#i hope they never stop doing these ensemble and swing features

[wassupmygays]

Hes gonna send anyone from the East Side a message

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Victor Carrillo Tracey as a Soc in the Outsiders

[spencersawkward]

*house call // wes (Dollface)*

ssummary: when her pet cat gives her a scare, Reader decides to call the vet to make sure everything is going to be okay. 

pairing: Fem!Reader x Wes

word count: 5.4k

content warnings: discussion of cannabis/cannabis consumption, unprotected penetrative sex, use of nicknames (baby, sweetheart), SoftDom!Wes, breeding kink, creampie. 

request: can you do a wes smutty one shot if you’re down?! 

A/N: to be fair, i haven’t watched Dollface in a minute, but i’m obsessed with the domestic vibes that Matthew gives off when he plays Wes and i just thought it would be super cute. anyway, this was super fun also i wanna fuck Wes. ok enjoy!

masterlist

the absolute best part of your day is when the package arrives at your doorstep. you impulse-purchased it about two weeks ago while you were hanging out with one of your close friends, and you've been looking forward to trying it every day since. 

or, really, for your cat to try it. 

you've read reviews and been extremely diligent to make sure the stuff is completely safe, and everything you've seen or read was singing the praises of this cat weed (which isn't actually cannabis at all, but catnip made to look like it).

as you take the cardboard box to the kitchen table and pry open the top with the help of a Swiss army knife, you're grinning. Klimt comes scampering into the room to see what all the fuss is about, sitting at your feet with his tail curled around his legs. 

"no peeking." you scold him gently. your kitten, the friendliest little rescue tabby around, simply stares blankly back. when you remove the wrapping from the glass jar and stare at it up close, you're impressed by how realistic it looks. the label shows cat-friendly ingredients only, but you unscrew the top and get a whiff of catnip. 

Klimt begins to weave in between your legs, nudging them affectionately and beginning to purr. you giggle and bend down to give him a few pets. his nose twitches; he tries to sniff at the foreign object, but you put it back on the table. 

"don't be greedy, babe." you scratch between his pointed ears and he lets out a whiny meow. 

it's about his dinner time, and you were hoping to give him his treat tonight after he finishes his dry food. so you make yourself something simple with the leftovers in your fridge and do some more work on your laptop while you two eat together. 

you've had Klimt for a while, now. you call him a kitten even though he's a full-grown cat-- he's just as playful and enthusiastic as any newborn. his eyes are the color of meadow grass, and his nose is scattered with tiny freckles. it makes him look like he's just come from digging around the backyard, but it really just adds to his charm. 

not to mention his ceaselessly social tendencies: Klimt is always around when your friends come over, worming his way in between you or sitting on one of the free chair cushions to listen. you wonder if he knows what you're saying sometimes, because when you talk about the embarrassing things you've done that day or the failed interactions you've had, he always lifts his head to give you something of a judgmental stare. 

once you've settled down for the evening and turned on the TV, you decide that now is the time. Klimt is aimlessly poking at a few of his toys. he bats at a fake mouse between his paws.

"kitten," you click your tongue and get up to grab the jar. "are you ready to try this stuff?" 

as if he's going to answer. he hears your footsteps coming back his way and watches patiently. it's only when you pour out a little bit in front of him that he gets curious about the stuff. you admire his movements as he bends down and examines. 

although you keep an eye on him while watching your show, you don't notice much of a change in him. he starts to roll about on the floor, which is to be expected, but it's only when he starts to chase around his fake mouse that things get interesting. 

you laugh as Klimt goes nuts, jumping back and attacking the thing like he's ready to come in for the kill. it's really funny, but you're interrupted by your phone buzzing. you told your friend that you were doing this tonight. 

"hi!" you answer the FaceTime call right away. 

"how is he?" you can hear the smile in Andi's voice as you turn the camera. 

"he's loving it." 

"oh my god," she laughs. Klimt arches his back, leaping so highly in the air, you raise your eyebrows. "I wonder how long it'll last." she muses. 

"I'm guessing we'll get about an hour more of this before he passes out for the next two days." you joke. he gets strong bursts of energy usually, but they only last so long until he's curled up on the window sill or in your bed. 

Andi and you talk for a while as Klimt tires himself out and plays with all of his favorite toys. you dangle a string in front of him for a decent amount of time, too, just to make him get up on his hindquarters. he's a natural entertainer, a lithe little thing who lets out a few irritated meows to demonstrate his impertinence. 

after about forty-five minutes, however, you notice your cat's behavior change. he keeps raising his hackles and rolling about, and something about it makes you nervous. he doesn't usually act like this, not even when he plays with the other catnip toys he's accumulated. 

"what's wrong?" Andi notes your furrowed brow as you look past the camera of your phone and at your pet. 

"he's just acting really weird," you pat the couch cushion to call him over, but he doesn't even glance up. "I don't know why." 

"maybe it's the cat weed." she suggests. you purse your lips and try to think. 

"yeah, but nobody in the reviews ever mentioned anything like this."

"I'm sure he's fine, Y/N."  

"yeah, I know..." but you're worried. Klimt is your pal, your cuddle buddy. as he rubs his cheek against the wooden floor, you feel guilt pool in your stomach. if he's hurt because of some dumb online purchase, you're never going to forgive yourself. "I'm gonna call the vet just to be sure."  

"oh, okay," she sounds surprised, but doesn't try to stop you. "let me know what they say." 

"I will." you hang up the phone and stare at your companion for a few seconds. he leaps into the air and does a somersault before letting out some deeply disturbing whine that reminds you to call the vet. better safe than sorry.  

...

when the doorbell rings, you're practically twiddling your thumbs anxiously. Klimt hasn't settled at all, and you haven't even bothered to change out of your lounging ensemble. you're pretty sure you look a mess, but hopefully the person won't care too much. 

you don't know who to expect-- your usual vet is an older woman who is friends with your mom, but her receptionist said she was out tonight and would send over another vet to check it out. 

when you swing open the door, you immediately regret the decision to stay in sweatpants. 

"hi, I'm Wes." the guy gives you a friendly smile and holds up his bag. it's almost comically old-fashioned, something out of an old movie, and you half-expect him to be wearing a stethoscope around his neck. 

he's gorgeous, though. definitely a good amount older than you, tall with brown curls and stubble. his features stand out to you even under the porch light, and your mouth guppies idiotically. 

"hi," you manage. his eyes flicker to your hand, which is seemingly blocking him from coming inside the house, and you jolt back a little to let him in. you clear your throat. "sorry." 

as he steps inside and you close the door behind him, getting one tiny moment to yourself, your eyes widen. way to make yourself look like a bumbling fool. 

"I heard that there's a tabby who got into some catnip?" you catch him looking around the front of your house, eyes catching on the framed photos before finding yours again. you can feel the heat creeping up your cheeks, but nod confidently.  

"yeah, Klimt. he should still be in the living room." 

"Klimt? like the artist?" he chuckles and follows you into the rest of the home. his voice has a nice timbre to it, something low and gentle that fits well with his occupation.  

"yeah, exactly." you turn to smile at him. 

you hear the cat before you see him. he's climbed to the top of his cat tree and leaps down onto the ground, paws hitting the surface in a way that can't have been comfortable. he chirps and looks up at Wes, whose lips are turned up with amusement.    

"are you the man of the hour?" he asks, approaching the cat. Klimt's pupils get enormous and he prepares to pounce on the newcomer. 

"careful--" you start to warn him, but the cat launches himself right into Wes' arms. the vet turns to you, holding him to his chest, and grins. warmth spreads over your skin with embarrassment. "sorry." 

"no need to apologize," he starts to pet Klimt, who is only slightly struggling to escape. he wants to go wild again, but Wes isn't going to let go. "they call me the Cat Wrangler at the office." 

"really?" you snort. he brings your pet over to the couch and sets him on the cushions, careful to keep him in place. 

"no way." he shoots you a dazzling smile. the joke makes you giggle, and you feel yourself become even more self-conscious about the outfit you're wearing. this is just your luck, having hot guys come over when you distinctly look your worst. 

Wes scratches between Klimt's ears and glances up at you again. "is there any reason in particular you're worried about the catnip?" 

"yeah, actually," you nod, brought back to reality. "I know it's supposed to make them more playful, but he's just been acting weird and I got worried that there was something in it that messed with his head." 

"can I see the container for it?" he asks. you go to grab the jar, only to remember that it proudly announces itself as cannabis for cats. profound embarrassment causes you to hesitate with the stuff in your hands. 

it's not like he's here for you to flirt with, but you're still thinking about how stupid and young you're going to look with this stuff in front of him, a hot older guy who seems to have his life under control. you peek at him once more from the kitchen, at the way he smiles and starts to talk softly to Klimt as if he were a peer. 

he's kinda crazy, and it makes you smile. 

"it's cat weed." you hand him the glass container, and Wes breaks into a grin as he looks at the front. 

"oh my gosh, I've heard about this!" his eyes move quickly over the label. you're in shock. 

"really?"

"yeah, it's hilarious. here, can you make sure our friend here doesn't move while I read the ingredients?" he gestures. the knot of anxiety within you loosens a bit. you nod obediently, going to scoop up your pet and sit him on your lap. he's still squirmy, but he doesn't look ready to attack either of you, thankfully. 

"hey, you." you greet your pal affectionately. his tail is wagging impatiently while Wes kneels on the ground beside the couch. there's a silver ring on his finger, but you notice with relief that it's not on his fourth one. 

when he sets the jar down on the coffee table with the kind of smile that hints at some secret amusement, you frown. "what?"

"nothing," he shakes his head. "Klimt is gonna be totally fine."

"are you sure?" you pet the feline's smooth coat. 

"definitely. you know how drugs affect people differently?" he asks. you want to say no, you don't know that because why would you, but then you remember that there is quite literally a glass-blown bowl sitting on your kitchen table. 

"sure." you reply honestly. 

"it's the same with cats: some just feel the effects a little more." he shrugs. you think this over for a second. 

"that makes sense." 

"yeah, I'd estimate about an hour more of this wildcat behavior before he takes a ten-hour nap." he cracks another joke and you find yourself totally charmed by him. something about the way he talks just makes your heart beat like crazy.  

"that's a relief." 

he chuckles and stands up, grabbing the bag (which he never even had to use) and starting to walk out of the living room. you can smell his delicious cologne as he moves past you.  

"sorry for making you come out here so late." you apologize from the couch. Wes turns to look at you with an easygoing expression. his free hand is tucked into his pocket.  

"no worries. you have a lovely home." he gestures to the kitchen, and then at the bowl sitting there in the open. you have to fight the smile on your face.  

"thanks." you're smirking. right before he's about to head back out, you ask a question that's been wriggling around in your mind since he arrived. "why no title?" 

"you mean, like, Doctor or something?" he stops in the threshold. one hand leans against it while he answers your question. you still can't get over how tall he is. 

"sure. I mean, you are a doctor, right?" it comes out more dubious than you intended, but he doesn't get offended, only smiles. 

"yes, I'm a doctor. I went to Davis." he points like the school is right outside your door. you nod.  

"cool." 

there's a silence where you just look at each other, and you forget that you look like you just rolled out of bed. he clears his throat. 

"to answer your question, I just go by Wes because you're not my patient-- Klimt is." he points to the kitten, who is now chasing his own tail like a dog. you snort at the sight. 

"how humble of you." 

"I know, right?" he's joking. you find yourself not wanting him to leave, even though you've really just met. he's so sweet and funny and handsome... your stomach is flipping over and over like a schoolgirl. 

and it's stupid that you can't think of one plausible reason for him to stay, but every step he takes shortens your time to think. so you just blurt, instead. 

"would you want a beer?" 

Wes pauses and looks at you, an unreadable expression on his face. "a beer?" 

"yeah, I mean... you came all the way out here and I just feel bad for causing a fuss over nothing." you scramble slightly to justify your words. you don't ever drink beer-- do you even have any? god, this is embarrassing.  

the vet checks the watch on his wrist, then smiles at you with a halting kind of enjoyment, before nodding. "sure." 

"okay, great." you turn on your heel to hide the grin on your face. he follows you again to the kitchen area and leans against the counter while you open the fridge. the best form of flirting you can manage right now is bending over shamelessly and taking your time to poke around. 

thankfully, there are three cold bottles left towards the back. you take out two and use the tool in one of your drawers to pop the tops off. he watches patiently, takes a sip when you hand the drink to him. your eyes meet. 

"so, what prompted the cat weed purchase?" he starts the conversation effortlessly, and you try to keep your eyes from wandering over the shape of him. now that he's just standing in front of you, you're noticing the way his sweater sits against his frame, his long legs and the way his head rests on an elegantly-proportioned neck. 

"I just saw it and thought it would be fun." you shrug honestly. he smiles.  

"do you think you're gonna let him try it again another time?"  

"I don't know," you cross your arms over your chest. "I'm a little nervous, but he also was having a lot of fun until I made him sit still." 

"fair enough." you both turn your gazes to the cat. he's nudging a little toy ball with his nose and watching it roll across the floor. there are tiny bells inside that jingle. Wes turns back to you. "what do you do?"

"graphic designer." 

"an artist." he raises his brows, impressed. 

"not exactly saving animal lives, but I get by." you take another sip of your drink. 

"it's not like that, mostly." he rolls his eyes playfully. 

"then what's it like?"

"I just see and talk to people's pets all day. it's a pretty great job, even when it's not. you know?" he's optimistic about it. you're drawn to his positive energy, to the way he smiles when he speaks like he's preparing to deliver a witty joke. 

 you're hopelessly attracted to him, and the space between you is becoming unbearable. even though he's a guy you just met, you can feel in your gut that something about this is just right. you want his body against yours. 

 "you okay?" he breaks what you only now realize is a silence, and you blink to clear the dirty images from your mind. 

"yeah." only thinking about you fucking me against a countertop. it must be the fact that you haven't gotten laid in a while or something, because you usually aren't this attracted to people within the first hour. it takes longer for you to even want to kiss them.  

"what kind of stuff do you design?" he seems genuinely interested as he shifts and continues to nurse his drink.  

"I work for a tech startup downtown, so it's a lot of website work to make sure it's navigable and pretty." you try to sum up your duties, but it's hard when his hazel eyes are so intent. he listens to every word.  

"do you do personal work, too? like, just for you?" 

"actually, yeah!" this sparks your excitement. 

"can I see?" his smile widens. "only if you're comfortable, of course."  

"sure." you're beaming.  

he stays put as you start to go out of the kitchen, but then you smile. "you can come with." 

"oh." he sets his beer down on the counter and follows you, slightly surprised. but you don't care; you were nervous before, but he's stayed for this long. maybe he wants you, too. 

once you get to your bedroom, you're grateful that it's been freshly cleaned. there's even a bouquet from the flower's market sitting on your dresser, and you head over to the desk to sift through the drawers for what you want. 

"cool room." he compliments from the threshold. he's careful not to make you uncomfortable, but also can't resist the curiosity that draws his gaze from wall to wall. you find the stack of papers and smile. 

"thanks," you place the folder in his hands. "these are some printed versions of stuff I did last year." 

Wes immediately begins to flip through the art. him seeing your stuff makes you nervous, so you pretend to focus on straightening up the few items that sit on your desk. you wipe your fingertip over a nonexistent film of dust. 

"these are amazing," he says, holding a card stock copy in between his index and middle fingers. "holy shit."

"thank you." you're trying to keep from smiling too hard. you can tell that he's being genuine with his compliments, and it makes your heart swell. 

"definitely. are you showing anywhere?" 

"at an exhibit downtown a couple months back, but I've been so busy with work that personal stuff hasn't really been on the table, you know?"

he nods in understanding and continues to go through until the end. when he's finished, he looks up and sees you, his eyes concentrated. he doesn't speak at first, and an undercurrent ripples across the room. there are about three feet between you, and you have no excuse to lessen it. 

he licks his lips slowly. you purse yours, unsure of what to say. 

"I'm glad you called tonight." his voice is lower, slightly uncertain, like he's testing the boundaries. except you don't want boundaries right now. you want to go wild on him. 

"me, too." you reply. it's in your eyes, that begging for him to do what you're scared to initiate. 

your tongue is pressed to the back of your teeth in anticipation. and when he sets the art back on your desk and comes closer, you feel yourself give in. bubbles of excitement travel up your body as he grabs your face and bends down to kiss you. 

it's full, passionate, not the kind of kiss you give someone you've just met. laced with desire and longing, you respond immediately. hands immediately run to his forearms, over his shoulders as he imposes beautifully on your form. it's so hard, you lean back slightly. your torso presses against his until he pushes you against the wall. 

the slight gasp that escapes your lips causes him to smile, followed by your moan and clutching fingers. the material of his sweater, the taste of him mingled with that sophisticated, gentle smell of cologne that you want printed all over your skin. 

"come here." he murmurs against your mouth and reaches down to the back of your thigh so you can hook your leg around his waist. you whine at the easy access he has to grind against your core, both of you desperate. 

"Wes." you pant into his open mouth. he sucks on your bottom lip before finding your cheek and jaw. his fingertips tighten around your flesh. 

"this feel good, sweetheart?" he checks in. coincidentally, his jeans grind against your panties at exactly the right spot and your hips jump. you release a pleasured yelp. 

"mhmm." 

"sounds like it." he latches onto your throat with a possessive excitement. you can feel him sucking and biting at the skin until you're positive there'll be marks tomorrow. you hope there are; purpled evidence of his touch. he digs his nails into your thighs. "you like it when older men touch you, baby?" 

he blows over your tender throat before attacking it again. you sigh contentedly at the way he mingles sensations for your pleasure. "yes." 

he grunts and nips at your collarbone, sliding the strap of your top down your shoulder so that he can effortlessly flutter his lips over the skin. you grip at him and toss your head back against the wall. his weight on yours is divine. it makes you weak, but that doesn't matter. he's practically holding you up at this point. 

when his hand pushes under the hem of your shirt and dances over your stomach, you arch your back for more. he's gentle yet firm, pulling you close like he wants to breathe your oxygen. he's tracing over your ribcage, all the way up to the valley of your breasts, before cupping one and moaning into your shoulder. 

he kisses you again with an aching hunger that can't be satiated. your tongues meet and Wes finds your hardened nipples beneath the thin fabric of your bralette. you sigh while he starts to circle one with his thumb.  

"you're perfect." he breathes. 

you want to bask in this moment, to enjoy the shock across your skin when he reaches his hand back down between your bodies to dip below the waistband of your sweatpants, but you're just so greedy. he could make you cum over and over and it would never be enough. 

"what do you want me to do to you?" Wes is hovering over your lower stomach, dangerously close to where you need him most. he's teasing. the warmth of his skin drives you mad. his breath brushes over the shell of your ear. 

"fuck me." it's the only response you can fathom. every other instinct in your body flies out the window and is replaced by a craving to sink your proverbial (and literal) teeth into him.

but he loves it, apparently, because he pushes you back against the wall with a nearly bruising force. "I can do that." 

with those words, he quickly grabs your other leg and lifts you into his arms, bringing you to the bed and laying you delicately on the mattress while you giggle. you stare up at him with an almost daydreamy lust. his cheeks are flushed. 

you only get a second of that heavenly sight, though, before he dips down and pushes your shirt up to see your tits and kiss up the chasm between your ribs. his stubble tickles your skin, which causes you to smile. 

by the time he's pulled your sweatpants off and tossed them to the side, you're whining for him to strip down as well. 

"what is it, pretty girl?" he murmurs against your tummy. when you try to squeeze your thighs, he pushes them apart. 

"I wanna see you." your fingertips touch at his sweater. he chuckles and pulls the garment over his head. it messes up his perfect hair even more and you love it, tangling your fingers in it. he bites his lip. 

"do you want me to taste you first?" he keeps stroking the inside of your thighs and staring down at the skimpy lace that you're positive that you've already soaked. you're making him crazy with the way you roll your hips against air, against nothing, seeking any kind of stimulation. 

"I can't wait." you shake your head. as nice as it would be, you're going to implode if he doesn't fill you up soon. he drags his fingers down your clothed slit and groans when he feels just how ready you are for him. 

"let's take these off then, okay, sweetheart?" he hooks his fingers in the panties and waits for you to nod before tugging them down your legs. you whimper at the cool air that hits your core, soaked and needy. Wes stares at your body on display for him. 

as he gets back up from the floor to kiss you again, you both work to remove the rest of his clothes. his skin is perfect under your hands. his chest is warm, solid, and when he climbs on top of you, his arms rest on either side of your head.

one hand comes down to grab his own cock and stroke it a few times before lowering himself to rub it against your throbbing clit. you whimper at the pressure; he's mindless when he feels how easily you cover him in your essence. 

"so fucking wet..." he groans while rutting against you. 

"Wes, please--" your breath hitches. "put it in." 

"begging?" he teases your entrance with the head and smirks. "good girl." 

"mhmm." you're smiling, but your mouth drops open when he pushes himself inside. 

it's a heavy feeling, him filling you up. he's thick and the stretching of your walls makes him groan and rest his head on your shoulder. he kisses the skin there while diving deeper into your body. 

you're shaking slightly from the mixture of pain and pleasure, his size forcing your body to work quickly to accommodate. your eyes are squeezed shut, but you run your hands over his back and shoulders to stay grounded. it feels like a dream. 

he starts to pull out, coated in your wetness while you whimper below him, and he grabs your face with one hand in a dominant, soft gesture. "okay?"

"yeah." 

he pushes back in. the air in your lungs is practically gone at this point, he's so deep inside. your eyes roll back and push your hips up to take him at a new angle. Wes finds his pace easily, rocking into your body at a manageable pace to let you get used to the sensation. 

every time his hips roll down and he buries himself in you, he presses on your clit and sends a new shock through your body. he leans on his elbows to get closer and feel every undulation of your body. you love how his thrusts force your legs apart, how he moans your name and causes the headboard to repeatedly hit the wall while maintaining eye contact. hazel irises that rake over your features with lust. 

"you feel so good." he speeds up a little when he hits a certain spot. you can feel him deep and hard, causing a small bump to rise in your stomach with each stroke. his voice is husky and dark. like a man starved. 

"fuck..." you drag your nails down his back. he groans at the red marks that you will no doubt leave for him. 

"clingy thing, huh?" he sucks at your throat affectionately. "I come over for one thing and you can't help yourself." 

hearing Wes speak through his own panting is like listening to a secret, and you never want it to stop. he's reveling in the sordid crush of his own wants, and the way he shoves into you shows you that he has no intention of slowing down for a while. 

"I'm impatient." you smirk. he pulls away to admire your expression. 

"so am I." he kisses your lips and starts to pound into you. the juxtaposition of his tenderness and the sharp snap of his hips to yours fills you with butterflies. you love how much he wants to ruin you. 

"Wes-- oh my god!" you whimper. he grabs your hips and yanks them closer to him so he can go as deep as possible, so he can hit your cervix. 

"that's right, sweetheart," he pants. you can tell that he's starting to lose control. "say my name. I want everyone to know what a good little slut you are for me." 

the commanding tone makes your body shake. "I- I'm cumming, Wes, please--"

"please what, baby?" he taunts. his index finger is tracing over your jaw. 

you don't know what it is that you're wanting, except more. as your form shudders and tightens, walls fluttering around his cock, you lose the capacity to speak. you grind your hips against him and cry out pathetically while he pushes you back down and slams ruthlessly into your pussy. 

"cum inside-- please, I need it--" you writhe. he groans at the request. 

"fuck, yes..." he sheathes himself. "take it."

you gasp as he repeatedly hits your weakest point and spills hot ropes of his cum inside you, still thrusting in and out and whimpering into your shoulder at the clenching sensation you give his cock. it's warm, strangely delightful, nearly sending you into another orgasm sheerly from the sight. 

he mutters unintelligibly as he empties himself in your pussy, but you catch a growled "so needy," between deep moans. you're clinging to him like you'll never have it again. you might not. 

he slows down, giving shallower thrusts while riding out his high and shoving his cum deeper inside. it turns lazy and messy, both of you panting, before he finally pulls out and rolls over next to you. 

you press the back of your hand to your forehead. it's sweaty from all the work he just put you through, but you feel amazing at the same time. your eyes keep flickering from the ceiling above to his rising and falling chest beside you. his nose twitches; he turns his head to look at your face. 

although you expect him to say something, he doesn't. instead, you just stare at each other. the air conditioner rattles gently in the background. you're not sure how long this lasts, this soaking in, but he's the first to break it. 

"hey." 

you find the corners of your lips turning up. "hi." 

"do you mind if I go get something to clean you up?" he asks softly, his fingertips finding your forearm with ease and drifting over it.

"sure. bathroom is the first door on the left." 

he gets up and you watch him gather his clothes, eyes glued to his perfect form. you can't believe you just had sex with your veterinarian. you don't regret it at all. 

he wanders out of the room and your eyes follow, only to see Klimt sitting patiently by the door. 

"what are you doing, perv?" you tease as he comes over and leaps up onto the bed. his kitten paws pad over the blankets and settle into the crook of your arm. you smile to yourself, recalling how sweet the vet was with him. "hey, Wes?" you call out. 

"yeah?" he comes back into the room with a warm washcloth and a small smile on his face. 

"would you wanna get coffee or something sometime?" you bite your lip. maybe he doesn't want to go on a date, but it's worth a shot.

"sure." he breaks into a grin that makes you giddy. thank god, because you really were hoping to see him again. 

you can't wait.  

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[i-know-my-value-darling]

Supernatural stars reflect on the show's undying legacy

Jared Padalecki, Jensen Ackles, and Misha Collins discuss 15 years of fantasy, family, and flannel. 

"We only get one shot at this." Sam and Dean Winchester are surrounded. The monster-hunting brothers are standing on the edge of a cliff. They look to Castiel, their brother in arms — or is it wings? — but even he can’t help. One move in the wrong direction could ruin everything. After years of fighting demons, going toe-to- toe with Satan himself, and saving the world multiple times, they once again find themselves in a position of having to perform under pressure. But this situation is unlike anything they’ve ever dealt with before. All eyes are on them as they have one shot…at getting the perfect picture.

It’s a dry, hot August day in Malibu — when people were still allowed to gather outside — as Supernatural stars Jensen Ackles, Jared Padalecki, and Misha Collins prepare for the last setup of their final Entertainment Weekly cover shoot. With a bottle of champagne in each of their hands, Ackles once again reminds them they get “one shot” to do this right. But if their characters can shoulder the weight of the world, surely these three can handle a photo. Read the whole story below

The champagne soaking is meant to be a celebration of 15 years, of making television history. Supernatural, the story of two brothers destined to save the world, is the longest-running genre show in the history of American broadcast television. (So old, the first three seasons shot on this thing called film.) What started as an underdog story, living its first few years on the verge of cancellation, has become an institution, a milestone to which other shows aspire. Supernatural not only survived the move from The WB to The CW after its first season — it’s now the final WB show left standing — but became the backbone of the now highly successful CW network. Over the years, the sci-fi series has aired on every weeknight, helping to launch shows including Arrow and The Vampire Diaries. The network moved it one final time, most recently, to Mondays, to help Roswell, New Mexico expand its audience. “Supernatural is a major link to many of the shows that we have successfully built to market,” The CW’s chairman and CEO Mark Pedowitz says. “Almost every one of our shows has had it as a lead-out or a lead-in.”

And to think, it all started as a promise to bring horror to television. After Supernatural creator Eric Kripke had finished working with Warner Bros. on 2003’s Tarzan series, he pitched the idea of a reporter who travels around hunting urban legends. As he puts it, it was a Kolchak: The Night Stalker rip-off. But when he realized the story would benefit from having brothers at its core, he started writing. “At the time, The Ring and The Grudge were huge hits in theaters,” Kripke remembers. “We said, ‘We’re going to take that experience and we’re going to put it on TV,’ and the initial goal was to be scary.” After Warner Bros. passed on his first, what he calls “uptight,” draft, Kripke had to reassess the kind of show he was creating. “I canceled all my Christmas plans and wrote that second draft in three weeks,” he says. “That was when the show got its sense of humor, because I was locked alone, over winter break, in my office. I couldn’t do anything fun, so I started entertaining myself.”

The show was still scary, but it was also funny and, over the years, would continue to evolve. Sure, you could say it’s a little bit X-Files — in its early days, the show often used the line “The X-Files meets Route 66” — and there were definite Star Wars influences (Sam and Dean were originally based on Luke Skywalker and Han Solo). But no combination of pop culture is going to perfectly describe Supernatural because the show has managed to do something remarkably rare in the age of peak TV, where audiences are so overwhelmed with content that an original idea seems foreign: It’s created a truly one-of- a-kind experience.

For starters, it’s a show about two flannel-wearing, beer-loving, blue-collar dudes from Kansas who for a good chunk of their lives traveled from cheap motel to cheap motel, paying for gas and greasy diner food with a mix of fake credit cards and money they earned scamming people at the pool table. “Almost all television is about rich people or, at the very least, middle-class people,” co-showrunner Andrew Dabb says. “The fact that we’ve been able to take this Midwestern blue-collar approach to this genre feels like we’re breaking the mold.”

But the mold-breaking didn’t stop there. Supernatural might’ve started out as a horror show with some snarky one-liners, but it evolved into some of the boldest, most experimental (and certainly strangest) stories on the small screen. “We’re a show of big swings,” co-showrunner Robert Singer says. “I used to say, with every idea, ‘This will be a home run or they’ll cancel us,’ but every year we wanted to do something really nuts." And when he says nuts, we’re not just talking about the episode with the talking teddy bear or the murderer targeting imaginary friends. Those are just some standard monsters of the week. We’re talking about the black-and-white episode shot like a classic Hollywood monster movie, or the episode that introduced Chuck (Rob Benedict), a prophet — who’d later reveal himself to be God — who was famous for writing a book series called Supernatural. That, of course, led to Sam and Dean attending a Supernatural fan convention as the show continued to redefine what it meant to inject a series with meta humor. And the swings never stopped. Season 13 featured a Scooby-Doo crossover as an animated Sam, Dean, and Castiel solved a case alongside the Mystery Inc. gang. And in season 14, after giving God a sister a few years prior, the show made the Big Man Himself its final villain. “I don’t think any idea, barring some production concerns, has been viewed as too crazy,” Dabb says. “Because we know that our fans are smart and that they’ll follow these guys anywhere.”

So long as each episode features Sam and Dean — and the occasional heartfelt talk on the hood of the Impala — the show can do just about anything, which is another reason Kripke had to rewrite his first draft of the pilot. Originally, Dean was the only brother who knew about monsters growing up, bringing Sam up to speed later in life. It wasn’t until Kripke figured out that they needed to be in this together that the series snapped into place. Because at the end of it all, they’re two brothers bonded by the loss of their mother and a life spent on the road with an absentee father. (It just so happens that their mother was killed by a demon and their father hunted them.) The familial dynamic — the irrational codependency, as the angel Zachariah (Kurt Fuller) once called it — is the most important part of the show. “The first inkling I had that we had something special was shooting the pilot,” Kripke says. “It was the scene on the bridge when Sam and Dean talk about their mother. It was the first time that you really saw their chemistry and their connection as brothers on full display. Because I’ve always said this show begins and ends with whether you believe that sibling relationship.” But Sam and Dean weren’t just the center of the show. For many years, they were the show.

Supernatural has never been an ensemble drama. For the first 82 hours of the series, Ackles and Padalecki were the only long-running series regulars — Katie Cassidy and Lauren Cohan briefly joined for season 3, appearing in 12 episodes combined. But Sam and Dean weren’t just in every episode; they anchored every episode. (They skipped table reads because there would’ve been only two actors there.) “I had many moments of not only questioning, ‘Can I keep this up?’ but an answer of ‘I cannot keep this up,’ ” Padalecki, 37, who’s been vocal about his struggle in the early seasons, says. “I borrowed strength from Jensen.” But even Ackles, 42, admits it was a tough job. “The 23-episode seasons were nine and a half months of filming,” he adds. “It was a lot of work, but I always came back to: I still enjoy it, I still like telling the story, I still like these characters and the people I work with.”

Not only did the guys stick around, they built a reputation of having created one of the warmest sets in the business, with a number of crew members staying with the production all 15 seasons. It all dates back to a talk Kripke had with his stars during the filming of the series’ second episode. “I said, ‘The show is about your two characters, and with that comes this responsibility,’ ” Kripke says. Padalecki remembers the exact setting of what he calls their “Good Will Hunting moment,” a bench in Stanley Park in Vancouver, where they film. It was a chat both actors took to heart. “We’d both been on other sets,” Ackles says. “We knew we wanted to enjoy it, to have fun with our crew; we wanted them to like us and us to like them and to have fun doing what we do.” It’s an attitude Pedowitz hopes bleeds into other CW shows, an attitude that launched an annual tradition where the CW chairman/CEO takes his new casts out to dinner with the Supernatural guys, a chance for the vets to share advice. “It’s always the most flattering situation,” Padalecki says, recalling a moment he had a few years back with the late Luke Perry, who was a part of the Riverdale cast. “Luke was sitting next to me and he was like, ‘What y’all have done and what we hear about you guys, it’s really cool to be associated with y’all in some way, shape, or form,’” he recalls. “And I’m sitting there pinching myself.”

It’s a behind-the-scenes legacy that’s perhaps just as impressive, if not more so, than the onscreen legacy. Collins, 45, who started as a guest star and the show’s first angel in season 4, has become the show’s third-longest-running series regular, and he still remembers walking onto set his first day. “When you’re coming onto a show as a guest star, it can be a little bit nerve-racking,” Collins says. “Coming to this set, it was an immediately different vibe. Think- ing about working on other shows in the future, that’s something that I aspire to bring with me.”

A similar reputation extends to the fans as well. Not only is the #SPNFamily one of the most dedicated fandoms out there, it’s also known to be a pretty nice one. (Not many fandoms can say they’ve helped launch a crisis support network for their fellow fans.) But their dedication isn’t just about seeing what crazy twist God throws at Team Free Will next. Thanks to fan conventions and social media, the viewers are just as invested in the lives of the actors. Supernatural’s not just about the words on the page, it’s about the actors saying them. “When you’re dealing with the public taste, there’s an alchemy of great writing, a great idea, and the close-up that’s required,” Peter Roth, chairman of Warner Bros. Television Group, says. “You need stars who you want in your living room.” And you need stars who want to be in your living room, and who, even after 15 years, care so deeply that they get emotional while taking photos in Malibu.

"It's going to be a long eight months," Ackles declares. Standing on that same ledge, an hour before the champagne shot, Ackles, Padalecki, and Collins walk away from a group hug after unexpectedly starting to tear up. It might be the setting — looking out over the ocean — or the occasion: their last-ever photo shoot. Or maybe it’s the fact that they’re almost a month into filming their final season.

It had been a question posed to the stars for years: How long will this show continue? How long can it continue? “Even my mom and dad were like, ‘When are you going to be done with this?’” Ackles says with a laugh. It was a decision the network and studio had ultimately put into the actors’ hands, and it was a conversation they’d been having for a while. Back in 2016, Padalecki told EW, “If we don’t make it to [episode] 300, I think Ackles and I will both be truly bummed.” But in season 14, they hit 300…and then kept going. While filming episode 307, they announced the upcoming 15th season would be the end, which will bring them to a total of 327 episodes when all is said and done. “[Jared] and I were always married to the fact that we never wanted to go out with a diet version of what we had,” Ackles says. “We wanted to have enough gas left in the tank to get us racing across the finish line. We didn’t want to limp across.” Padalecki remembers the moment it hit him — not the decision to end it, but rather the opposite. “We had that moment where he and I both realized that we didn’t want it to end,” he says. “It finally got to a point, ironically, where it was like, ‘I never want to leave this. I could do this until the day I die, and then if I get the choice when I’m dead, I’ll re-up!’ But you never want to be the last person at a party. We just knew. That’s not to say there haven’t been vacillations, but we all trust the decision that was made.”

Starting in July 2019, the cast and crew returned to Vancouver to begin filming the final season, but in March 2020, with two episodes left to go, they were sent home. For years, fans had wondered what, if anything, could stop the Winchesters, and now it seems we have the answer: a global pandemic. As sets closed amid social-distancing measures due to the spread of COVID-19, it didn’t take long for fans to start connecting the dots, sharing relevant GIFs from episodes that featured viruses, most notably Chuck telling Dean to hoard toilet paper “like it’s made of gold” before the end of the world in season 5’s “The End.” (Did we mention that Supernatural is also kind of psychic? In a season 6 episode, Dean calls Sam “Walker, Texas Ranger,” which just so happens to be the role Padalecki has lined up after this ends.)

When production paused, it all felt a little like we were living in an episode of the show, just waiting for Sam and Dean to drive up in Baby, open those creaky doors, and save us. They might not be able to do quite that, but the thing with the Winchesters is that they never stay down for long. When Supernatural is able to safely resume production, it will. And though there are only two episodes left to film, fans will enjoy a total of seven unseen hours, including the return of Charlie (Felicia Day) and a mystery woman who visits the bunker and, for some reason, gives Sam and Dean all the holidays they never got to celebrate. “She makes Christmas for them and Thanksgiving, birthday parties, and all that. It’s a very good episode,” Singer says, adding, “I don’t know when it’s going to air.”

That’s the thing—no one knows, not even the guys who took out Yellow Eyes, stopped Leviathans, defeated Death himself, and are supposedly destined to be the messengers of God’s destruction. But Sam and Dean do know the value of a good plan B. “Obviously it’s a horribly unfortunate situation we’re in, but the silver lining is that it gives us an opportunity to recharge,” Ackles says. “We had just finished episode 18, we shot one day of episode 19, and I was reading these two monster scripts thinking, ‘It’s like we’re at the end of a marathon and they want us to sprint for the last two miles.’ I feel like this almost gives us an opportunity to refocus and go into the last two episodes and hit them with everything we got.” Because when they do return to set, shave their quarantine beards, and step back into Sam and Dean’s shoes for the last time, they’ll have one shot at ending this thing…and they’re determined not to miss. 

Photos: Peggy Sirota for EW 

https://ew.com/tv/supernatural-stars-cover-ew-to-reflect-on-the-shows-undying-legacy/

[hannie-dul-set]

your face lit up upon seeing the message on your phone. despite your objections, jaehyun had insisted on picking you up and taking you home today (you had told him that if he were to drop you off after your date later, it'd take him almost an hour to get back home. to which he responded with "it's okay as long as i'd get to spend more time with you" which resulted in you nearly dropping your phone). after giving yourself one last check-up in front the mirror, you had finally opted to go downstairs.

now, seeing jaehyun in the usual suit and tie ensemble was undeniably heart-stopping, but seeing him in a plain black shirt and jeans? now that was something else. you had told him the night prior to wear something casual, and that was probably the best decision you've ever made thus far.

he was leaning on his car, a coat loosely hanging off of his shoulder and attention drilled on his phone. noticing your nearing presence, he quickly shut off the device, eyes gleaming and dimples appearing.

"you're here."

it was around four in the afternoon, the sky rendering a beautiful brilliant blue. patches of little white clouds littered the heaven's canvas, and the sun's glare showered directly on jaehyun's face.

"indeed i am," you laughed, finding your spot directly in front of him. jaehyun's gaze lingered on you a little longer, a light wash of pink painting his pale cheeks. you raised a brow, expecting him to say something but he only stifled out a cough, quickly scrambling to open the front door of his car for you.

"after you," he stuttered out, attempting to keep his composure. jaehyun was nervous— not because of you, but instead it's because the whole concept of going out for mere pleasure had been foreign to him since he was sixteen. you'd actually been a source of comfort for him; even if he embarks on the unkown, it would seem like nothing with your presence alone.

you thanked him before entering, and shortly thereafter he followed.

"so, where exactly are you taking us, miss y/n?" jaehyun asked you but his attention remained on the road before him.

"you'll see when we get there, jae— oh, you should go left from here," and so he did. the next couple of minutes went on like that— you giving him directions, and him attacking you with questions regarding your destination (you refused to answer any of them, of course). after a while, a large ferris wheel can into view as well as vague sounds of boisterous merrymaking.

"jaehyun, we're almost there!" you gushed in delight, slightly bouncing in your seat as you gleamed at the distant sight before you and jaehyun couldn't help but smile at your honeyed excitement.

the car had landed in the the parking lot, prompting you to go out. but before you could open the car door, jaehyun swiftly left his seat, jogged over to your side, and opened the door for you. he extended his hand for you to grab and you couldn't contain your laughter.

"such a gentleman," with a painted smile on your face, you placed your hand on his as you exited the vehicle.

you looked up to jaehyun to see if he was just as eager as you to try all of the rides and games, but his expression remained unreadable. a question came into thought, so you tugged on the short sleeve of his shirt, prompting the male's attention.

the wide grin on you refused to falter even as you neared the park's entrance. there was a spring in your step as you walked and your enthusiasm only grew once you saw the endless colorful booths and stalls lining up from the entrance.

"jae, have you ever been to an amusement park before?"

"a few times, yes," he answered, a somber feeling tracing his features. "but it was a quite long time ago so i don't really remember what it's like."

a frown appeared surfaced after hearing his response. being bred into a family that garnered such a reputation undeniably brought about an immense amount of pressure, so you weren't surprised that jaehyun gave up his childhood so early in order to live up to expectations of dozens and dozens of nameless people. you'd made the right decision of bringing him to the amusement park today— maybe through this he'd be able to relive what he had long forgotten.

"well then," you quickly stood before him, blocking his path to move forward. with your new found determination, you quickly grabbed his hand, eliciting a look of confusion from the tall male. "i'll help you remember."

with a swift tug of his wrist, you ran, jaehyun dragging behind you. "miss y/n, slow down—"

"keep up, jaehyun! or else i might leave you in the dust!" you sang, a wide smile spread on your lips. at first, jaehyun was caught in a daze, but with a quick shake of his head and chimes laughter leaving his lips, he suddenly overtook took your speed.

"keep up, miss y/n."

he teased, your positions switching in a blink of an eye. jaehyun's hair flew with the wind— you couldn't see his face, but you just know that he was beaming, and that alone made you swell with joy.

the afternoon went by rather quickly. after running around the park for a while, you two decided to try out the games first— and dear god, you were met with an entirely new side of jung jaehyun.

"miss y/n, do you mind stepping away for a while?"

"oh, sure," quickly, you scurried away from him, finding a spot a few steps away from the jaehyun.

in front of you two was a punch machine, glaring at you with its red and yellow lights. you had just left from the one of the shooting games where you both failed miserably, causing jaehyun to be a bit dejected. you had told him that it was most likely rigged, but the male swore that he'd regain his dignity. when you glanced up at him to see how he's holding up, and you couldn't help your amusement— jaehyun's brows were in a furrow, face in frozen ice. the fact that he was taking this so seriously was absolutely adorable.

a small crowd of children had formed around you, and you could see that the worker in charge of the game was getting impatient (jaehyun started stretching a bit, and you could tell that the guy was this close to kicking you out).

with a few swift steps and the swing of an arm—

bam.

952.

the small crowd started clapping, and the first thing jaehyun did was look at you— face glowing with a smile that looked as if he had just won the whole world. the way his cheeks lifted and eyes disappeared strung a different kind of chord inside of you. springing from the ground, you leaped towards him, arms spread to capture him in an embrace.

"jaehyun, holy shit, that's a new record!" you squealed, rupturing a wave of confusion from jaehyun. his right arm ended up wrapping around your waist and his opposite palm was resting on your head which was buried in his chest. like earlier, his bewilderment quickly washed away and his voice broke out a chuckle. you looked up, only to see him staring at you with stars in his eyes.

"i told you i'd make up for my loss."

"you didn't have to, but i'm proud of you anyways."

after trying out most of the games and rides (as well as a second run at the viking, due to jaehyun's insistence), the light sky was replaced with the star-studded breath of the night. the lights hanging all over the park were shining— casting dozens of colors all over. the two had just gotten down from your ride from the ferris wheel. although the ride was spent primarily in silence while admiring the atmosphere and scenery before you, it wasn't at all awkward. instead, there was comfort lingering in the air inside the tiny box you two were enclosed in.

shortly thereafter you found yourselves eating dinner at the nearby boardwalk with the sight of the light-stained waters in front of you, and before you knew it the night was finally over. at 9:32 pm, you were already on yout ride back home— the card ride composing of you blaring one of jaehyun's playlists at full volume and singing your hearts out (at that instance, you had found out that jaehyun's voice was nothing less than heavenly and you had complained as to why he'd never told you before). moments later, the facade of your apartment building came into view, signalling the end of your date.

with the same routine as earlier, he had opened the door for you, hands pressed tightly together and showing no signs of letting go.

"i had fun today," you breathed out. the thoughtless grins on your faces mirrored each other, along with the enraptured adoration spiraling in your eyes. "so did you, i hope. if not, then i'd be really sad."

the streetlights and the stars were the only things lighting up the area, but everything suddenly became brighter when you heard the soft laughter slipping from jaehyun's pink tinted lips. "you being sad would be the last thing i'd want, miss y/n."

the cold wind nipped at your skin, causing you to hold onto jaehyun's hand tighter. as much as you didn't want to, you had to head back inside. it was already getting late and you still had work tomorrow morning.

"i should get going, jae," you spoke, earning a nod of understanding from the male. hesitantly, he slipped his hand off of yours, a glimpse of disappointment hinting at his features before being replaced once more with his dimpled smile.

"i'll wait until you get inside before i make my leave."

"alright, alright," you laughed, a gentle rose flushing you cheeks. "text me when you get home, okay?"

jaehyun nodded once more and you finally decided to head inside. once at the entrance, however, you turned your heels to see if he was still there, and indeed he was— standing alone under the coldness of the night, just because he wants to see you safely get inside. you see his expression— confused as to why you weren't opening the door yet, and suddenly you felt your heart jump in a giddy flight. your eyes met and you briskly scurried to unlock the door, lightly smacking on of your cheeks in attempts to calm the blazing red storm going about. you swung it open, but before you finally entered, a sudden thought went inside your head.

lips pressed together, you hesitated, but then ultimately decided

fuck it.

you swiveled around to face jaehyun again and you wordlessly speeded towards him, legs moving in a haste, the air gusting against you. he was flustered with you suddenly standing before him, and it didn't help his case when you looked up to him with your face flushed. without giving jaehyun any opportunity to speak, you sprung on your toes, quickly pressing a fluttering kiss on his jaw.

"goodnight, jaehyun!"

and just like that you ran inside, leaving jaehyun in a coral stained daze. he heard the door to your apartment building closing, and he snapped out. he shook his head, laughing to himself, before getting inside his car.

"goodnight."

gold painted canvas

the classic rich boy and poor girl love story but with less prejudice and more happiness

25 // goodnight

a/n: HHEHEHEH hope you enjoyed 1.9k words of tooth rotting fluff <33 pls lmk what you think hehehe

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[joontier]

Patawad, paalam. | drabble

translation: forgive me, goodbye. 

pairings: jungkook x reader

rating: NC-17

genre: romance, angst | warnings: wholesomeness basically (one-liner implied smut),,,,,, until you get to the last line gklasjdfa bUT DONT SKIP 

word count: 1.3k

g/n: AHHHHH! my first release for The Paraluman Project!! might as well rename this angsty august (can i get an amen @mintseesaw​ this was meant to be posted in a few hours bUT IM IMPATIENT LIKE THAT kdsjfasfasf) anywho,, ‘Patawad, paalam’  is meant to be a prologue and an epilogue at the same time and if you guys want to have a lidol backstory well lmk okiiii,,,, yall know im ready to spoil my darlings EEEEP feedback is always appreciated!! ILY YALL

navi. | m.list

Today’s the big day. 

The church had been decorated just like the way you’ve always pictured it to be - your idea of the perfect wedding finally a reality. Just as what had been planned years ago by both of you, you have decided on celebrating this once-in-a-lifetime event in your chapel - the very place where you two first met. 

Four-feet tall pedestals crowned with bouquets of white hydrangeas stand tall and proud along the length of the aisle, while the sunlight passing through the stations of the cross depictions on the stained glass provided an extra burst of color on the snowy flowers. 

Jungkook has never been good with crowds, especially not when the audience included their relatives and some of their closest family friends. Yeonwoo, Jungkook’s best friend of many years, takes notice of the man’s palpable uneasiness, and approaches the nervous man. “You’ll do just fine, Kook. I believe in you.” After a pat on the back, Jungkook smiles at his best friend, grateful for the much-needed reinforcement. 

There’s a quiet chatter amongst the guests, remaining seated on the wooden pews as they wait for the processional. The benches have been newly varnished just for the occasion. While a number of the invited guests speak to each other to pass the time, the rest take photos of the immaculate venue as they praise the decorations. Perhaps he could mention your unparalleled efforts in his speech later at the reception. 

Pride swells in Jungkook’s chest as he remembers how much time and effort you had spent perfecting each detail of the church’s decorations, investing at least three whole days of planning for the interior alone. 

Jungkook stands by the altar patiently, big brown eyes scanning the crowd and silently thanking each one of them for having allocated a day from their busy lives just to witness one of the most important days of his life. The man continues to struggle with the event’s actuality, his stubborn nerves gnawing at him deliriously. In fact, he doesn’t think he’d been able to cope with reality for the past few days. 

He recalls having dreamt about you last night, unable to sleep a wink after seeing a vivid image of you in a white dress during his slumber. The restless man takes a stroll in the seminary’s garden in the hopes that the tranquility afforded by the grounds will bring him enough peace and quiet to lull him back to sleep. 

As he entered a secluded area only a few people knew of (you included), he found you on the swing, swaying yourself gently on the seat. He wanted to go back to his room, under the quite ridiculous belief that it was bad luck to see the bride just before the wedding ceremony. He watches you for a while, hiding behind a moss-covered wall. As he studies your features, he senses you’re just as restless as he was and shortly after, he finds himself walking towards you, unproven hearsay the last thing on his mind. You converse for a good two hours until you deemed it time to go back to your rooms and get some sleep. You both had a long day ahead of you and rest was important. With a final hug, you part ways once more. 

The musical ensemble brings Jungkook out of his reverie, the sudden sound of the violin playing making him jerk slightly in surprise. The soloist starts strumming the strings of her guitar to a familiar tune, giving the song more depth and emotion with the melodic sound resonating throughout the chapel. The crowd’s chatter immediately falls to a hush, the audience faces the entrance to watch the highly-anticipated processional. 

Wise men say, only fools rush in 

But I can’t help, falling in love with you

Your niece enters first, passionately throwing white petals from a large disproportionate wooden basket. Her tiny feet carry her throughout the length of the aisle, sending a half-toothless smile left and right. 

Her older brother trails after her a couple of meters away, his usually unruly hair now handsomely tamed with gel for this special occasion. The audience coos at the siblings, finding the duo most endearing. There’s muted laughter amongst the crowd as his small hands tremble, the ring pillow shaking lightly in his grasp. As they reach the altar, your brother, the best man, gives the siblings a high five before guiding them back to their pews. 

Like a river flows, slowly to the sea, 

Darling, so it goes, 

Some things are meant to be

The bridesmaids file in with bright smiles from the side, each carrying a mellow arrangement of baby breaths and lavenders. Your closest cousin, Cassie, who you chose to be the maid of honor has flown all the way from Canada just to witness your wedding. She walks the carpeted aisle slowly, dabbing at her cheeks with the back of her hand as she clutches onto a bouquet with the other. 

Next in line are Jungkook’s parents, who are both holding on to each other for support. When Jungkook’s and his mother’s eyes meet for the first time today, unspoken words are shared between the mother and son, small smiles gracing their lips in acknowledgement. Your parents follow after them with your father’s cheeks already red and wet with tears. 

As the entire entourage get to their seats at the front, the music stops. All bodies turn to face the entrance. The majestic wooden doors finally open with an audible creek, and the whole chapel falls quiet. 

Take my hand, 

Take my whole life too, 

For I can’t help falling in love with you

Jungkook’s eyes, previously scanning the crowd, finally fixate on you. God, you were so beautiful. He reprimands himself for using the Lord’s name in vain, but at the same time, there was no one else to speak to, or thank but the Lord Himself: for his life, for his family, for this day, and most especially, for you. 

You looked magnificent. Regal, even. 

He wasn’t familiar with how dresses were described in detail, all he knows is that the exact moment he saw you today, time just froze, as if the whole world paused in its entirety. You were the girl in his dreams. You were the girl of his dreams. 

A tiara adorned with crystals and pearls rests prettily on your head, the crown anchoring a sheer, long lace veil that flowed beautifully along the length of your gown at the back. The bodice of your dress accentuated your curves wonderfully and the endless number of baroque patterns sewn onto the fabric of your dress added up to the silhouette your wedding gown graciously gave you. 

Jungkook’s mind betrays him for a moment - the vivid memory of the single intimate moment you two shared - an experience of a lifetime that had been etched onto the back of his head for the rest of eternity. 

Jungkook subconsciously tugs at his sleeves, racking his brain for something to stop his trembling hands but achieves nothing. His palms are likewise getting clammy, only adding to the poor man’s nervousness. When he meets his mother’s eyes one more time and she sees the emotion swirling in his son’s eyes, she lets out a choked sob, resting her head against her husband’s shoulders as he places a consoling hand on her back for support.  Jungkook diverts his eyes before his own tears threaten to fall. 

As you finally reach the altar with your own hands trembling like a falling leaf in autumn, Jungkook gives you a small smile, one you reciprocate with a warmer one. Tears start to well in his eyes. Jungkook closes his eyes for a moment, gathering his courage as he takes a deep breath. With renewed hope, he takes in his surroundings and sets another smile on his face, this time more genuine than the last. He spreads his arms and speaks - 

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today in the presence of God, to witness the joining of my very own brother, Junghyun and _________ in the holy covenant of marriage…” 

© hhyungz 2020. All rights reserved.

[victorsandvanquishers]

The Fall of the House of Usher with the Black Bulls? Bonus points if you add some eerie aura to it, but that is totally up to you! Thank you in advance!

Hello! Thank you for requesting this fic. I took the liberty to apply some more themes from “The Fall of the House of Usher” than just the prompt’s family, eerie, and home themes. Twins, legacy, and of course, the quintessential haunted house, are also explored in this story!

As a sidenote - this fanfic features an ensemble cast, but primarily revolves around Secre and Zagred. Happy reading, and thank you again for requesting! (ᵔᴥᵔ)

~~~

Zagred haunts her. In a mansion overflowing with people and endless cheer, he haunts her.

“You had five hundred years to make peace. I had to die and then wake up as a ghost, with all the same pain and memories I had when I was still alive. I possessed a human being. You spent your life sitting on top of a statue before finding a boy to manipulate into doing your bidding.”

As she makes her way through the winding halls of the grand castle, Secre remembers speaking with Patolli of the Elf tribe few times in her five hundred and seventeen years. Still, there are words reverberating through her head in his voice, words he's never spoken to her since he barely knows her. Patolli barely remembered her when they met face to face again after the souls of the dead elves ascended, and she can't blame him. She'd been a crown prince's servant – her existence was meant for the shadows.

And yet, that's not how it is now. There aren't enough shadows in Henry Legolant's mansion for Secre Swallowtail to hide in.

“I can't change my actions, nor can I change my feelings, but you... You pretend like you've always cared. At least I did what I did out of rage, even if it was misguided, but you spent five hundred years chasing a rock. Who can you blame for your eternity of longing? You could have chosen death in those five hundred years, but you chose to wait instead because you had an inkling of hope that your beloved could be brought back.”

Secre swallows the lump in her throat and makes her way down the small flight of stairs. It seems her room is on the second floor of the grand castle today, instead of the fourth floor she'd walked up to the night before. The landing is buzzing with Luck Voltia's electric currents, and what she senses to be Charmy Pappitson's cotton magic. The smell of freshly baked bread gently wafts through the landing, infecting each and every one of her senses with the kindness and love she's been starving for, for five hundred years.

It's hunger, this feeling, not longing because the longing she had for Lumiere is moot now, because Lumiere is dust. He's the ash at the bottom of a fire pit in the early rays of dawn, but the hunger she feels now is something different, something more manic, something that slept quietly in her chest during her time as a bird, but suddenly awoke when she came across the fifteen-year-old boy who desperately reminded her of a dead dream, a dream where she and her Lumiere had a child, a child that doesn't exist.

It's this hunger that finally compelled her to stop using that fifteen-year-old boy for her own agenda. It's the hunger that drives her now, that drives her to protect that boy and his friends, to look at the shadows of Henry Legolant's castle with love instead of fear because now the shadows can help her to find the best spots to launch an attack if someone tries to hurt the boy and his friends, these human beings that are filling the hole in Secre's heart.

Atonement? I was fifteen when I died, fifteen when I woke up again. How can you look at me like I'm trash when you were the one who received the mercy of time when all I received was uncontrollable rage at knowing that no matter what I did in the end, I could never bring back what I lost? How can you look at me with such disdain knowing you're worse?”

Perhaps that's why her Lumiere is dead now. She has to pay for her negligence of a child who looked to her as a companion. It doesn't matter that Asta forgives her, that the others see her as a part of their family, none of it matters because Secre committed the same sin as Patolli, used a depressed, lonely boy to commit violence in the name of her beloved, used Asta to revive her Lumiere to defeat Zagred, just like Patolli used William Vangeance to revive his Licht, the Licht that never loved Patolli like Patolli loved him.

Just like the way Lumiere never loved her the way she loved him.

“You're worse than I will ever be, Secre of the noble house of Swallowtail. You're a filthy noblewoman who had everything and pretended she had nothing. You deserve this pain more than I do. You deserved to lose your Lumiere after five hundred years of waiting. You deserved to be strung along like the little rat that you are.”

It stings, but it's true, and maybe that's why Secre is still here and not dead at the bottom of a river. Zagred haunts her because he knows her. Zagred knows her as intimately as the verdant forests of the Forbidden Realm know the sun. Secre starves for kindness and warmth, just like Zagre starves for a corporeal body. Secre didn't kill herself in her five hundred years as a bird because for her, it was a blip on the radar, nothing more than an obstacle for her to get past to bring back her most precious light, her Lumiere. Nothing was sacred in that quest – not the fifteen-year-old boy who cried for magic so that he wouldn't be discriminated against, not the Magic Knights who were too daft to notice that she wasn't just an ordinary bird, and certainly not the nobles who were too ignorant to notice how they themselves sowed the seeds of dissent in their own kingdom. For Secre, none of it mattered because only Lumiere mattered.

And Zagred knows, and so he haunts her.

He takes on the voice of an elf she barely knows, and he finds her deepest, most repressed feelings before snatching them from the depths of her chest and bringing them into the light. Zagred forces her to admit that she's no different than the elf who almost sacrificed the entirety of the kingdom to bring back his brethren. Patolli of the Elf tribe barely knows her, and she barely knows Patolli of the Elf tribe, but Zagred knows her more than Lumiere ever did, and so he haunts her, haunts her under the guise of an elf who'd murdered countless human beings and managed to get away with it all. Patolli is her long-lost twin, and Zagred will never let her forget it.

“Demon.”

She walks into the dining hall, the tables already decked with food, beverage, and cutlery. The voice has shifted now, becoming more and more like the creature it belongs to, and not the elf who escaped.

Secre attempts a smile on her saturnine face, and finds that the effort hurts. She stops before Charmy and Luck can get a look at her. They're occupied with putting on the finishing touches to the overflowing table, Luck setting booby traps on Magna Swing's plate and fork, while Charmy instructs her sheep to pack food for the magical beasts living in the castle dungeons. They don't notice her yet, because she's a wraith in her own right, a ghost drifting from room to room.

“Oh, you're up,” she hears Yami Sukehiro drawl. She turns to the taller man, also an early-riser but just as clandestine as Secre. There's a cigarette hanging from his mouth, and his clothes smell like fresh leaves and dew, so she suspects he was out training in the forest before Charmy can ring her breakfast bells.

Secre nods in assent and turns back to the two young adults who've finally noticed her and are waving her over to take a seat. She attempts another smile, and this time, something resembling a smirk appears on her lips, but it still hurts, because Secre isn't used to smiling. She didn't smile when she and her Lumiere used to spend hours poring over books and tinkering around with magic in the castle yards. She knows little about how to socialize, but she tries. She tries because Zagred will kill her otherwise, under the guise of her spiritual twin, the elf named Patolli who has left Clover without being punished for his crimes.

“But I'm not really here, am I, Secre Swallowtail?”

“Nero, there you are!” Asta calls out, barging into the breakfast hall with his cleaning outfit already coated with dust and mud. “I was wondering where you went!”

“She came down to eat like a normal person,” Yami deadpans before bonking the boy on the head with a closed fist. Asta screeches in pain before passing out for ten seconds. When he wakes up, his eyes are sparkling with endearment, and Charmy has a pail of food ready for the beasts in the dungeon.

“I'll be right back,” Asta declares with more sparkles than necessary, and then he disappears, and Zagred's voice gets just a little lower.

“And he's not your son.”

Secre blinks, her red eyes going redder. No one notices, not even Yami who is dangerously observant at times. She looks down at the plate that Luck has filled up for her. Her ears perk up at the sound of Vanessa Enoteca's tell-tale yawns, and her eyes land on Rouge the cat, who cocks its head to the side and watches her, its fur as red as her eyes.

“And they aren't yours to protect.”

Patolli the elf's voice is gone now. It's Zagred, the demon, the being who knows her better than Lumiere, the creature who stole everything from her, her life, her light, her humanity.

Secre's eyes bleed red and she wants to destroy, wants to burn down everything in her path because she's hollow, her soul is corrupted, and she's one step away from becoming a monster like Licht, a monster that Asta and the Black Bulls will have to euthanize once she loses control.

“Nero-san? Is everything alright?” Secre hears, finding that the rage vanishes suddenly. She blinks a couple of times to completely wash away the reverie before turning to the familiar voices.

It's Grey and Gordon, their eyes filled with worry. Noelle is right behind them, pretending she isn't concerned, but her fists are balled in her lap and she's pensive, waiting for Secre to answer their question.

“I'm fine,” she says, the plastic smile budding on her lips, “just hungry.”

“Then you should eat!” Noelle squeaks, because she can't help herself when she's worried, and now Grey is shakily piling too many warm biscuits onto her plate while Gordon is pouring her coffee, and Charmy is singing, and Yami is smoking, and there is warmth, and love, and cheer, and Asta is back, and Asta is everything she's ever hoped her child would be, a beacon of hope in the darkness she's always lived in.

“Thank you,” Secre says.

'Fuck you.' She hisses inwardly at Zagred's voice, Zagred who is only dead in his corporeal form, but not in essence, because demons don't die.

“But we're cousins now.” Zagred coos back, because Zagred knows her intimately, the demon that set her tragedies in motion, who wants her to lose her mind when her grief becomes as all-encompassing as Licht's, and she becomes a demon herself.

Because that's what she is now – one step from becoming a demon.

She looks around the table at the family of misfits, all of them unrelated to her in every shape and form, and yet fundamentally her family – her lifeblood. Her Lumiere always told her to find her own happiness, but he had been her happiness, but now her Lumiere is dust, and she's still alive.

She attempts to smile again, and this time, Yami smiles indulgently at her efforts while Magna asks her if she wants more biscuits, even though there are seven biscuits on her plate.

Zagred haunts her, and Lumiere is dust. Patolli is her spiritual twin, and Asta and the Black Bulls are the children she never dared to ask for, for fear of retribution. Her light is gone, and the demon persists, but now she has this – this castle and this home, these shadows she has grown to love.

“I'll see you soon.” Zagred promises her.

And the red of her eyes bleed redder, because Secre isn't worried. When the time comes, she will trust her family to take care of her like her Lumiere took care of Licht. Because this castle, this home, is testament to the faith that they will put her to rest when the time comes.

“Thank you,” she says again, and takes a bite from her biscuit.

*

[dustedmagazine]

Dust Volume 6, Number 9

New Bomb Turks

Late summer in the oddest year in memory, and we are still, improbably, deluged by music. The world, it seems, will go out with a bang and a whimper and a steady four-on-the-floor, and we at Dusted expect to have headphones on when it all blows to smithereens. This month’s Dust covers the usual gamut, from milestone ambient reissues to several varieties of improvised jazz, from eerie folk to honest punk rock, from surprising debuts to unlooked for but welcome re-emergences. Two hurricanes, a hinged and unhinged convention, wildfires, confusing hybrid school plans and scorching days won’t stop us, and they shouldn’t stop you either. Some days music is the only thing that makes sense. Listen along with Ian Mathers, Bill Meyer, Tim Clarke, Jennifer Kelly, Justin Cober-Lake, Andrew Forell, Ray Garraty, Nate Knaebel, Jonathan Shaw, Ian Forsythe and Patrick Masterson.

Aix Em Klemm — Aix Em Klemm (Kranky)

Aix Em Klemm by Aix Em Klemm

If there’s one word that probably applies to most fans of Stars of the Lid and its many peers and offshoots, it might just be “patient.” Which means the fact that Aix Em Klemm, the so-far one-off duo between SotL’s Adam Wiltzie and Labradford/Anjou’s Robert Donne, put out this stunning record just under 20 years ago and haven’t followed it up yet is probably regarded more as unfortunate than maddening. With Kranky issuing Aix Em Klemm on vinyl for the first time, though, and even saying of the duo “they still collaborate musically so new Aix Em Klemm recordings remain a possibility,” it’s a perfect time to both appreciate what they did actually give us and maybe just gently lament that there hasn’t been any follow up (yet?). From the reserved vocals that introduce “The Girl With the Flesh Colored Crayon” before it ebbs into beautifully reassuring drones, to the closing, improv-ed highlight “Sparkwood and Twentyone” (written and recorded on the day, after a year or more of trading tapes and mulling a collaboration), Aix Em Klemm stakes out its own unique place in the oeuvres of its creators and its transporting enough that a little over 40 minutes never feels like enough. Still, we can wait for more.

Ian Mathers

 Lina Allemano’s Ohrenschmaus — Rats and Mice (Lumo)

Rats and Mice by Lina Allemano's Ohrenschmaus

Pop the word Ohrenschmaus into a translator program and you’ll find that it’s German for “ear candy.” The choice of language makes sense, since the name applies to Canadian trumpeter Lina Allemano’s Berlin-based trio. But the imagery breaks down, since the music that she, electric bassist Dan Peter Sundland and drummer Michael Griener play isn’t sweet and easy. Allemano’s compositions are concentrated, full of events that are involving to follow and demanding to negotiate. One might expect the group’s configuration to leave plenty of room, but between the contrasting written events and the enthusiastic elaborations that the players work upon them, this music does not feel spacious at all. Griener shifts between skin and metal surfaces, and Sundland detonates flurries of activity, but the busyness of their activity never seems gratuitous. No, it’s just the thing to amplify the eventfulness of their leader’s fluent and wide-ranging playing.

Bill Meyer

 Jaye Bartell — Kokomo (Radiator Music)

Kokomo by Jaye Bartell

2016 Light Enough introduced me to Jaye Bartell’s pleasingly deep and measured vocal delivery and his elegant way with a tune, reminiscent of Leonard Cohen or M. Ward. There and on this new album, his words have the precision and droll humor of a writer sharply aware of the impact of a well-turned phrase. Kokomo takes its title from the faintly ridiculous and pathologically catchy Beach Boys song featured in the soundtrack to Cocktail. Bartell posits here that too often we live trying to bridge the gulf between our dreams and reality — and how tragi-comic this can be. Tellingly, Bartell’s music is sober and deftly played, but with a lightness to its step and a glint in its eye. (Look no further than the lovely, lilting “Sky Diver,” with its brushed drums and harpsichord.) He’s a smart, reassuring companion, someone who has gone the extra mile for his craft and doesn’t see the need to jump through hoops to catch your attention.

Tim Clarke

 Kath Bloom—Bye Bye These Are the Days (Dear Life Records)

Bye Bye These Are The Days by Kath Bloom

You might know Kath Bloom from her 1980s work with Loren Mazzacane Connors or from her spectral “Come Here” featured prominently in the 1995 film “Before Sunrise.” Her high flickering soprano, fluted with vibrato, is instantly recognizable, grounded in down-to-earth folk music, but tinged with otherworldly spiritual resonance. And oddly, her voice hasn’t changed much over the years. Up to last year (before the world fell apart), she was still performing periodically in Connecticut and Western Massachusetts, and now we have a new record from her, some 40 years past her Daggett Records debut. Here, her songs are gently shaped around her distinctive voice and twining dual guitars (she plays with fellow Connecticut musician Dave Shapiro of Alexander), yet not soft. They have a wiry idiosyncracy and a resistance to cliché, and the way the guitars work together is rather lovely. I like “When Your House Is Burning,” a song where the central metaphor—a burning house—is so precisely described that it may not be a metaphor at all, not a stand-in for musings on the value of connection, the fleetingness of stuff, but the thing itself. Bloom adds harmonica for the pensive “How Do You Survive,” a song about aging with grace and humor, and in her worn-in voices, the melody stretches out like spider web, transparent but nonetheless very strong.

Jennifer Kelly

 Catholic Guilt — This Is What Honesty Sounds Like (Wiretap)

Catholic Guilt really want us to get their honesty (there's no irony in the new EP's title This Is What Honesty Sounds Like). Authenticity has long been a vaunted (or derided) element of pop music, but the Melbourne-based quintet aren't posturing. They deliver straightforward rock with straightforward thinking, but that doesn't mean the music's easy. The group looks at the world with a mix of dismay and hope, as if they recognize that life is difficult but we don't have to let it kill us. The new EP leans into pop-punk, letting the upbeat approach direct the energy of the two standout tracks. “A Boutique Affair” looks at the challenges of increasing isolation as we age: “It's hard to make friends in your 20s / It's even harder to make 'em in your 30s / At this point I'm really dreading / The thought of making it to my 40s.” Vocalist Brenton Harris might wonder why we should bother growing, but he's determined to age loudly. Single “The Awful Truth” turns its pop guitars into rage as it looks at the sex abuse scandal in the Catholic church. By the time Harris says, “I can't wait to watch you burn,” it's clear that the truth may be awful, but at least it's honest.

Justin Cober-Lake  

 Cutout — Cutout (Driff)

Cutout by Jorrit Dijkstra, Jeb Bishop, Pandelis Karayorgis, Nate McBride, Luther Gray

The name Cutout implies removal, but that won’t get you very far in understanding this Boston-based jazz quintet’s music. Quite the contrary, Cutout’s performance dynamic involves judicious addition by a group of musicians who have made a long-term commitment to playing together. Alto and soprano saxophonist Jorrit Dijkstra and pianist Pandelis Karayorgis have been business and creative partners for years. They are the co-operators of Driff Records, all of whose releases feature one or both musicians, and they have shared several ensembles, including the large band Bathysphere, the Steve Lacy-themed Whammies, and Cutout. Trombonist Jeb Bishop, bassist Nate McBride, and Luther Gray often show up in these groups, and their smooth execution of sharp corners and sudden turnarounds reflects their shared understanding. What distinguishes Cutout from their other bands is the way they bring material by all five members into the set. Some of this album’s six tracks are single compositions, but others are sequential suites joined by improvisations. There’s plenty of dynamite soloing at work here, but the most intriguing turns come when one of the players elegantly links a couple of his bandmates’ compositions.

Bill Meyer

 Tim Daisy & Ken Vandermark — Consequent Duos: series 2a (Audiographic)

Consequent Duos: series 2a by Tim Daisy & Ken Vandermark

Ken Vandermark is a notoriously busy guy; in any ordinary year, the multi-reedist logs an extraordinary number of miles traveled, gigs played, records released and musical partners engaged. This 75-minute long recording braids together three threads of inquiry. It inaugurates the second volume of Consequent Duos, a shelf-full of improvised duos played in North America, mostly with Americans. And as with the other volumes of series 2a, it is a download-only release, part of a sequence of album-length recordings that may not be deemed to be major efforts, but that nonetheless don’t deserve to be filed away forever on some hard drive. Finally, it shares one night in Vandermark’s two decades and counting relationship with drummer Tim Daisy. It takes about ten seconds of any random selection from this concert recording, which preserves what went down one Sunday night in August 2011, to hear why these guys keep working together. The trust and empathy forged by playing literally hundreds of concerts together manifests in music that feels effortless, no matter how technically demanding it actually is. Whether it is the sound of drums being played at a galloping pace with the lightness of knitting needles while the baritone sax pops and roars eruptive masses of sound, or the bass clarinet leaping and trilling with joyous abandon while the percussion swings with dance beats that could get you arrested in certain countries, these guys know just how to make each other sound really good.

Bill Meyer

 The Dillards — Old Road New Again (Pinecastle)

The Dillards' influence on popular music outstrips their own fame (they might even be as well remembered for appearing on The Andy Griffith Show as they are for their proper recordings). The group became an important part of the development of country-rock, especially as they expanded the possible sounds of bluegrass. Nearly 60 years after their first release, they return with Old Road New Again. Only Rodney Dillard (sounding younger than his age) remains from the initial lineup, but he brings along a number of guests to fill out his act. Don Henley appears, and if “My Last Sunset” drifts into Eagles territory, that's no surprise, but Ricky Skaggs, Sam Bush, and others prove the act has plenty of flexibility left in it, whether cutting an original or reworking a classic like “Save the Last Dance.” The album winds down with “This Old Road” and a recounting of some musical history through playful allusion. Even as Dillard looks back, though, he thinks about new ways to push forward. Although the record could work just as reminiscence, the artists show more interest in what comes next.

Justin Cober-Lake

 Fire! Orchestra / Krzysztof Penderecki — Actions (Rune Grammofon)

Rune Grammofon · Fire! Orchestra - Actions (excerpt)

The Fire! Orchestra is not so much Swedish saxophonist Mats Gustafsson’s big band as his big house, the place where he can bring his myriad interests together and invite them to interact. They have already taken on free jazz, krautrock and abstracted songcraft, so why not one of the earliest documents of post-third stream classical-jazz interaction? Polish composer Krzysztof Penderecki originally composed Actions for Free Jazz Orchestra after hearing the Globe Unity Orchestra and handed it off to trumpeter Don Cherry to realize its first performance in 1971. Cherry’s imprint upon Gustafsson is deep; where do you think his long-running trio, The Thing, got its name? But this is no mere recreation. Some of Fire! Orchestra’s members weren’t even alive when the first version was performed, so the task is to find a way of playing the piece that makes sense now. So, they stretch things out, letting passages evolve organically. Special credit is due to the three-piece, whose contributions melt and glow.

Bill Meyer

 Ganser — Just Look At That Sky (felte)

Chicago quartet Ganser explores the bewilderment, claustrophobia and anxiety induced paranoia of the times on their latest album Just Look At That Sky. Brian Cundiff’s lockstep drumming anchors the record as Charlie Landsman whips out driving chords and intricate riffs that summon touchstones like Ian MacKaye, Thurston Moore and Rowland S Howard and push the songs to the edge of control. Spiky, equally detached and declamatory, Alicia Gaines (bass) and Nadia Garofalo (keyboards) share vocal duties working inside the kinetic rhythms to explore an interior world reactive to circumstance but seeking paths forward.  

Centerpiece “Emergency Equipment and Exits” demonstrates what the band can do when they stretch out and build layers of dread; Cundiff and Gaines drop into a propulsive groove as Gaines sings of parties past and now lost to the new reality: “Swallowing negative space/Like DB Cooper falling/Until I too am nothing/And it all seemed so big.” The tempo drops, a lonely keyboard riff, the song builds as Gaines intones “It’s a long way down” and Landsman’s guitar howls into the ether. The combination of exhilaration and enervation encapsulates the power that makes Ganser stand out amongst their peers working at similar intersections of post punk and art noise.

Andrew Forell  

 Godcaster — Long Haired Locusts (Ramp Local)

Long Haired Locusts by Godcaster

Possibly it’s the pandemic, though the trend seems to predate early 2020, but we have not heard a lot of over-stuffed, over-instrumented, over-the-top art-prog ensemblery lately. Godcaster, from Philly, busts the one-guitarist-on-the-couch paradigm wide open in this manic, Zappa-esque adventure. First of all, there are half a dozen musicians, augmenting the usual bass/drums/guitar with outre axes like flute, trombone and a variety of synthesized keyboards. All six of them lock into wiggy, hyper funky overdrive in opening salvo “Even Your Blood is Electric.” It’s a righteous groove, a tight and feisty disco extravanganza that mutated in the lab, but that sells it short and blurs the complications. Other cuts take the temperature down, but not the oddity. “Apparition of Mother Mary in My Neighborhood” feels like an almost pop song, though conceptualized by a 12-tone composer and interpreted in odd-numbered time signatures. Long Haired Locusts is too precise and earnest to be a gag, but an anarchist sense of humor pops up, as in the single “Don’t Make Stevie Wonder Wonder,” a Curlew-ish irregular jam punctuated with jump-rope chants. All these cuts have a lot of moving parts, a sense of play and a manic attention to detail, and if you’re sick of sad folksinger live streams, Godcaster could be just what you’re looking for.

Jennifer Kelly  

 Haptic — Uncollected Works (2005-2010) (Haptic)

Uncollected Works (2005-2010) by Haptic

Haptic is best characterized as a Chicago combo. Even though one or another of its members has lived out of town for roughly a third of their existence, the influence that such a situation has on their work’s pace only confirms that they are a band that needs to share space to get much done. The recordings on this DL-only collection of compilation contributions and curios dates from the first third of their existence, when Steven Hess, Joseph Clayton Mills, and Adam Sonderberg got together on a weekly basis. Heard end to end, these tracks don’t sound much alike. But whether the project at hand is framing a few piano noises with collected sounds, stretching out a bell’s toll, or patiently exploring the potential of signal corps training jazz, it sounds like the work of a common understanding about how sound can be molded and reframed.

Bill Meyer

 Boldy James — The Versace Tape (Griselda Records)

On his third album this year, Boldy James pairs up with Jay Versace, but despite a change in producers, there is little to distinguish the three tapes. After a long hiatus Boldy churns out music to flood the market, and every new tape causes head-scratching. Was it necessary to release this? As a stone cold pro, Boldy never repeats himself. He also never says anything new. His blueprint is all business talk with designer names splashed here and there: “First come, first serve, first through the third, no dealings \ Mama, I apologize, ain't mean to hurt your feelings.” When he steers towards Mafia references in his songs he sounds a bit archaic (but he already sounded retro when he first started in early 2010s). On The Versace Tape, as always, he raps like he’s not giving us the whole picture. He’s holding back, but maybe what’s left unsaid is the best part.

Ray Garraty  

 Madeline Kenney — Sucker’s Lunch (Carpark)

How big can a pop song go? This Oakland songwriter’s third full-length is boundlessly expansive without being particularly loud, the choruses swelling effortlessly, like a soap bubble blown to the size of your head. Kenney worked with Wye Oak’s Jenn Wasner and Andy Stack to produce Sucker’s Lunch and taps Lambchop’s Kurt Wagner, Boy Scout’s Taylor Vick and film composer Stephen Steinbrink for vocals. “Tell You Everything” is translucently gorgeous, layers of guitars, drum, percussion and saxophone shifting in iridescent patterns that never overwhelm its sleepy vocals. “Jenny” increases the friction, with a hard beat, surging synths and shoe-gazey gloss on the guitars, but sweetness in the vocals. Kenney’s subject matter is love and its complications, but she ends the disc in “Sweet Coffee” with a lucid purity. “I’m making coffee,” she croons in a breathy voice out of dreams, “Won’t you sit with me?” Sure, let me pull up a chair.

Jennifer Kelly

 Josh Kimbrough — Slither, Soar and Disappear (Tompkins Square)

Slither, Soar & Disappear by Josh Kimbrough

Writing an album in the spaces around an infant’s schedule is a delicate business, but Josh Kimbrough managed it quite well on this lovely album. His finger-picked rambles unfold like the slip-sliding time in a baby’s first year, a tumble of frantic activity interspersed with quiet, contemplative intervals. Kimbrough, a veteran of the North Carolina-based Trekky Collective, plays softly but with precision on acoustic solo pieces like “Sunbathing Water Snake” and “Giant Leopard Moth,” but his work really takes on warmth and resonance when he invites collaborators into his quiet, sunlit world. Blues-flecked “Two-thirds of a Snowman” gains an eerie glow from Andrew Marlin’s mandolin, which echoes Kimbrough’s licks in an upper register like the light hitting a shadowy corner. A sustained synth note in “Glowing Treetops” glitters like the surface of a pond—that’s Jeff Crawford of the Dead Tongues, who also play some bass—while gentle bent guitar notes zing like mosquitoes off its clear, cool liquid surface. Bobby Britt loops lush fiddle flourishes around this and other Kimbrough melodies; a rich, subtle blend of string timbres enlivens many of these tracks. The natural world also makes its appearance as well, most prominently in weather-haunted “The Shape of the Wind Is a Tree,” though the album’s light, clean tone throughout is like an open window. And yet despite multiple intermeshing elements, the album works very gently, light and soft enough not to wake a sleeping little one. “Simon’s Lullaby,” near the end, is beautifully communal, supporting Kimbrough’s clear, pensive guitar with the reassuring throb of cello, the bright promise of flute. Much of child raising is a solitary process, but Kimbrough’s meditation on it is not.

Jennifer Kelly

 Kimmig-Studer-Zimmerlin And George Lewis— Kimmig-Studer-Zimmerlin And George Lewis (Ezz-thetics)

Violinist Harald Kimmig, cellist Alfed Zimmerlin and double bassist Daniel Studer have been mapping out the possibilities of extra-idiomatic improvisation since 2009. They favor juxtapositions of raw and refined timbre, and in their roiling web of activity, the quicker a gesture passes, the more impact it seems to have. The Middle European trio matches up well with American trombonist/electronicist George Lewis, who is likewise devoted to making music spontaneously and unbounded by genre prescriptions or proscriptions. There are passages where it sounds like the four musicians have transcribed muttering and stifled laughter into musical activity. This incomprehensible vocal quality proves magnetic, drawing the listener ever deeper into the fray. While some might object to “chatty” improvisation, in this company, it’s a virtue.

Bill Meyer

Matmos — The Consuming Flame: Open Exercises in Group Form (Thrill Jockey)

The Consuming Flame: Open Exercises in Group Form by Matmos

Given the vigor with which Drew Daniel and MC Schmidt approach all of their work, it’s surprising to find Matmos’s new album, The Consuming Flame, to be somewhat lacking in cohesion. Like many of their previous releases there is a unifying concept — in this case, they corralled musical contributions recorded at 99bpm from 99 contributors — but it feels like the creative limitations they imposed on this project weren’t quite stringent enough. Inevitably, given the wide range of contributors (including Oneohtrix Point Never, Yo La Tengo and Mouse On Mars) and Matmos’s formidable technical virtuosity, there are plenty of satisfying passages that feature inventive vocal cut-ups, ear-catching beats and playful juxtapositions, but the presentation of these ideas within three continuous hour-long collages makes it hard to sift the gold as the music flows past. Bizarrely, the album’s presentation on Spotify is more listener-friendly, with each of the three discs broken down into digestible tracks that can be easily trimmed from the bigger picture to assemble your own collage of favorites.

Tim Clarke  

 Meridian Brothers — Cumbia Siglo XXI (Bongo Joe)

Cumbia Siglo XXI by Meridian Brothers

Eblis Alvarez, the sole musician behind the long-running Colombian space roots experiment known as Meridian Brothers, takes inspiration from like-minded predecessors in Cumbia Siglo XX for this electro-shocked take on coastal cumbia. Eerie blasts of jet-set synthesizer, buzzing funk bass and video game bleeps and bloops haunt the clip-clopping rhythms of these mad ditties. It’s like a Star Wars space port built on the verge of primitive villages, donkey tails swatting flies while lazer beams zip by. “Cumbia de la fuente” gene-splices syncopated hand-drum beats and traditional-sounding choruses with the splintered buzz of synth bass and glittery spurts of MIDI-generated arpeggios. It’s a hot tropical celebration lit by UFO glow. “Puya del Empresario” nudges a hip swaying cumbia rhythm to the foreground, but blares a rough-edged synth riff over it. “Cumbia del Pichaman” transforms Dusty Springfield’s “Son of a Preacherman” into a surreal technological marvel, buzzes and squeaks punctuating the offbeats like a DIY version of Zaxxon gone soft in the equatorial heat.

Jennifer Kelly

 Nas — King’s Disease (Mass Appeal)

Like all of Nas’s output in this century, King’s Disease, his 13th album, is pretty much unlistenable. King from the title here has two meanings. Every black man is a king (every woman is a queen) or should be. And second, it reminds that Nas is a king of rap, even though his royal days are long over. But even kings had to live on crumbs of their fame. With regard to the current moment in history, the album compels the listeners to unite and wear their blackness proud. Nas’ idea for achieving that? Just listen to his truisms and patronizing rants. On “Ultra Black” it’s “We goin' ultra black, I gotta toast to that”. On ‘Til the War is Won”, dedicated to women, it’s “May God gives strength to women who lost their sons \ I give all I have 'til the war is won.” All Nas gives to a black community is his bad music and maybe some charity. Every track here is to some degree about empowering black people, yet the only person Nas ends up empowering is himself. Every line on King’s Disease is disguised as virtue signaling, and the last thing we all need now is patronizing advices from rap millionaires.

Ray Garraty

The New Bomb Turks — Nightmare Scenario: Diamond Edition (Self-released)

Nightmare Scenario - Diamond Edition by New Bomb Turks

It would be understandable if, upon hearing the New Bomb Turks 1993 debut full-length, Destroy-Oh-Boy!, you thought to yourself, "They'll never top this." You wouldn't necessarily be wrong, but you'd be neglecting a much larger story and a key release in their catalog, 2000's Nightmare Scenario. With their debut, the Ohio quartet built a distinct machine out of familiar parts: cheap-lager-fueled thrash, butterflyin'-around rock 'n' roll swagger and barstool-philosopher lyrics. And with the possible exception of fellow buckeyes Gaunt, no other band at the time combined those attributes in quite the same way. It was as if America finally had its own Saints. The Turks would go on to make five more LPs over the next decade. Though lost in the shuffle a bit after jumping to Epitaph in 1996, the band were never going to become darlings of that label's skater boi base anyway. You certainly can't blame them for trying to reach a new audience nor should you overlook the output from that era. 2000's Nightmare Scenario, their third for Epitaph, is gritty, witty, and so full of Midwest blastitude you'd think it was year zero at Datapanik (or at least 1991). Yet to hear the album in its original mixes by Detroit studio guru Jim Diamond, newly issued for the 20th anniversary of its release, is all the more gratifying. It's stripped of that extra coat of paint found on the original, and it reveals what a decade's-worth of relentlessly plying one's trade in the punk rock free market will get you. The Turks were an absolute musical force by this point: they could still hit warp speed but could also swing with the best of them. And frontman Eric Davidson is in full possession of his vocal gifts (always a key aspect of the band's sound), nestling into the groove like a Funhouse-era Iggy or leading the charge as needed. The 20th anniversary Diamond Edition of the album is a nice reminder of just how consistently good the New Bomb Turks were and a nice splash of Pabst in the face for anyone who slept on that reality the first time around.

NOTE: Never above a little frat boy humor, the Turks were always much more about mocking those particular attitudes than ever truly embracing them. With that in mind 100 percent of the digital will be donated to Black Queer & Intersectional Collective bqic.net and Columbus Freedom Fund www.instagram.com/columbusfreedomfund www.instagram.com/columbusfreedomfund.

Nate Knaebel

 Siege Column — Darkside Legions (Nuclear War Now!)

Darkside Legions by Siege Column

Some thoughts that occurred on first listening to Darkside Legions, the new LP from Siege Column: Track one, “Devil’s Knights of Hell”: “Whoa, this is pretty nuts. Exciting — raw and barely coherent, but exciting.” Track three, “Snakeskin Mask”: “Okay, I get it. All this stupidity is just too frigging stupid. Enough, already…” Track five, “Funeral Fiend”: “Holy shit! I think this may be genius-level stupid!” And so on. The record keeps on doing that, and the listener (this one, anyways) keeps on generating phrases like “genius-level stupid” in an attempt to cope with the experience. Siege Column is constituted of two shadowy figures from somewhere deep in the chemically treated wilds of New Jersey, and for sure, this is music that could only come from New Jersey. I still can’t figure out if Darkside Legions is too moronic for words, or if that projection beyond words is the mark of some sort of greatness. Meanwhile, the next song is peeling out like a 1969 Chevelle that needs some serious muffler work, trailing empty cans of cheap domestic, wads of bloody paper towel and the smell of burnt hair. Yikes. Feel like I better catch up…

Jonathan Shaw  

 Smokescreens — “Fork in the Road” (Slumberland)

A Strange Dream by Smokescreens

A new single from LA’s Smokescreens is notably partly because David Kilgour took a hand in it, distilling the band’s jangly sweet sound in a Clean-like way, where the guitar comes coated in liquid clarity and everything else is drenched in beautiful fuzz. Even if you’ve been liking Smokescreens for a while, “Fork in the Road,” is something special, the thump of bass glowing quietly, the guitars cavorting, a synthesizer building dense shimmery textures, the chorus softly harmonized around a koan-ish verse. (How do you go straight at the fork in the road? ) The guitar solo two minutes in is worth the trip all by itself. If the upcoming album is anything like this tune, I’m in.

Jennifer Kelly

Matt Sowell — Organize Or Die (Feeding Tube)

Organize Or Die by Matt Sowell

Too often, the words “sounds like John Fahey” denote either laziness or a sparse descriptive vocabulary on the part of the people who utter them. But it cannot be denied, Matt Sowell sounds like he’s closely studied Fahey’s records, especially the less experimental ones of his Takoma/Vanguard period. There’s a similar melding of bluesy styling, compositional elegance, and emotional evocation. But Sowell’s motives are different. Where Fahey’s music looked at the snarl of personal memory and the blacker, deeper pit of his tangled subconscious, Sowell’s looks outward. Fahey tried to subdue demons within; Sowell calls out the devils of capitalism, and honors the purity of respect untainted by dollars or oil. Of course, since his music is purely instrumental, you can project whatever you want onto it. But in times like these, we need all the resistance and resonance we can get.

Bill Meyer

  Treasury of Puppies — S/t (Förlag För Fri Musik)

Treasury of Puppies by Treasury of Puppies

The Gothenburg duo of Charlott Malmenholt and Joakim Karlsson’s debut release as the Treasury of Puppies is lo-fi depressive but charming pop, recorded at the beginning of 2020. A Fairly short release, barely pushing past an EP length, it's in the vein of other Swedish underground releases of the past few years. The two trade chilly, spoken-sung vocals over a set of eight tracks, either buoyed by repeating, fuzzy guitars alongside field recordings, sauntering looped drums and hand-tampered tape sounds, or a layer of delayed static and fuzz churning under over drifting bells and slowly rotating keys.

Ian Forsythe

Trio No Mas — A Tragedy Of Fermented Undulation (Mars Williams) 

A Tragedy Of Fermented Undulation by TRIO NO MAS

Chicago has saxophonic tradition, and part of that convention is the expectation that the city’s saxophonists work hard. However you look at it, Mars Williams holds up his end. He’s busy on both local and world stages. In recent years you can hear him melding Albert Ayler and Xmas carols on a couple of continents, freely improvising with the Extraordinary Popular Delusions and playing not-just-old-memories rock and roll with the Psychedelic Furs. But it would seem that he has room for another band, if the situation is right, and that’s the genesis of this trio. Williams sat in with brothers Stefan and Aaron Gonzalez when the Texan rhythm section came through Chicago and then made a couple quick passes through their neck of the woods. This live recording, which is being sold as a download as Williams figures how to make up for not going on the road with the Furs this year, brings us to the other way that Chicago saxophonists work hard. Switching between several horns, he plays them all with a mix of vein-popping force and pyrotechnic fluency. The freres Gonzalez toggle between heavy lurching and molten streaming, pulling back every now and then to create quiet spaces in which Williams can tap into yet another Chicago tradition — the evocative chatter of little toy instruments. If you can handle the unbearable lightness of the no-physical format, this music brings plenty of satisfying heaviness to the sonic realm.  

Bill Meyer

 Various Artists — Total 20 (Kompakt)

Total 20 by Various Artists

Since 1999, each summer Cologne’s Kompakt label has compiled recent and new tracks from their roster. For fans of the label’s distinctive musical aesthetic — a shuffling, playful, pop-facing, experimental minimalist form of techno — the Total series seems a must-have, but the series has also served as an entrée into Kompakt’s world for curious newcomers, casual listeners and cash-strapped collectors. Total 20 maintains the high standards of its predecessors. Coming in at two plus hours and 22 tracks from stalwarts Michael Mayer, Voigt und Voigt and Jörg Burger share space with newcomers like Kiwi and David Douglas. This edition works as a soundtrack for in home dance sessions, concentrated listening and background for escaping the mope and drag of enforced isolation. The music itself is uniformly of high quality, but the sequencing is key here. Moments of elegantly constructed ambient minimalism (Soela’s “White Becomes Black”), euphoric vocal house (Kiwi’s “Hello Echo”) and high concept psy-trance (ANNA & KITTEN’s “Forever Ravers”) are interwoven with the familiar midtempo Kompakt sound. While it’s a lot to digest at first and may to some ears merge into an amorphous mass, Total 20 will lift your mood, shift your body and shake off your funk. Have a taste, you may find yourself grazing if not gorging.

Andrew Forell 

 Verikyyneleet — Ilman Kuolemaa (I, Voidhanger)

Ilman Kuolemaa by VERIKYYNELEET

 This new LP from Finland’s Verikyyneleet hits a bunch of the essential marks for hyper-obscure, one-man black metal: Difficult to pronounce and vaguely creepy name? Yep (translated from Finnish, Verikyyneleet means something like “tears of blood). Primitivist, kvlt-ish album art with lots of spindly, symmetrical, necromantical forms? Yep (pretty cool, too). Ghastly, croaked, semi-strangulated vocals and sweeping, epical song structures that likely attempt to represent the frozen forests of the Laplander landscape? Yep (see especially “Yhta Luonnon Kansaa,” which empties into another song called “The Great Scream in Nature”). But in spite of the degrees of familiarity struck by those various notes, there’s a compelling idiosyncrasy to Ilman Kuolemaa. And although Finnish weirdo Isla Valve — sole creator of the sounds — has been releasing music under the Verikyyneleet name since 2006, he hasn’t exactly been prolific: two demos in 2006, an EP last year, and now this LP. It’s all rather mysterious. But whatever the back story, the songs are really good. There’s a slightly smeared, off-kilter sound that adds to the strangeness. Is it 4 am and suddenly really, really quiet, wherever you are? Here’s your soundtrack. Light up some candles, turn it up loud and freak out the neighbors.  

Jonathan Shaw

 Young Dolph — Rich Slave (Paper Route Empire)

It’s not a little ironic that Adolph Thornton, Jr., 35 years old and some seven records into his career (not counting the endless mixtapes floating around), has peaked both in hard numbers — Rich Slave hit #4 on the Billboard 200 — and stylistically with an album that arrives after the Memphis rapper was supposed to retire from the game. When GQ interviewed him in May, Dolph was locked in and hanging out with his kids, marinating on his next move; with Rich Slave, he’s unlocked a socially conscious side of himself that, admittedly, was always bubbling below the usual braggadocio. Alongside guest spots from Megan Thee Stallion, established sidekick Key Glock and Chicago staple G Herbo, Dolph tweaks his usual template to speak to the moment in what is his most effective full-length deployment yet. There are a trillion rappers who work this hustle, but no one’s done it better this year.

Patrick Masterson

[ohdearhiddles]

TITLE: Angel of Death

CHAPTER: 5/? (Chapter Masterlist)

WORD COUNT: 5694

AUTHOR NOTE/WARNINGS: no warnings here today; hello!! I'm posting this a couple days earlier than originally planned because it's my birthday and I thought, "My gift to myself is going to be allowing my impatience to take hold." In short - I couldn't wait to share. I’m impatient. I was WAY too excited. (AO3 Link)

TAGLIST: @inumorph​ @literally-anythin​

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged!!! x

You blinked, unnerved by the sudden words that had escaped the lips of the raven-haired god. His expression remained blank as if the words were but a trick of the breeze, words whispered by the leaves on the trees. But you knew this wasn’t so. He had said that he knew you, as if you had either met before or he had received an abundance of knowledge about your life. Loki’s eyes never left the sky as you pulled your hand away from his grasp, almost mortified by the fact that he had kept the secret that he already knew who you were.

“What do you mean?” Your words were shaky as you stared, wide-eyed at the man before you. Perhaps all gods knew too much about you? Any logical explanation seemed to not make sense, and you figured that he would be open to giving an honest reply since he had already given away the biggest part of the secret.

His voice was calm, too calm, as he responded. “The people of this city requested help from,” he paused, weighing the words before speaking. “Someone I know. They said that they believed a bloodthirsty mutant to be loose in the streets of their home.”

You cowered into yourself, the weight of the words, “bloodthirsty mutant,” almost too much for your mind to bear. There were many things you would call yourself, but bloodthirsty was not one of them. If that was truly how the public viewed you, then maybe it was best to just let the police take you away and put you under lock and key for all eternity. Perhaps, then, you would finally find peace of mind. Before long, another question arose in the back of your mind.

“Who would be called for a mutant on the run?” You pondered aloud, eyes narrowing in confusion for a brief moment before it dawned on you. “The Avengers?”

Loki said nothing as if he hadn’t heard you speak. You pressed further, spurred on by the silence.

“Do you work with the Avengers, Loki?”

Loki seemed to wince at the words as his eyes fell shut. If you remembered correctly, the hero ensemble had taken him into custody shortly after the invasion that threatened the streets of the city. His eyes remained shut as he seemed to either be reliving the events or pushing the thought as far away as possible. “If you can call it that, then yes.”

He turned his head to peer at you. His eyes reflected the soft pastel colors that adorned the evening sky, offering a moment of silence that was not as daunting as the conversation should have made it seem. You were confused by his words, not knowing if he meant that he doesn’t work with them or if that meant that he didn’t enjoy doing so. The confusion was clear on your face for the god to see, and within a few seconds, he was explaining himself.

“I wouldn’t say I’m welcome, or well liked, in such a highly esteemed group of heroes.” He drew in a breath before continuing. “If I’m being honest, the only ones who do not seethe with hatred for me are my brother, Thor, and the Spiderchild.”

You fought the urge to laugh at his term for the young superhero that resembled an urban Tarzan, swinging to and fro, building to building, as if that was all he had done since he was born. “Spiderman,” you said, correcting Loki’s words.

“Is that not what I just said?” His tone was still calm but there was an edge of authority to it that made you want to sink into the ground, but the feeling was quickly shaken off when you realized that he didn’t seem angry with you. For a brief moment you wondered how someone who sounded so utterly calm and in control of his anger could be seen as an enemy to the world. But then again, you were an enemy to this city even though you had never used outright violence against those around you. So, with that thought, you figured that anything was possible.

You took a moment to fully process his words. The Avengers were called in to capture you, arrest you, imprison you, or whatever it was that they did with people of your kind. The mere thought of being tossed into some bottomless void or shot into outer space made you shiver. No one really knew what happened to those that the heroes subdued; all anyone knew was that one second the threat was there, and the next it was not.

“So, your team,” you choked on the words, stuttering to correct yourself. “The Avengers were called to help find me? One measly person, and they called them?”

Loki opened his mouth to speak before shutting it again. His brows furrowed as he seemed to be trying to find an answer to your question. The calm in his face seemed to gradually turn to something more, something tense. He sat up straight, the muscles in his jaw taut as the words began to form.

“I was not told any of the details; I wasn’t meant to be helping.” He stopped short, allowing for the words to sink in before he continued on with his response. “I had merely overheard the conversation before the door was so rudely slammed in my face.”

You nodded, letting him continue before you answered.

“Obviously, I found you far before they did. Even for a mortal, you were quite difficult for the scientists to even track down.” Loki’s voice carried a sense of approval and something close to admiration. His eyes met yours as a small, yet arrogant grin made it way onto his face.

Not knowing what to say, you pondered over his words. If what he said was true, then there was a group of exceedingly talented individuals actively searching for you. A shiver ran down your spine to think that maybe they had orders to shoot on sight, but then you figured that you were considered inactive for over half a decade. It would be unwise of them to open fire on a person who didn’t seem to have any fight in them anymore.

“I could have left the state,” you muttered, almost as if it were to yourself and only yourself. “The country even.”

“But, you didn’t.”

Once again, you found that you didn’t have any words to say right on the spot. It was like you felt as though you needed to think through each word carefully before speaking at all. For now, there was only one question on your mind.

“Why didn’t you turn me in?” You pressed. “You said yourself that you’re trying to make up for your past, clean your slate. You found me. Why didn’t you take the opportunity to prove yourself to them?”

Loki was quiet for a long time. The lamp posts were lit up by now as the sky dimmed and the darkness began to set in. The rich lavender and orange colors that filled the sky were replaced with midnight blue tones, cooling the air around you considerably. Chirping of nearby crickets and the soft rustling of the leaves filled the silence as you waited for him to say something - anything.

“Thor was quick to get angry when he learned of a mutant with powers that could so quickly kill a man.” You winced at his words, this time not being able to hide your distaste for such words to describe what you had done. When you met Loki’s eyes, they were soft, glowing in the dark. None of this was answering your question, but you allowed for it. “He wanted to hunt you down immediately, corner you, trap you.”

“And you didn’t?”

“Like I said, I was not even welcome in the room. My brother just happens to have a habit of speaking loud enough that all the realms can hear him. I overheard, and I was simply curious about you, so I sought you out on my own accord.” As he spoke, you wanted to reach out and touch his face. His eyebrows seemed to constantly be drawn together, his features always so distorted in concentration or some dark emotion you couldn’t quite place. You wanted to caress the lines, hoping that they would fade into a face that held contentment and peace for once.

“How did you find me?” You asked, knowing that the endless stream of questions was surely getting annoying for the mischievous god.

“I stumbled upon you,” you stared at him in disbelief as he said the words. Surely, he had tried to some degree, but upon seeing his face, you realized he was telling the truth. Or at least, he was telling a lie well enough that you couldn’t see the difference. After all, he was the god of such things. Loki continued, “To think that they were all trying to find you with computers. They had people searching both high and low, and all it took was a stroll in the park for me to come across you.”

His arrogant grin made a second appearance since the beginning of your conversation, and you had to admit, the sight was growing on you. You had seen small snippets of his personality when you met him on your shared bench, but he seemed to conceal it. Tonight, though, it was free reign, and you were thankful for the levels of honesty. Although, you would have preferred that he had told you these types of things sooner.

“I’m either very good at finding things I shouldn’t, or your realm is struggling greatly with their security measures.” His words were light, playful even. You thanked the stars for his ability to make you smile despite all that had been shared - the dark secrets, specifically. 

“How did you know I was the one?”

“I sensed magic from you, but it was too strong of magic for an ordinary mortal to handle.”

“So, you assumed,” you spoke. You tried to match his previous tone, but perhaps you failed. Loki glanced at you with a look in his eyes that was a mix of dissatisfaction and scrutiny. Attempting to show your intent, you smiled as a way of showing that you were only trying to poke fun and not insult his senses. The God of Mischief seemed to catch on because the dissatisfaction was soon replaced with a playful look. However, it disappeared almost as quickly as it came.

“Am I cursed?” You asked, genuinely concerned about the subject.

“I said nothing of the sort,” Loki responded, glancing up at the night sky before sighing. “I can only sense the magic. I cannot tell you what it is or what it can be used for.”

Silence seemed to fill every empty space as the two of you stared up at the sky. The stars were now alight, shining like shimmering freckles on a darkened sky. Unlike the times before, the quiet that had settled was more tense. Your mind wandered, wondering if Loki was telling the truth. After all, he was the God of Lies, it would be so easy for him to deceive you if he were to try. 

If magic was the reason for your abilities, then surely you couldn’t be to blame for it all, right? A weight in your chest seemed to disagree with you as your mind attempted to shift the blame on whoever had granted you such magic. Your mind was reeling, playing catch with both your emotions and your thoughts. Minutes passed of the mental toil before you had had enough of it.

“You never said why you didn’t turn me in.” You stated.

Loki seemed to tense at the words. You wondered if it was a touchy subject, but then again he was the one that brought it up in the first place. So, you were justified in the various questions you had spewed over the course of the time the two of you had been sitting under the sky. Then, as usual, the god said the last thing you had imagined.

“When I first saw you, you seemed harmless - just a mediocre individual sitting on the bench opposite of me,” he responded, a small smirk playing on his lips. “I could sense your power from afar, and I left that day fully intending on telling my brother that I had come across a mortal with unknown power and that he should inform the others. However, I ended up keeping you as my secret. I watched you. You read for hours each day. You smiled at the elderly as they passed. The fourth time I saw you, you had given up your seat to a couple who seemed weary.”

You didn’t say anything, but you sat, wondering how he had witnessed such things. What he spoke of had happened over two months ago, but you had only ever seen him once, and he was simply not someone you would not notice. So how had he gone weeks without being noticed? The questions were endless, but you stayed silent, hoping that his explanation would give you an idea.

“In turn, I gave up my seat to you.” He stated and your eyes widened. You briefly recalled a young man giving you his seat after the occurrence. That was Loki? “The next day, I wondered if you were kind to more than just the elderly. You did not disappoint. I appeared before you as children, women, the homeless, stray animals, and even noble looking men. Time and time again you were kind. So, finally, I wondered what you would do if you saw me for who I was. I wondered if there was kindness for the likes of me.

“That day, you were staring at me. I had felt it.” Your cheeks suddenly felt warm as you realized that he had known you were looking at him longer than you probably should have. “You said nothing, but you did not glower at me, nor did you turn your head away. You faced me, and there are not many who do so willingly.

“I returned the next day, wondering what would happen if I sat beside you, and you were still kind. You ask me why I did not turn you in, and I must say that I am not certain. Perhaps, I just enjoyed the company of someone who did not scrutinize my every move, someone who enjoyed my company as well.”

Your heart beat quickly in your chest at his words. The man beside you had watched you intently for much longer than you had realized, and while the sane part of you said that you should be terrified that he did that, another more laidback part of you said that he was the only reason you still breathed fresh air. If he had turned you in, then the police would not have even questioned you. You would not have been a suspect; instead, you would have been seen as the culprit. In some twisted way, Loki’s actions had saved you from being locked in a cage for the rest of your life. Even if it was only until you were caught by someone else.

Just as you were about to speak, the god stood to his feet. He held his hand out for you to take, and you stared at him for a long moment, wondering if he knew the impact he had made by not giving you up. You grabbed his hand, letting him pull you up gracefully as if you were nothing but a feather he had reached down to pluck from the ground. As you stood, waiting for him to say something, Loki reached down and picked the shawl off the ground, patting it out before folding it beneath his arm. 

Without a word, he turned and began walking. You followed closely behind him, not even attempting to break the silence that had formed. While walking, you stared at Loki’s back. You watched as the muscles contorted and flexed with every movement, and you wondered how it would feel to trace the outline of them. How would they feel beneath the touch of your hand? Subconsciously, you reached out to touch him; however, just as your hand ghosted over the fabric of his shirt, a soft rumble emitted from your stomach. Loki turned quickly right as you put your hand back down by your side. His eyebrows furrowed at you before he placed a hand over his own stomach.

“Would the lady accompany me to dinner this fine evening?” The playful tone in his voice was enough for you to gladly nod in response. “What shall we get?”

You glanced at your surroundings, attempting to figure out where you were in order to aid in the decision. “Take-out?” You finally asked, knowing that take out was everywhere in this city and a place to get some was guaranteed to be nearby. Glancing quickly at your phone to see whether or not you were right, you almost missed the humorous laugh that escaped Loki’s lips. He smiled at you as you raised your eyebrows in his direction.

“A prince of Asgard, the realm that served as protector to many others including this one, has asked you to accompany him to dinner, and you do not take advantage,” he spoke in disbelief, a laugh following his words. “I could probably provide you with the best food this city has to offer, and you ask for something as simple as cuisine stuffed in a box.”

You weren’t sure how to respond to him; so, you smiled in return, offering a meek, “Yes,” in reply.

“You fill my day with much wonder,” he stated, eyes ablaze with happiness that you wished would stay. 

Loki followed your lead as you took him to a small Chinese restaurant, ordering a few items over the phone on the way. There was no small talk or reasons to carry on the previous conversation. He had shared what you had pried for, and he had done so willingly. If you pressed any further, who knows what else would get revealed. 

After picking up the food, you offered your apartment to Loki as a place to eat. He agreed relatively quickly, seeing as though you were shivering at this point from the chill that blew through the towering buildings. The food was spread out across the counter as the two of you sat on adjacent chairs, fumbling with chopsticks and forks to fill your empty stomachs. You had never expected to be eating greasy Chinese food with a god, but then again, you never expected to even come across a god in the first place.

You allowed for the silence to stretch long after it probably should have, but you were enjoying the company whether or not he was speaking. But, after a while, something started to bother you. His previous comment about enjoying your company seemed to have made an impression, and you wondered if he truly believed no one enjoyed his presence in return. 

“Loki,” you said, trying to catch his attention from the box of noodles he was indulging in. “There must be someone who’s enjoyed your company in the past, right?”

His eyes seemed to darken at your words, his body tensing. You partially regretted disturbing him because you didn’t want to cause him grief or frustration. But your curiosity was ravenous; it would eat away at your mind if it couldn’t satiate its hunger with knowledge. Loki put down his food and swallowed before speaking, “Yes, perhaps.”

You sighed in response, not knowing why his answer bothered you so much. “You’ve never told me much about your life, so if that was a topic better left unspoken, then I’m sorry. I didn’t mean any harm.” You fumbled with your words. “Besides, I enjoy your company.”

“You do?”

“No, I spent every day with you for the better part of a month because I hated your guts.” The sarcasm flowed from your mouth easily enough. When you looked at the god beside you, his jaw was clenched as if he was taking you far too seriously. So, you spoke again, a softer tone taking hold, “There were easily a hundred other benches I could have sat at in this city, yet I sat with you each and every day. Don’t pretend like you weren’t aware of that.”

“You’re right,” Loki sighed in contentment. “My presence is rather alluring, isn’t it?”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his words, and when you turned to cast a smile in his direction, you caught a familiar far-off look in his eyes. Sometimes you wondered if Loki’s demeanor was such a well built facade that people around him wouldn’t be able to tell the difference. He still held a look of arrogance from his previous comment, but his eyes told an entirely different story. If anyone else were to look into them, would they see the same? Would they see the vulnerable look in his eye and see the same thing you did?

“What do you think of when your mind wanders like that?” You asked, cutting the silence with your words. Loki appeared to be surprised by your question as if he didn’t expect you to be so observant of him. After a moment, you smiled apologetically, following the question with, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.”

He nodded slowly before leaning back in his chair, hands falling to his lap. You waited patiently for him to speak, not wanting to push him any further than you already had. The two of you had never been in each other’s presence for such an elongated time, part of you was afraid that his patience with you would only decrease with every passing second. But Loki was calm, and his breathing was even before he spoke.

“My mother,” he said softly, eyes staring off as if he was reliving a moment he would have much rather forgotten. You wanted to say that it was okay to not tell you, but at the same time you wanted to know. So, you sat silently in case he chose to continue. “She was the only one who did not seem to favor my brother over me. When I had gotten myself into trouble, she was always there to ensure that my father did not go too far in his punishments. She taught me magic, and she treated me as her own even when I did not deserve such blissful things such as kindness and happiness.”

“She sounds like a good mother,” you responded when the silence between his sentences had stretched too long.

“Oh, she was,” he whispered, a pained expression taking hold of his features. You processed the words before you suddenly realized the meaning. In an attempt to comfort his pain, you reached forward and grabbed his hand gently. Pulling his pale fingers along with yours, you held it in your lap. As you did so, you could feel his eyes on you, probably wondering what you were even doing.

“What happened to her?” You finally asked after a minute or two.

“She was murdered during an invasion,” his voice was low, a hint of anger behind his words as he seemed to recall the moment it occurred. You didn’t speak for a second; instead, you gently toyed with his hand, tracing the lines in his palm while enjoying the cold, yet welcoming, skin against your own.

“I’m sorry, Loki.”

Loki shook his head firmly, “There is nothing to be sorry for. I killed the one responsible as soon as the opportunity presented itself. I would have killed him sooner if it wasn’t for,” he paused. “My predicament at the time.”

“Predicament?” You asked again, mentally tugging on your hair for being so ridiculously curious. He couldn’t possibly be okay with how many questions you were asking him. You were probably tiring him.

“I was imprisoned at the time,” Loki seethed in response, his hand that you held clenching on reflex with his anger. You let out a small yelp at the sudden pain jolting through your hand as it got crushed in the grip of the god. The sound of your pain quickly caused him to lessen his grip on your hand exponentially. “I seem to not know my own strength at times,” he whispered, gently holding you in both his hands. For a moment, he caressed the skin. Then, he brought the skin of your palm to his lips, whispering words of apology before planting a gentle kiss to your palm. He didn’t let go as he turned your hand back over and kissed your knuckles as well.

You shook your head at him, smiling in appreciation for the gesture, “It’s alright.” I provoked you, it’s not your fault. I asked for it, you added on in your mind. The pain was a firm reminder that Loki held so much strength in his seemingly ordinary, well not ordinary - he certainly looked godly, body. If he wanted to, he could break you with a simple flick of his wrist.

Loki didn’t let go of your hand. Instead, he gazed into your eyes, watching, waiting for something. You weren’t quite sure what he was waiting for. A warmth spread to your cheeks at the intensity of the stare, and you weren’t sure if his look was one of analytical origin or something else entirely. You attempted to escape his stare by turning your head to one side, rubbing your cheek against your shoulder in an effort to calm the growing heat radiating from its surface.

This clearly was not what Loki wanted, because one of his hands reached up to grasp your chin. Without so much as a warning, he leaned forward, placing a soft kiss to your lips. It was quick, like a child who was sharing their first kiss with a friend just to get it over with. Except there was no giggling, no joyous screams involved. Your hands flew up to your mouth, covering your lips as your eyes began to burn with impending tears from what had just happened. It dawned on you then and there that you had never informed Loki of how the men around you had died. You never told him that this was the last thing he should have ever done.

“What have you done?” You asked, looking at the man before you as if he were about to disappear. Because, quite frankly, he could die at any second and there was nothing you could do about it. Loki dropped your hands immediately, eyes narrowing.

“Am I that a repulsive creature,” he began, his voice now dripping with venom. “Must you cry from the touch of my lips on yours? Or were you lying, and I am nothing but a monster to you?” He stood quickly from his spot, about to turn away to leave right as you reached up to grab his wrist. Your eyes were glistening with tears as they threatened to spill over and cascade down your cheeks. 

“No,” you choked out. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

He stood still, eyes still narrowed as he scanned you up and down. You stared up at him, his body looming above you, threatening you. Your grip on his wrist tightened as the tears fell. Almost as quickly as before, his mood seemed to shift.

“You say that you don’t want to hurt me,” he murmurs. “How could you hurt me?”

The words settled poorly in your stomach; it reminded you too much of your dream the night before. You didn’t know how to respond. How could you? How could you hurt him? The words were on repeat, and soon your mind was reeling, replaying your dream over and over. The vision of Loki dying right before your eyes causing all your being to freeze. You had gone 6 years without incident, and you were careful. You shouldn’t have gotten close to him, you thought. You shouldn’t have given him such hope.

“The kiss,” you whispered. Your grip on Loki’s wrist faltered as you began to shake with fear of what you had done. He took a step towards you, and you closed your eyes, not wanting to see the anger and hatred he probably held for you for allowing such a thing to happen. Apologies escaped your lips like an endless river. With your eyes closed, the vision of your dream was only more vivid. You feared that when you opened your eyes, Loki would be there, lifeless and his ghost would wander your mind, reminding you of the horrible thing you had done.

You were reminded of the words that tore you from your dream, “I trusted you,” and the tears fell even harder. Your hands covered your face as you began repeatedly muttering the same three words: “I’ve killed you.”

You heard Loki kneel before you as he pulled your hands down to your sides. He brought his hands up to cup your cheeks, pulling you down towards him. Your eyes shot open as he placed a feverish kiss to your lips, wanting, needing the affirmation that perhaps you wanted him as much as he seemed to want you. You attempted to push him away but his strength was overpowering and you couldn’t get him to budge from his position. After a few moments of his lips being slotted against yours, he pulled back, holding your hands to his chest as he rested his forehead against your own.

“Tell me,” he began. “You didn’t want me to kiss you because you were afraid of hurting me?” He was breathless as he spoke as if the mere thought that you wanted to kiss him had knocked the wind from his lungs. “Is it wrong to believe you may have wanted to kiss me, too?”

You were dumbstruck. Was not wanting to kill him not a good enough reason? He truly is insane, you thought. 

“This isn’t the time for that kind of question,” you rushed out, the tears pouring freely once again. Panic, you wanted to scream. Loki stood to his feet, pulling you with him. “I just told you that I’ve basically killed you, and you’re worried about the fact that I want to kiss you.”

“So, you do?” Loki laughed as if nothing was wrong, as if he hadn't just been radiating immense amounts of fury, gripping your hands tighter and placed them over his heart once again. It was beating quickly beneath the warmth of your hand, and you tried to pull away in case the rapid beating was a sign that he was about to suffer from a heart attack. “I’m still alive, darling,” he spoke, his words meant to be comforting. They were anything but. “Forget your worries for a second and be happy with me. What’s done is done.”

You gasped at his words, pushing away from him, “How can you say that? You could die any second now.” You fumbled for your bag, attempting to find your phone amongst the various items you had stuffed inside. Before you could even think, you were calling the number to emergency services. They probably couldn’t help a dying god, but perhaps they could call the Avengers and they can cryogenically freeze him before anything happens. “Maybe there’s a cure. Maybe if we find someone in time to run some tests on me, then -”

Loki ripped the phone from your hands, mumbling words about a mistake to the operator that had picked up. “Then what?” He inquired, shoving your phone in his pocket.

“Then maybe it can save you.”

“And if your efforts fail?” He asked, grabbing your shaking hand and placing it on his lips. He murmured against the skin, “Will you allow me to die with my hopes high and my lips cold from your neglect?”

You stared at him at loss for words. All of this from meeting Loki to the almost-date to the confessions and now the kiss. It was too much, and it was moving far too quickly for your liking. The god grabbed hold of your other hand and pulled you closer, offering a smile.

“If what you say is true about all the others who have kissed your lips, then there is no redemption for me. I would prefer my final moments not to be filled with such despair,” he spoke, and as you glanced up to meet his eyes, you could have sworn that they had deceived him. There was fear, blatant fear, beneath those emerald irises. Loki must have noticed your perception because he closed his eyes briefly, and when he opened them, the fear was gone. “Now that I’ve kissed the lips of this supposed Angel, my fate is sealed. If that’s the case, then let it be. I shall accept that fate as long as you allow me to kiss your lips until my dying breath.”

You gaped at him and his words. Never in your wildest dreams, or nightmares, did you ever think someone would say something so romantically tragic to you. Loki’s words sounded almost like a love confession, but you knew it was far from that. Yes, you couldn’t deny the obvious attraction, and Loki enjoyed your company and more so seemed to enjoy you, but love was something entirely different. It took you a moment to wrap your mind around the Shakespeare-esque speech he had just spoken, wondering if he truly meant it.

There had been fear in his eyes; you saw it. There was no denying that this god was not yet ready to depart from this world, but he was here, comforting you as if you were the one dying. How did you deserve this? And how did he deserve such a cruel fate? However, as you stood there, you were faced with the inevitable truth that he had blatantly mentioned.

There was no going back now.

[clydeloganisababe]

What I Wouldn’t Do (2/3)

Guess what, it’s date time! Now on AO3. Chapter 1, aka the meet cute, is also available!

Robbie was picking you up in an hour and you still had no idea what you were going to wear on your date. He had made a reservation at a restaurant downtown, Cecily’s, and according to Google it had 2 Michelin stars, an impressive and expensive wine list, and it overlooked the bay. It looked fancy, much fancier than any restaurant you had ever been to before. You did some mental calculations and one meal alone could easily be over $150, even if you were ordering conservatively. It was sweet that he wanted to spoil you, but you would have settled for take-out and Netflix at his place. In his den.

You had tried on several dresses, but none of them seemed right. You needed something classy, but sexy. Something elegant and impressive enough for a 5 star restaurant, but something that would still knock Robbie’s socks off. Was he more of a boob guy, or an ass man?  You were going to be sitting down for most of the evening, which meant that he’d be staring at your torso. Boobs it would be. You hoped to find out for sure later.

You settle on a classic black dress with a low neckline. Slipping into neutral pumps to complete the ensemble, you swipe a swath of ruby across your lips. Simple, but sexy, you thought. And in your good bra, your tits look perfect.

Your phone buzzes and a text banner with Robbie’s name flashes across the screen. Alpha is here. You quickly give yourself a final once over. Would he like what he sees?

You open the door and there he is in all his brawny glory. A dark blazer complements his large frame, while his dark slacks hug his generous thighs. Underneath the blazer is a crisp white button down with the first button undone, his gold chain glinting from underneath the collar. His dark hair is free tonight, cascading handsomely across his face. You can taste it already, his sweet, spicy, intoxicating scent.  “Hey doll,” he rumbles, and the vibration goes right through you. His eyes give you an excruciatingly slow onceover, travelling up your curves. His gaze lingers on your cleavage for a moment, but he tears his eyes away to land on your face. “You look good enough to eat.”

You blush, but can’t hide your pleasure. “Hope you came hungry,” you tease. He takes a step towards you, thick arms braced against your door frame. “Babydoll, I am starving,” he growls.

“Then can I get you a bite before we go?” you say, looking up at him through your lashes. Robbie swallows at the innuendo. An Alpha’s bite. You can’t believe you said that. His foot crosses your threshold, but he quickly stops himself.

“If I come into that apartment,” he begins, dark eyes boring into yours, “then we will definitely miss our reservation.” You want to invite him in, into your nest, so badly. But you’re hungry for other things too.

You quickly grab your purse and lock up, joining Robbie on the steps to your apartment. His hand snakes around to the small of your back, and he bends down to give you a quick peck on the cheek. This sweet gesture surprises you, but it’s not unwanted. You like his boldness. “Come on, my car is this way.”

Car is an understatement. Parked in front of your apartment is a sleek, black Lamborghini. He clicks a button and the doors swing upwards, unfolding like wings. “Holy shit, you drive this?” you exclaim, sliding into the front seat.  “Couldn’t resist it,” he chuckles. “I can see why,” you mutter, admiring the supple leather interior. The doors swing closed, locking you in the car with him. His spicy scent is thick and rich here, and your mouth begins to water. How can one person smell this good? You want to rub against the leather, the console, everything in this car to let everyone know that you were here and that Robbie is yours.

Robbie punches the gas, driving with arrogant ease, peeling out of your apartment complex and zipping in between cars down the highway. The speed thrills you even as it terrifies you. He reaches a hand over the console and you instinctively lock your fingers with his. His hand engulfs yours, and you clench to think about his thick fingers inside of you. How many could you take?  You consider leaning over to grab his thigh, but the fear of crashing stops you. You mentally chastise yourself, reminding yourself that this is a first date. Your heat is still months away and you are already acting like an animal. You almost wish you had taken a blocker.

“You ok, babe?” Robbie asks, running his thumb across yours. He can probably smell the sour scent of your nerves.  “I’m ok,” you return. You decide to be honest. “Just a bit nervous, actually,” you admit.

“You shouldn’t be,” he purrs. You close your eyes, allowing the vibration to relax you.  Alpha will protect you. He extends his enormous thumb down to your wrist where he circles your gland. Another happy wave of pleasure washes over you. “I’ve been looking forward to this for a while. It’s gonna be perfect.”

***

Robbie pulls his lambo up to curb, exiting the car with elegant but powerful grace. The doors swing upwards, but before you can even budge, he slides over to your side and offers you his hand, gently helping you out of the car. His actions are gentlemanly, but the smirk playing across his lips is anything but.

“Here,” he tosses his keys to the valet. “Don’t scratch it,” he barks. Reddit would have you believe that an Omega should be thrilled at Alpha aggression, but his harsh words to an innocent bystander make your stomach churn. You understand why he’s protective of his car, but this sudden change in attitude is off-putting. He opens the door for you and you mumble a quick “thank you,” but you cannot meet his inquisitive eyes as you brush passed him into the dimly lit foyer. He follows behind you, a confused, trailing shadow.

The hostess quickly finds your reservation and leads you to a table, weaving through a sea of well dressed couples and picture perfect families. A wave of scents overwhelms you, some sweet, others cloying, some rank, some sour.

Alpha is providing. Accept his generosity.

Your table is next to a large bay window, providing you both with a beautiful view of the sunset as it slowly dips across the bay. Robbie pulls out your chair for you and you sink as gracefully as you can into the seat. His warm palm comes up to rub the gland at the nape of your neck, sending shivers down your spine and forcing your muscles to unclench. Your mating gland. He shouldn’t touch you there, not in public, not so soon, but you don’t want him to stop. His lips kiss your temple. Even though he draws away, you know his scent will linger on you, in one of your most intimate places. He’s marked you. A low, simmering heat ignites inside of you. He settles into the seat across from you, flicking open the menu. “Order anything you want,” he says, coolly. “Everything’s on me tonight.” You blush deeply. “That’s very sweet of you,” you warble. Oh god, you are chirping for him already. His hand reaches across the table and grasps yours. He interlocks his fingers with yours, but his eyes never leave the menu. He radiates contentment.

The menu is full of words you don’t recognize and pairings that seem strange. Is sumac a thing now? What is quince? Why are they serving smoked roe with crème fraîche? It must be good, this place has 5 stars, you reason. There is a single dish in English called “Lucas’s Famous Quail Pot Pie”, which sounds delicious, but you’re worried that Robbie will think your aren’t sophisticated if you pick the only menu item you can pronounce. At least you recognize caviar.

“Good evening, my name is Sammie and I’ll be your server tonight. Can I start you two off with anything?” You snap to attention, but Robbie barely looks up.

“Yeah, I’ll start with a glass of the Domaine Ostertag Muenchberg Riesling and, uh, so will she,” he says without hesitation.

“Wonderful, and did you want to start with any appetizers while you look over the menu?”

“Yeah, let’s start with the duck confit tortelloni.”

“Perfect! I’ll be right back with your order.” Sammie darts off before you can interject.

Robbie runs his thumb over top of yours, oblivious. After a moment you say “What if I don’t want  wine?” Robbie perks up, brows furrowing. “What do you mean? It’s a fantastic wine, you’ll love it.”

“Ok, but what if I had wanted a Cosmo? Or a Manhattan?” He stares at you blankly. “Do you want a Manhattan?” he asks. “I can call her back,” he whistles sharply. “Hey Sammie -“

“Robbie,” you hiss. You clench his hand begging him to listen. “I don’t want a Manhattan. I want to order my own drink when I’m ready.”

“Oh. Yeah. Of course.” He chews his lip for a moment, and almost seems lost. “But I thought Omegas liked that.”

“Liked what?”

“Ya know,” he looks at you pointedly. “When an Alpha takes charge.”

“Yeah but there’s a difference between taking charge and being completely controlling.”

He’s silent for a moment. The deepening shadows of the sunset obscure his angular features, casting them in sharp relief. He reaches up and rubs his face, releasing a loud exhale.

“Fuck, I’m sorry babydoll, I’ve already fucked this up. I’m not that kinda guy, I wanted to-“ He begins to pull away, and you can smell his rising panic.

“Alpha,” you chirp, grasping his hand and interlocking your fingers again. You swipe your thumb over the gland at his wrist, sending him a shock of reassurance. “Just ask me what I want next time. And be a little nicer to the server,” He flushes with shame. “I’m sorry. I was trying to do something nice. Guess I’m nervous too,” he mumbles. “It’s ok,” you say, giving his hand a playful squeeze. “Besides, you can take charge in other ways,” He growls appreciatively, re-igniting that low simmering heat in your belly.

You order the seared foie gras, for kicks, and Robbie orders the venison loin, which he tells you is very trendy right now. He’s surprisingly easy to talk to. You were expecting him to be a man of few words, but Robbie has an opinion on just about everything and he wants to hear yours too. When he can resist that Alpha urge to posture, he’s a sweet, attentive guy.

Turns out, Robbie broke up with Sophie for all the clichéd reasons that Alphas and Betas break up. “She was a sweet girl,” Robbie begins “But, eh, she and I, we weren’t really on the same wavelength about things.” He pauses for a moment. He takes a sip on his wine. “And I kinda don’t think she really liked me,” he admits, embarrassed. “I mean, she liked my car, the flowers, the gifts, the dates but,” he rubs his chin, then sighs. “I don’t think she really liked me.”

“Well, then she’s an idiot. Good riddance.” You sip your Manhattan. “And for what it’s worth, I like you.” He gulps his wine.

“You barely know me. What if I’m a brute.”

“I certainly hope you are,” you tease, nudging his knee under the table. Quick as lightning, he snatches your leg, rubbing circles into your thigh. “You have no idea, baby girl,” he promises. “And, ya know. There was this cute omega florist that was driving me freaking crazy with her talent and her delectable scent,” he inches higher. “And her cute hips.” You don’t want him to stop, but you don’t want to get kicked out either. You playfully swat his hand away. “Later, Alpha,” you tease. He pulls back, fingers trailing down your thigh and calf as he goes. Dinner’s over, but he still looks ravenous.

Robbie pays with his sleek black card. He tips generously, you note. A good quality in a mate. When the valet brings the car around, Robbie slips a $20 into his hand. “Sorry ‘bout earlier bud, I got it from here,” he says before the butterfly doors swing open. You smile up at him, but as you begin to slide into the seat, a rough hand slides itself against your ass, giving you a quick squeeze before you can settle into the car.

“Robbie!” you squeak, but he’s already disappeared to the other side of the car. He practically dives into the driver’s side. As the door swing down you are once again engulfed in sandalwood and cinnamon and it makes you want to launch yourself across the console into his lap.

“So, baby doll,” he says, clicking his seat belt into place, “Where are we going?” His gaze is dark and hopeful. You hum non-committally, even as your hand drifts over to his thigh. “I don’t know, I was thinking we could get dessert somewhere?” You give him an experimental squeeze and he growls, igniting the engine.

“Baby, you can have the whatever you like. My apartment’s nearby, sound good?”

“Sounds perfect.” His car peels out of the parking lot with an eager screech.

[orangeflavoryawp]

Jonsa - “A Violence Done Most Kindly”, Part 2

I just couldn’t leave you guys with a solo chapter so I’ve upped the ante in this next one.  ;)  Expect future updates to be between one and two weeks, though.

Also, keep in mind that this fic is Stark-centric, and the plotlines I'm following won't necessitate the inclusion of certain characters, even ones I love. So don't be surprised if some of your faves don't make an appearance. This ensemble piece can only ensemble so much without losing cohesiveness.

“A Violence Done Most Kindly”

Chapter Two: Don’t Look Away

“She has had enough of men playing to roles they haven't the right to fill." - Jon and Sansa. Stark is a house of many winters.

Read it on Ao3 here.

Part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 fin

* * *

“My lady, if I may,” Baelish calls to her, catching her after a council meeting, halting her in the hall to her chambers.

           Sansa stills reluctantly, nodding to Brienne when she eyes the Lord Protector warily.

           “Was there something we missed in the meeting, my lord?”

           Baelish makes his way up to her, a smile just this side of a grimace gracing his features.  “I had hoped to speak with you outside the council meeting.”

           “We’re speaking now,” she grants him, and grants nothing else.

           Baelish glances to Brienne at her side, eyeing the way she keeps a perpetual hold on the hilt of her sword.  Sansa wonders wildly if he remembers that day, so long ago.

           “What if I want you to die, here and now?”

           “Privately, if you please, my lady,” he says, head inclined in deference.  

           Sansa watches him for just a moment, contemplating, and then she’s nodding to Brienne, continuing the walk to her chambers where she invites Baelish inside, and Brienne stands guard dutifully by the door, though not without a last lingering look of concern.  Sansa offers her a small smile of reassurance before closing the door behind her.

“I do wish to grant you what time you need to reacquaint yourself with your long-lost sister, unrecognizable though she may be,” Baelish starts, puffing his chest out with the words as he takes in her solar, “But I do hope you haven’t forgotten that there is a conversation to be had between us now, especially so because your brother has gained yet another supporter in your sister.”  He turns back to her with something like self-satisfaction – keen and impossible to miss.

           She begins to remove her gloves.  “I have not forgotten.”

           “Good.”  A step toward her.

           Sansa drops her gloves to the desk beside her.  “Nor have I forgotten your warnings.”

           A gleam lights in his eye, perhaps pride (though it is only a vague measure she can discern), or perhaps simply greed.  She is disappointed with herself for not having the skill to distinguish them yet at this point.

           “My dear Sansa,” he begins, already edging toward her, and it is an endearment that sets her skin to tingling, the base of her spine slipping into a rigidity quite like a familiar armor.

           His hands light along her shoulders.  She wonders when his attentions and his affectations turned from fatherly to that of a lover.  It isn’t in the motions themselves, the touches, the caresses.  It’s in the way he looks at her all the while, the words he spews when he touches her so.

           And she has had enough of men playing to roles they haven’t the right to fill.

           “Did you interpret our last conversation as a warning?” he asks curiously, a false touch of concern lighting his voice.

           She knows better than to answer such a question truthfully.

           His fingers curl around her arms, drawing her closer to him.  “Oh Sansa, you must know I never meant it as such.”

           “I know very little, Lord Baelish, where it concerns you.”  She allows herself this small honesty.  Truth can sometimes tempt the best of them.

           The self-satisfied grin that tugs at his lips makes her quiver, though she tempers the reaction before he can register it.  “I’ve been rather transparent with my desires, Sansa, wouldn’t you say?”

           She only looks at him, unblinking.

           “As transparent as the King, I would wager.”

           Sansa’s eyes narrow instantly, her shoulders stiffening.

           Baelish keeps one hand curled tight around her elbow, anchoring her to him, his other lifting to trace her cheek.  “You’re much too smart to think you can play such a game under my nose without me catching wind of it.”

           She gulps, lips pursed, offering no rebuke, but no admission either.  Her skin feels hot – blistering and not her own. “I’m not playing at anything.”

           “Yes, perhaps that’s the tragedy of it,” he muses, a mockingly smooth finger edging the length of her jaw.  “Tell me, Sansa, how long did you let your bastard brother beg before you finally spread your legs for him?”            Sansa jerks back, but he holds her tight, far tighter than he’s ever dared to touch her before, and something flashes in his eyes that looks dangerously like possessiveness.  

“You will unhand me, Lord Baelish,” she grinds out.

           He only grips her tighter, bruisingly so, hand clutching at her jaw now, mouth hovering close to hers, a hiss seethed through his teeth.  “Or are you the one who does the begging?” he murmurs, eyes fixed to her mouth, brows angled down sharply in an anger she recognizes all too easily.

           Joffrey had that kind of anger.  Ramsay, too.

           “Not the sort of boy who gives away his toys.”

           “I said ‘unhand me’, sir.”  It’s a command now, a wolfish sort of thing snarled through grit teeth.

           “I wonder what it took to hear such begging,” he croons at her mouth, dark and promising, ignoring her protest.

           “If you want to keep that hand,” a voice says smoothly from behind them, jolting them apart, “then you’ll remove it from my sister.”

           Sansa whips her head to the far corner of her room, watching as Arya materializes from the shadows.

           Baelish clears his throat, backing from Sansa almost unconsciously, his hands blessedly free of her.

           “Arya, what are you doing here?” Sansa hisses at her, breathing heavily, hands curling at her sides until her nails press half-moons into her palms.

           Arya swings her steady gaze toward her, cocking a brow.  “Minding snakes, it seems.”

           Sansa bristles at the answer.

           Baelish collects himself easily, stepping toward Arya.  “My lady, if you would only – ”

           “I’m not your lady,” she answers swiftly, gaze cutting back to his.  “And neither is my sister.”

           He swallows, chin lifting.  “This was a private conversation you intruded on, Lady Arya.”

           “Yes, and all the more shame that it’s now made public.  But don’t let that stop you.  Please, do continue.”  Arya motions toward Sansa with a daring scorn.

           Baelish looks between the two.  Sansa never takes her eyes off her sister.

           “Arya, you need to leave.”

           Arya glares at her, but then she’s looking back at Baelish, taking a step, and then another, making her way smoothly toward him until she’s standing just a foot away, head cocking as she looks up at him.  “I only ever make threats I intend to follow through,” she tells him, dark grey eyes wide and unblinking, harrowing in their intensity.

           Baelish stares back at her, riveted.  His throat bobs uncertainly.

           Sansa sucks a sharp breath through her teeth.  “Arya.”

           And then the younger Stark is offering Baelish a mocking smile, a false comfort beneath her deadly gaze.  “My list isn’t so long that it can’t fit another name,”

           Baelish furrows his brows, uncomprehending, but she doesn’t wait for a response, stalking away from him to stand beside her sister.

           Several moments pass in silence, and then Baelish smooths his hands over his robe, clearing his throat.  “Well then,” he begins.

           “Well then,” Arya says almost smugly, hands linked behind her back.

           Baelish levels her with a steady stare, before looking up to Sansa.  That anger is back, brimming just beneath a still, composed surface.  Its sourness is no less visceral, even with her sister at her side, and Sansa thinks this must be how poison works – slow and unseen.

           “I bid you good evening, ladies,” he says in farewell, before stalking to the door, unlatching it, and slamming it behind him.

           Sansa takes a long, solid breath, hands finally uncurling at her sides. She glances down to Arya.  Her sister is staring up at her, lip curled, a sneer playing at her features.

           “You’re being reckless,” Sansa throws out on a harsh exhale, shaking with it, and shaking with more.

           Arya schools her face back to passiveness, making her way to the door as well.  “And you’re being stupid.”  She says it with no remorse, and Sansa didn’t think it’d hurt quite so much to hear the familiar words again after so many years.

           But Arya leaves without saying more, and Sansa’s word of thanks is lodged somewhere between her barren tongue and her clenched teeth, as sour as Baelish’s anger had been.

* * *

           “Littlefinger will make his move before long.  Arya’s seen to that,” Sansa huffs reluctantly, glancing toward her younger sister as they sit gathered in her solar.

           Jon sighs, leaning his elbows over his knees.  “We can’t afford this – not now.”

           Arya doesn’t look the slightest remorseful.  “He threatened Sansa.”

           Jon straightens at this.  

           “Arya,” Sansa hisses.  “That’s not what happened.”

           Arya lifts a brow her way.  “That’s exactly what happened, even if he didn’t say it in so many words.”

           Jon opens his mouth to press further, but then Arya is scoffing, arms crossing over her chest.  Her words still him.  “You leave yourself too open to threats, Sansa.  Too open… in other ways, as well.”  Arya slips a look of accusation toward Jon out of the corner of her eye.

           The bile is ripe on his tongue – sharp and pungent.  Just like the anger.

           “Arya, that’s enough,” he bites out warningly, purposely not looking at Sansa’s suddenly wet eyes, her jutting chin, her stiff, yet trembling hands bunched in her lap.

           Arya rolls incredulous eyes his way.  “You’re both fools.  You’re both foul, selfish fools,” she seethes.  Her arms tighten over her chest, her jaw locking tight, like collaring a wolf.  Like leashing anguish.  “And you’ll be the end of us.”

           “I wasn’t the one who threatened the Lord Protector of the Vale,” Sansa snaps meaningfully.

           Arya’s face hardens, her throat flexing.  “Should I have let you be, then?”  Her voice is impossibly soft.  “Should I have let him touch you?”

           A flare of possession streaks through Jon – white-hot and instant – but it’s dampened by the look upon Sansa’s face.  It’s a look he’s never seen before, all at once guilty and pleading and proud.

           “They’re our family,” Bran says from his quiet place beside the hearth, nearly forgotten in the sudden vitriol splashed across the room.

           Arya spares him a glare as well.  “I know that, Bran.  And that’s what makes it all the worse.”

           Jon clamps down on the spiteful rush that floods him.  She is his sister, after all, and gods, does he miss her. But this is not what he wanted. “Only the pack survives, Arya.  We have to – ”

           “Don’t you dare use Father’s words after fucking his daughter beneath this very roof,” she spits.

           The scrape of Sansa’s chair is jarringly loud in the sudden quiet, and Jon can do nothing but watch her stalk to the window, his knuckles white wear he grips his knees, his teeth sinking into his tongue as he bites down on his rebuke, the shame tart and instant and utterly unspeakable.

           (There can be no rebuke to truth though, he knows this.  Even when he wishes he didn’t.)

           It’s the first the nature of their relations have been brought to air – the first that exactly what it is they’re doing has been spoken of so clearly  And perhaps it isn’t the vehemence with which Arya says it that startles him to silence, or the crudeness in how she says it. Perhaps it’s just that it was said at all.

           The blaring reality of their sin laid out before them, in no uncertain terms.

           Arya digs the heel of her palm into her wet eyes, teeth gritting.

           Sansa stares stoically out the frost-lined window, taking a single, long breath in, and then exhaling just as slow.  Her jaw works beneath the flicker of candlelight.

           Jon looks away.

           “We’ll need Baelish,” Bran interrupts the silence

From her position along the window, Sansa’s shoulders stiffen, a look of wariness passing over her shoulder when she glances to Bran.

           Jon doesn’t like the taste that floods his mouth at the sight.

           “We’ll need his spies,” Bran corrects.

           Sansa rubs a worrying thumb into her opposite palm.  A sigh like he’s never heard from her passes through her lips then. She is an altogether different woman suddenly.  “Is there a difference?”  Her voice hardly wavers.

           Bran’s eyes shift to Arya.  “One face – many faces.”  

           Arya glances up at the words, her ire momentarily forgotten in place of cautious interest.

           Something of a smile tugs at Bran’s lips, but it’s barely-there and fleeting enough to make Jon question its presence entirely.  “Perhaps it’s not such a difference,” their brother muses.

           Jon thinks he should feel cold at the glint that passes through Arya’s gaze, but he can’t summon anything beyond a vague apprehension.

           Instead, he looks to Sansa.

           She does not look back.

* * *

           She leads Baelish to the godswood in the dead of night, and he doesn’t see the wolves circling until the mark of his own grave stops him stock still in the clearing.

“Sansa, please,” Baelish begs, knees sodden with muddied snow, a gleam of moonlight casting through the weirwood trees to land in slants upon his sweaty, pale face.  At his back, Needle stays pressed just between his third and fourth ribs, Arya’s wrist poised in shadow, her other arm held at her back, spine straight. She watches Sansa expectantly.

           At the gasp of her name from Baelish’s lips, Jon takes a purposeful step forward, lip curling, hands fisting at his sides.  “Don’t you even speak her name,” he threatens in a low growl.

           Bran’s hand at his elbow stays him.

           Arya flits slate-grey eyes up at him, narrowing, her lips pursed tightly.

           Jon shares a look with her, before he averts his gaze, a heated scoff leaving his lips.

           Brienne lights a tentative hand on Sansa’s shoulder. “My lady, you do not have to see this.”

           Through all this, Sansa has stayed resolutely still, a thrum of disquiet washing over her.  In her mind’s eye, she sees her mother.  She sees her father.  She sees a brilliant grey banner, direwolves in the wind.  She sees a house bloodied by betrayal.

           She sees the last song of the mockingbird – words for poison – and she remembers that she has learned the weight of such venom years ago.

           “But I do,” she answers Brienne, eyes already wet, throat already constricting, even as she nods to Arya.

           “Sansa – ”  Baelish ends her name on a cracked exhale, Needle sliding between his ribs with a quiet slickness.

           His mouth is red instantly, lungs flooding with blood.

           Sansa starts to shake.  She feels Jon’s hand at the base of her spine.

           “Don’t look away,” Bran says from his chair beside them –

           (Arya is wiping her blade clean before Baelish even hits the snow.)

           – “Father will know if you do.”

* * *

           Arya wears Baelish’s skin with an ease that quietly terrifies.

           Sansa watches the false-Baelish stride across the hall, calling Lord Royce’s name in a voice she still finds sets her skin to tingling.

           Sansa stares at the cover that is Littlefinger.

           A stranger’s eyes stare back, unfamiliar in their familiarity.  

           She had thought condemnation would look different on a face that wasn’t Arya’s.

           She knows now that she is wrong.

           “He’s not worth crying over,” Jon tells her the next night, when she’s busy unlacing his tunic, fingers trembling and frantic.  Something of sorrow lines his words.

           Sansa stills, looking up at him.  “I know.”

           His hand slips up her jaw, thumb brushing along her cheek so achingly slow that she suddenly feels the wetness along it.  “Then why are you?” he asks her, not unkindly.  It’s a whisper between them, an indiscernible secret let to air.

           “I’m not,” she bites out.

           But oh, she is –

           She is, she is, she is –

           “Sansa.”  Something breaks in her with how he says it.

           (Or perhaps it was always broken, and she’s only just now finding the pieces.)

           It’s a terrifying tangle of grief and relief that fills her at the image of Baelish’s face in the red-filtered moonlight, his pleading mouth forming her name so ardently she wants to strike him for it.  “I don’t regret it,” she admits on an exhale, her fingers slipping from Jon’s chest as she stumbles back a step.

           He follows her, doesn’t let her pull away.  He cradles her face in his hands, her tears running freely now.

           “I don’t regret it,” she mumbles, head shaking.  “I don’t regret it, I don’t – I…I don’t regret it, I – ”

           He silences her with a kiss, nothing of kindness to it, nothing of mercy.  He doesn’t give her mouth the chance to form any more words, least of all those.

           She’s back to unlacing his tunic, and she isn’t crying anymore.

           But the tangle has only knotted further.

           She doesn’t know anymore, what to regret in this life.

           Her hand meets his flesh.

           (She just doesn’t know anymore.)

* * *

           Daenerys razes the northern lands of the Crownlands, pushing toward Harrenhal, and what Sansa assumes will be even further toward the Westerlands.  She imagines she could take King’s Landing if she wanted, but perhaps vengeance urges her west first.  A thirst Daenerys must quench before she takes her crown. A kingslayer she must bring to heel before the whole of Westeros.  She must recognize by now that King’s Landing is not the seat of power it once was, not with more than half the population already fled.  If she wants the seven kingdoms to kneel, then she will have to bring the fight to them.  Shouting her claim in the middle of an empty throne room will not get her the subservience she craves and sitting the Iron Throne is not so meaningful without witnesses. So she holds her court at Dragonstone, and pushes west.

Jaime Lannister gives up Riverrun to Brynden and Edmure Tully when the dragon queen’s forces push too close for comfort.  He focuses on The Reach instead, halting their advance towards Casterly Rock.  The Lannisters face enemies on all sides from the rest of the Seven Kingdoms, even with having the largest contingent of men.

And yet, it’s still surprising when Jaime Lannister is the first to answer one of Jon’s many ravens calling for a peace summit.

(‘To fight the horde’, Jon had said.

‘To ensure peace amongst the kingdoms’, Sansa had urged him instead, a hand squeezing his wrist, and she watched as the huff of frustration blew from his lips.

Still, he heeded her advice, dipping his quill to the parchment and adopting her calculated words in his missives.)

Jon tosses a scroll to her desk, raking a hand through his curls.  “He says he’ll come only if he’s granted an audience with the Lady of Winterfell,” he spits almost mockingly, eyes boring into the parchment as it lays innocently atop her ledgers.

Sansa’s brows furrow, fine-boned fingers picking up the scroll to peruse it herself.  She licks her lips, looking up at Jon from her seat.  “He’ll want to know about Cersei.”

“You had nothing to do with that.”

“Not in his eyes, I imagine.”

Jon rests his knuckles along the wood of her desk, leaning over it.  “I will kill him before he lays a hand on you.”

Sansa takes a deep breath, easing back in her chair. His quiet, violent outburst settles something low in her gut like spitting coals.  “And would you have me turn him away over this?  When he commands the largest force in Westoros – the kind of numbers we’ll need if we want to defeat the dead?”

He doesn’t answer her.  But he doesn’t need to.

Sansa sighs, shaking her head.  “We can’t win this without allies, you said it yourself.”

Jon tears his hands away from the desk, stalking across the length of her solar, staring darkly at the wall, a hand gliding over his mouth.  He stalks back along the stones, stopping at her desk again.  “I don’t like it.”

The indignation is easy, ripe in her throat. “It’s not your choice.”

His eyes flash, his hands curling into fists at his sides.  “Aye,” he bites out.  “It’s not.”

It doesn’t sound like a surrender or an agreement, but Sansa hasn’t the patience to argue such a point.  “Then the Lady of Winterfell accepts.  You can tell him as such when you pen your answer.”  She links her fingers atop her lap, lips pursed.

Jon clenches his jaw, chest heaving just the once – like trying to rein something in.  But then he’s nodding his farewell, turning from her, throwing the door to her solar open so harshly that Brienne braces a hand reflexively to Oathkeeper, glancing in on her lady as the King sweeps past.

Sansa scowls at his retreating form, fingers curling into a knot in her lap.

* * *

           He thinks maybe the right words will come to him at the tip of a sword.  They usually do, and he’s never been much good without one.  So when he invites Arya to a spar at the far end of the eastern courtyard, well enough out of earshot of any passersby, he doesn’t waste time.

           “Sansa misses you.”  He sees the moment the smirk slips from her mouth.  

           She’d been enjoying the spar, he can tell, and while some part of him aches that he’s the one to shatter that moment, to temper that glee, a larger part of him knows how to recognize the temporary and the fleeting at this point.

           Arya doesn’t blunt her swipes, Needle clacking against Longclaw with a sharp ringing.  “I doubt that very much.”

           Jon steps into the parry, teeth gritting.  “I know why you’ve been distant but – ”

           “If you know, then it shouldn’t be so hard to understand.”  Her swing lands dangerously close to his cheek.

           Jon stumbles back, breath breaking from him with a jolt, a flush of anger heating him.  “She’s your sister.  Shouldn’t that be enough?”

           Arya straightens, a hand held primly at her back, a single brow arched.  “It wasn’t enough for you, was it?  To have her as a sister?”  She doesn’t hide the contempt now.

           Jon huffs his frustration, swinging low, teeth bared when he meets her blade for blade.  “Whatever I’ve done, whatever I’ve – ”  He swallows his words behind a grunt.  They meet in a clash, eyes locked.  “I won’t apologize for what I want.  Not even to you.”

           Arya’s eyes wet instantly, even while they harden.  She shouts as she shoves him back.  “You should have known better!  You should have – she should have – ”  She swings again, too wide, staggering back when he parries her almost effortlessly.  “It’s like I don’t even know you anymore!”  

           He imagines she hadn’t meant for her voice to break on that one, and he understands why she covers it with a snarl, another lunge, but he’s finding it harder and harder to brace against her vehemence.

           Jon knocks her back, bracing his boots in the dirt to steady himself.  His chest heaves, the breaths coming ragged and full.  “You’ve no idea what she’s been through.”

           Arya narrows her eyes at him, twirling Needle into an overhold.  “The people talk, Jon.  I know what Ramsay – ”

           “I’m not just talking about what Ramsay did to her!” he bellows, stilling her instantly.  His gut churns at the name, even still, even now when he bears the marks of that bastard’s ruin on his scarred knuckles, even when he carries him with him beneath his skin (and oh, how he would scar worse if it meant he could mar him again and again and – )

           Jon closes his eyes, taking a deep breath as he swallows back the rage.

           Because Ramsay was not all of it.

           “What do you mean?”  Arya is standing eerily still, hair slightly disheveled, gloved hand curling around Needle’s hilt.

           Jon opens his eyes.  

           (Just a stupid, little girl, Sansa had muttered in a voice so scathing he knew he’d never know the whole of it.

           She doesn’t like mirrors, he finds.  And this, perhaps, makes him saddest of all.)

           “I meant down in King’s Landing.”

           Arya doesn’t respond, but Needle lowers minutely.  Jon takes it as a motion to continue.

           Something strikes him then, instant and resounding.  “Could you have done it?”

           Her brows sharpen down in her confusion.  “What?”

           Jon licks his lips, continuing.  “Could you have held your tongue in the midst of those who killed Father, knowing it would be your head next?”

           Arya’s chest puffs out, her hiss high and biting.  “I would have died to avenge Father.”

           “And could you have held it knowing that if not, it would be your mother next? Your brother?  Your sister?”

           Arya stops, throat flexing beneath her tight swallow.

           Jon takes a step closer, Longclaw still at the ready.  “Could you have taken the beatings, the humiliation, the constant reminder of your helplessness, your uselessness?  Could you have listened day after day to the threats on your family?  Could you have done nothing, because to do more meant worse than death for those you loved?”  He’s panting by now, quaking in his own skin, desperate, wretched, lungs full with his woe. He can see her trembling from where he stands.  Longclaw tips to the ground, forgotten.  “Do you know how she cried for you?”

           Arya turns her head away, eyes riveted to the stone wall.  The tears are more apparent now, though they never fall. Her jaw works beneath her tight words. “I never asked her to.”

           “Aye,” Jon says, nodding, voice cracking.  “Sansa did a lot of things for us we never asked her to.”

           She looks back at him then, her face fierce, a shadow of distress glancing through her eyes, and then gone.  She blinks back the wetness.  “I don’t know what she’s been through, no.  Not truly. Not entirely.”  She tilts her chin up, her voice steady.  “But neither does she know what I’ve been through.”

           And there it is.

           The reminder of how he’s failed.

           Jon crumbles beneath the weight of such guilt, his head lowering, and he digs the knuckles of his free hand into his eye socket, clearing his throat when he looks back at her and his hand comes away salt-tinged.  “I know.  And I’m sorry, Arya, I’m so – ”  His breath catches, and he has to choke back the break, start again.  “I’m sorry I couldn’t – ”

           “I’m not saying it because I blame you.”  Arya sighs, glancing away to the wall once more.  It seems a comfort.  “I’m not saying it because I blame her either.  It just… it just is.”

           “Would you wish it upon her?  What you went through?”  He asks it softly, plaintively.  

           She considers him a moment, eyes a hauntingly familiar grey.

           (How like his sister he’s always been – and how not.)

           “No,” she finally answers, Needle lowering to her side entirely, the crinkle of her glove resounding in the blaring quiet.

           “I think she feels much the same,” he offers her, stepping closer, until he is standing right before her, until he can reach a gloved hand up to brush a lone strand of hair behind her ear.

           Arya’s eyes flutter shut at the motion, leaning into the touch unconsciously. Her lashes glisten with the unshed tears.

           Jon’s hand retreats, a long-forgotten fondness creeping out between his ribs.  He waits until her eyes shift open once more.  He waits until she’s looking at him, really looking at him.  He waits until he knows she’s ready to listen.

           “Sansa isn’t weak,” he tells her, voice steady.  “She’s just strong in ways you’ve never had to be.”

           Arya stares up at him, and she is all at once exactly the sister he left, and yet nothing like her at all.

           He wants to reach for her once more, but something tells him not to.  Something tells him they’re not there yet.

           Arya flits her gaze to the side, a heavy sigh leaving her.  She wipes at her eyes, clearing her throat.  She sheaths Needle without further word, stepping back from him.  “I’m not okay with what you two are doing,” she says finally, voice clear of tears. She looks back up at him and her eyes are dry.

           Jon shakes his head.  “I’m not asking you to be.”  It’s easy to be unapologetic.  It’s easy now that he recognizes how little condemnation means to him.  Not with this.

           Not with her.

           (He will never be sorry for that.)

           “But,” Arya starts, swallows, starts again.  “But I hear you.”

           Jon stares at her, blinking swiftly.

           “I hear you,” she says again, and then she’s turning and stalking away, their spar forgotten.

           He doesn’t think they’d have ended in anything but a stalemate anyway, but he hopes.

           He hopes.

* * *

{The hearth spits another log to cinders before them, and she thinks he means to keep this damn silence always, until, “Because she is needed.”

Sansa nearly scoffs, her throat catching on the noise.  She blinks the wetness from her eyes.  “We never needed her,” she says on a harsh exhale.

           “We do,” Bran counters, no malice in the correction, no reprimand.

           “We needed Jon,” she manages through clenched teeth, fingers curling over her armrests like talons.  She wants to strike him – her little brother.  She wants to claw those desolate white eyes out and find the monster beneath – the monster that did this to them.  “We still do,” she grinds out.  It almost seems a pointless grief now.

           Bran gives her a long moment of silence, eyes frustratingly vacant.  “There can be no Jon without Daenerys.”}

[kweebtrash]

Just Say Goodnight and Go (M)

Messy Chapter 7

Pairing(s): OC X Johnny

Genre: College AU, Fuckboy AU, Smut, The fluff chapter TM

Summary: Fuckboys are basically good for one thing. You hit it and quit it- except when his voice draws you in, his body keeps you there, and dumb ass feelings linger making things particularly messy.

Warnings: alcohol, night terrors/ panic attacks, minimal talk about assault. 

Features: body worship, choking/breathing denial, talk about oral fixation, thigh high kink, a bunch of makeout sessions, a little bit of a handjob, still exploring the daddy kink a bit, overstretching, rough sex and semi-soft sex, really bad drunk decisions.

Word Count: around 17.6k

A/N: ‘they’ and ‘she’ are used interchangeably on purpose. I didn’t exactly hit 20k like I thought but I was damn close lol. Note: In case you don’t know Rilakkuma is a Japanese character (like Hello Kitty) but from the brand San-X. This chapter has got a bunch of fluff in it, but ya’ll know fluff aint my usual thing that I write about. So tell me if it was good or bad please.

Messy Masterlist    Buy me a Ko-Fi    Other Stories

“What do people like….do on dates?”

“Eri, what the hell kind of question is that? You act like you never been on one before.” Quinn said before squinting in the mirror to viciously measure if their eyeliner wings were even.

“Like i mean...i have but also i'm antisocial and some if the best times i've had with people were just like hanging out and doing nothing. Like Yuta and i just lay around and watch anime-”

“While he fingers you.”

“Lucas and I play video games.”

“Until his attention span goes to eating you out.”

I huffed. “Listen…”

“You went out on dates with Jungwoo, didn't you?”

“Yeah but we would like go to parks during the spring and walk around, or he'd follow me around the mall and blush if I so much as mentioned going to look at underwear in a store. We went to an aquarium solely because i just wanted to hear him say the word in his adorable accent all day. But those are things that I did when like…” i sighed and set my eyeshadow brush down. “When I was in love.”

“And you're not in love with Johnny?”

“Johnny's a fuckboy. You really think he'd hold my hand and push me on a swing set at the park? Please. He's gonna take one look at these thigh highs and want to fuck as soon as we start this so called date and that's a-ok with me.”

“Eri, you're a bad liar.”

“You're the one who suggested going on a stupid date with Jaehyun! What do you two do all the time when you hang out anyway, hmm?”

Quinn squinted again, glaring at their uneven ink line before handing the eyeliner pen to me. “Fix itttttttt.” they whined. I sighed and grabbed a makeup wipe to try and clean up some of the unevenness before filling it out with the ink again. “But we honestly fuck a lot. Like a lot a lot. He heard about Taeil helping me study and wanted to help too but instead of being NICE he fingered me and wouldn't let me cum until i got an answer right-which is very hard when his stupid hot long fingers are digging inside you. Then one time I decided to cook for him, because i'm perfect wifey material and he lasted a whole minute of helping me in the kitchen before he was grabbing at my ass.”

“Great, a bigger slut. So why the hell did you come up with this boba date idea in the first place?!” I painted on the small wings in short strokes, connecting it to the already thickened lined that covered Quinn's lashline.

They shrugged, which made me purse my lips and glare down at them for moving. “I don't know. I basically said, Jaehyun you're taking me to get Boba and then I thought it'd be nice for you to come along because you’re maybe-kinda- sorta-my security blanket. Then i realized i asked him out on a date without meaning for it to sound like a date and then i gay panicked and asked you to come but that only made it a DOUBLE DATE and then i had to pretend that everything was natural and I-”

“Quinn. I should stab you in the eye with this pen.”

“I CANT HELP IT! Sometimes he's really stupid and cute and i hate his fuckin’ perfect teeth and perfect smile and those STUPID dimples. I want to punch his face but also kiss him endlessly. I especially hate it when he's like...nice and not a complete asshole because it just makes me want to be around him more!” They sighed.

I finished correcting the wing on their other eye and plopped back down in my desk chair. “I know what you mean...after the party Johnny and I spent the entire night together and it was definitely a journey. I found out things about him that i never could even imagine happening to someone like him. And it just...it made me sad. All i wanted to do was see him happy. I wanted to make him happy.”

“What do you mean? What happened to him?”

“I shouldn't tell you…” i whispered.

“Eri, we're best friends.”

“Yeah but...he's starting to trust me and I don't want to mess that up.”

“I wouldn't ever tell anyone. You know that.”

I fidgeted in my seat as i felt my morals be compromised a bit. Quinn was my best friend that I told practically everything to but Johnny was my...fuckbuddy who had gone through enough for a lifetime and needed someone who would be there for him. I still yearned to be that someone and wanted to solidify my place as a friend he could count on. I knew Quinn wouldn't tell a soul so I was sure the secret was safe but it still made me feel a bit uneasy. “I...i...don't know…”

“Was it about that chick at the party? The like weird looking one that was all over him?”

I nodded then grabbed their little hands, squeezing them tight. “Just swear on our friendship you won't ever say anything. Not even to Jae.”

“I swear.”

“Ok...and don't think or treat of him any different. Go on hating him like normal. It's ok.”

“Yes, Eri, I will. I swear.”

“She...that girl...assaulted him while he was coming down from a bad high and was sick. And you know, he's a big dude. He's tall and muscular and shit- everyone would think he'd be able to fight her off but he can only remember bits and pieces because he was so messed up. Then he described to me how he felt like...how he felt so numb and helpless. It was hard for him…”

“Eri, the same has happened to me. Why would you think I would tell anyone about this?”

“I know,” i practically whimpered. “I didn't mean it like that. I just...i kinda care about him now. I want to be there for him but without making stuff too complicated. I honestly just think he needs someone he can rely on.”

“But then you fell in love with him.”

“I'm going to need you and Doyoung to stop saying that. Are you two conspiring against me?”

“It's just a bit obvious to people that aren't only here to fuck you.” Quinn kissed me gently and returned my little hand squeeze. “It's good that you're there for him. He needs it. I wish we could've been friends sooner so you would've been there for me. You have a good ability to be a pillar of strength for people. But don't let that consume you either. He needs to get through it on his own too.”

“I know. I want him to but this is where the stubborn fuck boy part still remains and makes me want to throw his giant ass across the room.”

“Yeah, he's still stupid about a lot of things but any step towards healing is progress.”

I pouted and gave myself another glance in the mirror before adding more smokiness to my outer crease. “Yeah, I know. It's still fresh though so I can't rush him. I just need to make sure it doesn't get too messy.”

“And also make sure he somehow becomes your boyfriend?”

“WILL YOU CUT THAT OUT?! WHY DON'T YOU GO BE JAE'S BOYFRIEND, YA LIL TURD.”

“Eww no. I don't want to be near his stupid abs and dimples and perfect teeth and soft hair all day. Absolutely not.”

We both glared at each other for a moment. Our weak facades to our feelings were no match for one another and we couldread each other like open books. Things were getting to be a little bit too serious for the both of us and I may have admitted it to myself during my talk with Doyoung but there was no way in hell that I was ever going to say that I had feelings for Johnny out loud. I hoped that I would eventually get over him enough to just keep things casual. I was sure my fear of love was the perfect blockade for that. Nothing could get past that impenetrable wall. So i felt safe for now. Quinn nudged me, breaking our glaring contest and making us both laugh.

“How did we end up like this?” I asked.

“Like what? Stringing along a bunch of hot guys waiting to do whatever we want them to do? Pure talent. We're amazing. And i am making them pay for the boba.”

“Well duh. If they don't we can just throw them out and solidify our relationship with Lucas. I mean he has everything they have anyway: big dick, deep voice, nice lips, can reach things on the top shelf. It's all we need.” I added a final touch of setting spray and wiped at the powder fallout that covered the top of my boobs. “Oh, by the way, do I look ok in this?”

I stood up so Quinn could see my black ensemble of a Simple Plan t-shirt I had since I was 15, a suspender skirt, black thigh highs and matching high-top converses. They squinted and looked me up and down, even making me turn for them. “It's okay.” They stated simply.

“Ok? What do you mean ok? Do I look fat or something?”

“No it's just...i mean it's very you.”

“What do you mean by that?” I asked.

“Like very...high school emo. But your hair and makeup is really cute and he'll like the thigh highs. What are you wearing underneath?”

“Underneath?” I hadn't given much thought to my underwear. “I just picked whatever was in my drawer.”

“Well do you want to entice him a bit?”

I shrugged. “I guess a little. Really make this date worthwhile since i'm sure he's gonna be a jerk about the whole thing. I’m not even sure why he agreed to go.”

“Duh,” Quinn said. “Because he likes you. If he isn't a shitty date then you can give him a little something. And if he is, don't show him at all. I have a cute white lace set you'd look good in. You should wear that.”

“Wear lingerie the entire time? That underwire is gonna kill me.”

“You know I hate bras as much as you do but it'll be cute. Trust me.” Quinn got up from my bed and went over to their room leaving me to follow. When they pulled out the set from their drawer I almost couldn't believe how small it was.

“Uh...you want me to put all of my ass in that?”

“Didn't you say he likes your butt? With this and the thigh highs you can ask him to eat you out and i bet he finally would.”

“Oh...right.” I took the small underwear and bra and started to change into them, not bothering to bring up his previous trauma surrounding oral. It was just easier not going into more into detail about it. I slithered out of my old underwear and into the lace panties which seemed to morph into a thong between my ass cheeks. I adjusted myself over and over in the bra, trying to stuff myself into the seemingly small cups. “Should I really look this desperate? I mean we've fucked like half a dozen times before.”

“It's not desperate! Just trust me. Do that whole femdom thing you do and feel sexy. It may make you feel less nervous if you just pretend you have confidence.”

“Pfft, i doubt it.” I pulled my shirt back over my head, practically feeling my tits at my throat. I stepped over to Quinn's full length mirror and adjusted myself over and over again. Feigning confidence I could do sometimes but alcohol was a lot more helpful with that.

“Will you stop fussing? You're making me more nervous than I already am. We have to be cool sluts not….stupid schoolgirls!” Quinn hissed.

“Yeah, well….i am a stupid schoolgirl and I hate it! I don't want it Quinn!”

“It's just boba! We got this! It's not like-” Suddenly we heard three sharp raps against our door. Our mouths snapped shut and panic washed over us. We looked at each other as if we didn't know what to do. “You do it.” They whispered.

“No, no! You! It was your idea that got us into this mess in the first place!” I planted my hands on their back and forced then towards the door. “Go!”

“You come with me! What are you gonna do?Just stay in here?!”

“Yes! And maybe die alone so i don't have to be embarrassed!” A few more knocks came again and Quinn and I fussed with our hair, our clothes, checking our breaths and if we had things in our teeth. Eventually we stood in front of the door, squaring our shoulders and pretending like everything was totally fine. I was the one who set my hand on the door handle, swinging it open to see my worst nightmare.

The four of us stared at one another like lost children, wide eyed and scared. It was so strange seeing them dressed up that it was like a shock to the system. I was used to the Johnny in sweatpants or basketball shorts and hoodies but now he was...God, he was stunning. Everything; from his hair, his lips, his eyes behind the round wire frames he wore, and his incredibly perfect long legs trapped in his torn up skinny jeans. I hated to admit it-absolutely loathed it- but he looked like complete boyfriend material; so soft and cozy yet still oozing sexiness and a little bit of mystery. I especially loved the leather jacket that hung over him. It made me want to throw myself into his arms and get lost in a sea of his kisses. My heart was fluttering, pathetically so, and it was almost impossible to breathe.

I saw his eyes travel up and down my body, stopping at certain places he wanted to linger a bit longer on. I waited nervously for him to say something, anything at all. He seemed to be stuck, his eyes fluctuating through thought processes and possible scenarios. I nibbled at my lip and casually looked over and Quinn and Jae. Jae looked quite handsome himself; a soft sweet rendition of a guy i didn't quite like and was surprised to see like this. He looked comfy in his hoodie and jacket combo. A warm beanie was perched on his head and his light wash jeans were a perfect compliment. His dimples were on full display along with his perfect teeth Quinn so happily gushed about. I could see them already swooning over him, and probably thinking of a way to get into his pants.

“You look,” My eyes cut back to Johnny as I heard his deep voice finally. “You look um...c-cute.” The olive tone of his skin flared with peachy pinks as soon as that word left his lips.

Cute.

This fuckboy thought I was cute. My heart was in my shoes, a melted puddle of teenage passion and urgency for romance. I giggled nervously and stared down at our feet, noticing his checkered vans and my black converses. “U-um...thank you. I think you look really handsome.” I tucked a stray hair back and gazed up at him. His expression was nothing short of flustered and he cleared his throat to break up the awkwardness.

“Are we just gonna stand here looking like idiots or are we gonna go? I need coffee.” He said.

Jaehyun broke from leaning against the doorframe and boldly took Quinn's hand. “Yeah, let's go. Johnny, you driving or am i?”

Johnny tossed his keys over to Jae who caught them with his free hand. “I'll just drive when we come back.”

Jae and Quinn started heading downstairs, leaving me to rush to get my purse and lock the door behind me. The minuscule walk down to the parking lot of the apartment complex was enough to keep the awkward silence between Johnny and I. I had no idea what I should say or if we should even strike up a conversation at all. I realized that i really didn't know much about him other than his traumatic past and insecurities surrounding it. It seemed trivial but even something like learning his favorite color was starting to become appealing to me. “So…”

He looked back at me from midway down the steps. “So?”

“Boba, huh?” I wish i couldn't speak.

“Yes? Boba?” He seemed just as confused as I was and i rushed to sprint the rest of the way to the car. It didn't take him long to catch up and we were in the back seat and on our way in practically seconds. I kept to my side of the seat against the door, leaving a gaping space between us. Quinn and Jae seemed lost in their own conversation that seemed as natural as the moon controlling the tides. I almost envied them. When the hell did they get so buddy buddy? I briefly looked over at Johnny who seemed to be more interested in gazing out the window then having any interaction with me. I shifted uncomfortably and slid one leg over the other. I adjusted my skirt a bit, trying to make sure I remained decent but it was just a little too short even for me.

I thought I felt Johnny's eyes on me but when i turned to glance at him, he was back to being distracted by the scenery outside his eyes. I checked my phone, trying to use it as a way to ignore my self deprecating and nervous thoughts as well as to make the time go by. It wasn't until Jae cut a harsh turn that I was sent flying from my sacred spot and into Johnny.

“Dude, chill with that!” Johnny reprimanded.

“My bad! Stupid GPS said it at the last second!” Jae replied.

I tried squirming away from Johnny but Jae's lead foot on the gas pedal was making it harder to adjust myself. I felt Johnny's hand grip at my waist almost as if he wanted to keep me close to him. “You okay?” He said in a hushed tone.

I nodded and tried not to look at the warm hazel of his eyes. “I guess your roommate is fuckin’ speed racer.”

“Yeah, he's not the best driver. He only got his license last year.”

I sat up, finally able to regain my balance when Jae's speeding evened out. I inched myself away from Johnny but found his strength keeping me plastered to him. His arm shifted from my waist to around my shoulders, leaving plenty of opportunity for my head to rest on his chest. I looked up at him but he still avoided me at all cost. Tentatively, i laid against him. I could hear the quick beats of his heart and couldn't help but wonder if he was nervous too.

What did we have to be nervous about? Getting to actually know each other? Hadn't we done that? Did he even want to learn about me? I guess it would be better to just keep it about sex even with him confiding in me. It would add layers to our fun and could attribute more to the fun we had in our fuck buddy relationship. But my heart remained in a place of wishful thinking and i was pleading for it to stop fucking with my rationality.

I tried to focus on the physicality of it all instead and I was trying to convince myself that a simple hookup was the main goal for today. Get good food, good Boba, and good dick. That would be all. Maybe the date (or fake date, whatever you wanted to call it) wouldn't last long and I could just go home and curl up in my room and stuff all my feelings away under lock and key. I sighed and pulled myself away from being stuck in my brain for a moment. I happened to notice the woodsy notes of his cologne while my head remained tucked under his chin. I craned my lips up to his neck, giving his warm skin a sheepish peck. The scent was of course stronger here and almost sent my head spinning.

Johnny finally looked at me for longer than a few seconds but he didn't say anything at first. He returned my neck kiss with a small press to my lips, giving my shoulder a small squeeze. I decided to speak and hoped that I wouldn't retreat back to my state of being a bumbling idiot. “You smell good.” Well….i could have definitely said something worse.

He chuckled lowly. “Yeah? You like it?” He kissed me again and my hand trailed upwards to cup his face. I simply nodded and closed my eyes, preferring to get lost in him than back in my own thoughts and feelings. I felt his long fingers fall to my knee, trailing higher and barely grazing over the top of my thigh highs where he stopped suddenly. There was tension within him now and i swore I could almost hear a low growl fall on my tongue. “Eri.” He said in a voice so stern my thighs clenched together in response.

“Yes?” I asked, rather innocently.

“You...you wore this on purpose, didn't you?”

“I have no idea what you're talking about.” I played innocently.

He sat back and scoffed, an unsurprised look on his face. I covered my mouth in an attempt to hide my giggle. “You're gonna get your little ass beat.” He whispered.

“Is that a threat or a promise, daddy?” I teased. He nudged me instantly, wide eyed and afraid that Jae or Quinn had heard me.

“Shut up!”

I giggled again turning into full blown laughter at his embarrassment. It was kind of cute to tease him like that even though during the thick of it I would be the more embarrassed one. Quinn turned around then, curious as ever. “What are you laughing at?”

Johnny and I both stiffened up as if we were being scolded in the back seat. My laugh died down a bit and I was able to finally talk. “N-nothing!” I squeaked.

Johnny fussed with his glasses and nervously pushed back his hair, not even acknowledging Quinn. They squinted, judging us and still wondering what had made me laugh. They didn't get to pry any further as Jae pulled into the parking lot of the small cafe. Johnny was the first to get out, not even bothering to wait for us. He just stuffed his hands in his coat pockets and headed towards the cafe door. I pouted, annoyed that he didn't even have the courtesy to wait for us. Jae was the one that held the door open for Quinn and I, leaving me to scowl at Johnny. He ignored me and headed towards the line, towering over the few people ahead of him. I stood by his side, looking over the menu, while Jae and Quinn joined the line behind us. 

As I was debating over Rosehip or Lavender flavors I felt a brush against my hand. I thought it may have been an accident but suddenly Johnny’s pinky was curled around mine. I glanced down, making sure I wasn't imagining it and was pleasantly surprised. I smiled for a second until I heard Jae whisper a teasing, “gayyyyy” while Quinn poked at my side. I swatted their hand away and shot both of them a glare which only made Quinn giggle again. The line moved then and Johnny and I stepped forward. He finally spoke to me. 

“Do you know what you want?”

“i can't decide between the Lavender or Rosehip one. Both are yummy. Maybe Rosehip and Strawberry? Wait, no, Lavender Vanilla.”

He crinkled his nose in disgust at my flavor choices. “Well, figure it out. We're next.”

“Hush! I know that!” I pouted. He moved up again and discarded my pinky in favor of grabbing his wallet out of his pocket. He ordered a coffee flavor then looked at me.

“Go.”

“Oh, right...uh...” I still had no idea what I wanted and panicked as I felt like I was holding up the line.

“Just order.” I shuffled my weight on either foot while finally deciding on the Rosehip Strawberry with bursting bubbles. I watched as he paid for us then stepped off to the side to wait for the drinks to be completed. “Wanna get a table?”

I nodded. “U-um...thanks for the…”

He looked at me for awhile to the point where I got a bit uncomfortable before kissing me on the cheek. “It's whatever. Go sit down.”

I touched the warm spot of my cheek where his lips had been and scurried away trying not to show my giddiness. Why was I acting so stupid over him? I plopped down at a table, sighing to myself as the others ordered and waited for the drinks. It was only a few more minutes before Johnny joined me, sliding the cup and big straw my way. We stood quiet as we stabbed our straws into the plastic, sipping slowly and glancing at our phones. I didn't know how to talk to him about normal stuff really and was sure I was going to continuously make a fool out of myself.

“So….what's your favorite color?”

He looked at me questioningly. “What?”

“Your favorite color...sorry, i'm just trying to make conversation.”

“Oh...blue. What's yours? Black?” He chuckled then took a sip of his tea.

“Pastel pink.”

He choked a bit then chewed through the pearls. “Wait, seriously?”

“Yes, why is that hard to believe? I happen to be a multifaceted person that likes a bunch of things. I like cute things, video games, anime, comics, a whole bunch of nerd crap. I'm not just a stereotype.”

“Well, do you still think I'm a stereotype?”

I sucked in air through my teeth before propping my chin in the palm of my hand. “Sometimes you can be. You're stubborn and hard headed and a jerk most of the time but sometimes you can be….cute.” I diverted my attention to my drink again, hoping that my compliment didn't make things more awkward.

“What's so cute about me?” He asked. His eyes were focused right on me now as if he truly wanted to know.

“Oh well...physically of personality wise?”

“You tell me, princess.”

I pouted at my title. I guess he was returning my tease from earlier. “Well, i like that you trust me. I like that you're willing to try things with me. I think your photography is nice and i’m glad you have a passion. I think that it's cute when you spoon me or hold my pinky like you do.”

His face brightened to a heavy rose color and he straightened up as soon as Jae and Quinn came to the table. Jae tossed the car keys onto the table and sat down beside Quinn, rather than across from one another like Johnny and I were. They barely seemed to pay attention to us or their drinks and instead got wrapped up in their own little world full of intense kisses. Johnny and I face palmed at the same time.

“Were in public.” I groaned. “Cut it out.”

“Don't ruin our fun just because you two are weird and awkward.” Jae said.

“If ya'll were just gonna make out why did we even come out here? I could've stayed home.” Johnny interjected.

“I still wanted bubble tea. And we can get food later. I'm just a bit preoccupied now.” Quinn said.

I rolled my eyes and diverted my attention back to my phone which was a better sight than our best friends sucking the soul out of one another.

Im ready to die why are they like this

I texted Johnny.

💕💕Big Dick Daddy💕💕: we should just ditch them tbh

Omg, we cant. They rode with us. How would they get back?

💕💕Big Dick Daddy💕💕: who cares lmao

💕💕Big Dick Daddy💕💕: they can figure it out later

Be nice. Theyre still our friends

But would you care if I got some food after this? Im starving

💕💕Big Dick Daddy💕💕: fuck yeah. Where do you wanna go babe?

I smiled and looked up at him. He glanced up at me and returned my smile before nodding back at his phone, waiting for me to answer. Somehow texting made the both of us more comfortable than talking face to face. Blame it on on our generations addiction to technology or rather our crippling social anxiety.

Not to be weeb trash but there’s a japanese book store around here and it’s over by a bakery and a restaurant. I go there all the time. They have the best fried chicken

💕💕Big Dick Daddy💕💕: lets do it then

💕💕Big Dick Daddy💕💕: btw i watched naruto so i know anime

I couldn’t help the snort that got coupled with my laughter. I covered my mouth when i noticed the gross sound which made Johnny laugh too. 

Oh my god, stop right there. I can’t believe you just said that!!!

💕💕Big Dick Daddy💕💕: I still remember like half of the opening songs

💕💕Big Dick Daddy💕💕: dont make me serenade you

There is nothing more I want in this world than you to sing fighting dreamers while squawking like a parrot

Literally nothing would turn me on more johnathan

💕💕Big Dick Daddy💕💕: lol, bet. You’re gonna get just that tonight

💕💕Big Dick Daddy💕💕: also you know my name is just john right lol

Not anymore. You’re forever johnathan

😂😂😂😂😂

Johnathan’s cute. I like johnathan

💕💕Big Dick Daddy💕💕:  i like johnny. I have like 4 different names and thats the least fucking complicated one

I know what you mean, i have too many names too and I hate all of them.

💕💕Big Dick Daddy💕💕: there’s more than just Eri?

Way more unfortunately. My 1st name has 12 letters in it

💕💕Big Dick Daddy💕💕: wtf lol

💕💕Big Dick Daddy💕💕: what is it?

Never telling. Ever. its a dead name to me. Im just eri

💕💕Big Dick Daddy💕💕: boooo ur no fun

💕💕Big Dick Daddy💕💕: i’ll tell you my korean name if you tell me your full name

Absolutely not. If i tell you i’ll have to kill you. Thats the rule

💕💕Big Dick Daddy💕💕: does quinn know it?

Don’t bring them into this. Quinn knows a lot of things about me that must never be spoken of

💕💕Big Dick Daddy💕💕: ahh so you ARE a serial killer then

Shhhhhhh dont let anyone know.

💕💕Big Dick Daddy💕💕: i dont think i can hide the fact that youre a serial killer eri lol

I can hide you

💕💕Big Dick Daddy💕💕: why do I have a weird feeling that was your attempt at flirting with me

Please ignore me i dont know how to have actual normal conversations

💕💕Big Dick Daddy💕💕: apparently we can only have them about traumatic experiences and kinks

Thats basically the basis of a successful relationship duh

💕💕Big Dick Daddy💕💕: relationship?

You know what i mean

💕💕Big Dick Daddy💕💕: do i?

I looked up at him as he was casually sipping and waiting for my response. Before i could say something or even think of what to say, the chair screeched back and Quinn stood up suddenly. “I'm gonna go to the bathroom, i'll be right back.” They announced.

I shrugged. “Oh...alright. We'll be here.” I watched them walk off towards the restrooms in the back of the cafe and saw that Jae was doing the same.

“I gotta piss too..” He left then too, following Quinn in a half jog, and i wanted to scream. Really? Right now? Right in front of my boba? I rolled my eyes and sighed.

“They're going to go fuck.” I said, when he was out of ear shot.

Johnny looked back at the direction of the bathrooms then back at me. “Time to get food then.” He stood up and grabbed the keys from the center of the table. “Come on.”

“Wait, no we really shouldn't!” I protested. “I'd feel bad if we left them here.”

“Do you feel bad that they ditched us to fuck in the bathroom?”

“Well….maybe not so much.”

“Than come on.”

I grabbed my drink and followed after Johnny as he headed back to the car. We got in and I directed him to the bookstore, our conversation still at a minimum. After we arrived, he resumed holding my pinky and following me as i strung him along to look at stationery and the large collection of manga on the upper floor. I wanted to buy everything and practically cried when I saw my fave series or even a figure that i was desperate to have. Johnny seemed to get a kick out of every time I geeked out and listened patiently when I explained something to him like an overly excited teenager. He even told me about some of the anime’s he used to watch as a kid, a few we had in common.

I took him down another row of filled shelves looking for a specific title I had in mind. This section was only filled with the Japanese prints making Johnny question my intentions. "You can't read Japanese. Don't they have English ones?"

"Mhm," i nodded as i bent over slightly searching for the right volume. "It's for Yuta. He's collecting My Hero Academia right now. I wanted to see if they had the next volume he needs."

"Hm." He scoffed. "Yuta."

"There's nothing wrong with looking for something for a friend."

"Never said there was. It's whatever."

I finally found the volume and snapped a quick picture of it to send to Yuta and asked him to come back down here when he had time. I started searching for another series he had in mind of starting when i felt something creep up my thigh. Johnny was behind me now, his fingers just barely under my skirt and rubbing across the band of my thigh highs. I straightened up and swatted at him. "Quit being a perv!" He smirked and set a kiss on my lips holding it long enough for me to worry about our PDA. "Dont make us like Quinn and Jae!" I whispered harshly.

"Sorry, i won't. I just needed it."

"Needed a kiss?"

He shrugged and kissed me again, this time quicker before he moved away from me and disappeared to another aisle leaving me to stay flustered. I grumbled and switched to find the English volumes of the manga section but got distracted by a rack of Rilakkuma plushies. The adorable teddy bear was one of my vices and I had spent more than I needed too on a few of the plushies here. There was one in particular that I didn't have that shone like a beacon of light in the sea of others. I crushed the plushie to my chest, happy at how soft and perfectly squishable it was. I looked at the price tag and winced, setting my dream plush down and retreating to the manga which i could afford.

I wasted almost a half hour mulling over which series I should buy- one i was close to finishing or another I had always wanted to collect. I sighed and picked the cheaper option, which still made me happy. I needed a new job asap but it was slim pickings in this stupid college town and the surrounding areas. I was flipping through the volume in my hand when Johnny appeared beside me, startling me.

"Hey, not to be a buzzkill but I'm hungry as fuck. Would you care if we went to go eat now?"

"Oh yeah! Sorry, i was reading through some of the volumes and got distracted with deciding what I wanted. We can go." I noticed he had a bag in his hand as he had apparently bought something. "Found something you liked?"

He simply nodded and i tried to sneak a peek to see what it was. He yanked the bag away and held it high above his head where he knew he couldn't reach. "Don't be nosey. Go pay for your stuff." He kissed the top of my head and I pouted before walking to the register and paying. The restaurant wasn't too far from the bookstore so we took the scenic route, walking hand in hand. I loved the way his fingers engulfed mine and made my entire hand disappear. I gave him a few squeezes to guide him in a new direction until we arrived. I pulled the door open for us and kept our hands entwined as we went to the line to order again.

Almost a half hour later we were still eating and actually laughing and having a flowing conversation. His laugh was so charmingly awkward that it resembled music to my ears. I could listen to him talk all day when he was passionate about something, his little lisp becoming more adorable to me by the second. I watched every motion his mouth made, falling into my secret oral fixation and noticing everything i found attractive- his overbite, his lisp again, his tongue reaching out to lick his lips, the small hiss he made as he sucked in air through his teeth when he was trying to think of something, and every once in awhile when he would sink his teeth into his bottom lip. He quirked an eyebrow at me, stopping mid sentence.

"What are you looking at?"

I snapped myself out of my daydream like state. "N-nothing, i'm just listening to you."

"I feel like you're staring, you weirdo." He chucked the balled up straw wrapper at me and i returned with my napkin ammo.

"I was not staring! I was just interested in what you were saying but now you're just being a jerk."

"I am not, whiny princess. I could just tell. Do i have something stuck in my teeth? Sauce on my face?"

I shook my head. "Nope, you're all clean."

He nudged his foot against my leg from beneath the table. "Then tell meeee."

"You'll laugh at me!"

"I'll always laugh at you but it's all in good fun."

I sighed and set my hands on my forehead, making a visor of my fingers and trying to block him from looking at me directly. "It's just a thing i have with mouths, ok?"

"Fuck, was i chewing too loud or something?"

I shook my head. "No it wasn't really when you were eating food it was more like when you were talking and stuff. It's just...a thing I have."

"I don't get it…"

"It's like a….like a fixation, ok? Can we move on before i embarrass myself more?"

"Fixation? Is this like a kink thing again?" He asked.

"No...a little. But not really I suppose. Just stuff I find attractive that draws me in i guess."

"So you just like notice stuff I do with my mouth?"

I set my head on the table wondering why i couldn't be a normal human being who didn't make a fool of themselves when they were with a boy they liked (read: loved). "Y-yeah…"

"So what did you notice, i'm curious. Is this more stuff that you think is cute about me? Hmm?"

"Yes...for the most part."

"Then tell me."

I sighed again and kept my voice low. "I watched you chew on your fork while you were talking. And i like your lisp."

"Please no."

I looked up at him and he was covering his mouth instantly. Great. Now i freaked him out for good. "'M sorry." I grumbled.

"I hate my lisp, it's the worst. Why do you even think it's cute?"

I shrugged. "I dont know. Maybe because i think you're cute. Maybe because i like how it adds to your accent. Maybe i'm just extra weird."

"You're the first person to ever tell me that, you know."

"I figured as much. I don't mention it often because it weirds people out. So, again, i'm sorry."

He chucked the napkin back at me making me look up at him. "What you think is weird is your normal. And hell yeah i think you're weird but you're interesting too. You keep me guessing and I never have any idea what you’re gonna say or make me feel next.” Johnny looked down at the small amount of food he had left and poked at it with his fork, taking his turn to avoid looking at me.

“Correct me if i’m wrong but are you being nice to me, Johnathan?”

“Don’t be gross.” He laughed. “You’re cute too, i guess.”

“Thanks, i’m flattered.” I rolled my eyes playfully and stood up. “I’ll be back, I’m gonna use the bathroom.”

“Sure, you don’t want me to come with you?” He joked.

“Please don’t. I actually have to pee.” I nudged his head as I walked by him and headed towards the bathroom. I checked my phone to see if Quinn had texted me or noticed that we were gone. There was nothing but an excited text from Yuta along with a kissy face selfie. I responded to him and finished up quickly before returning back to the table. I stopped when I was about to sit down as i was face to face with the Rilakkuma plush I had wanted back at the bookstore. “What did you do?”

Johnny shrugged. “I saw you looking at it so...i don’t know. I thought you might want it.”

“You...you didn’t have to…” I whispered. I was practically speechless and couldn’t even move. I just kept staring at it. I had never once expected him to do anything like this for me. This made everything absolutely worse. Not only did I have feelings for him but now he was being adorable and sweet and thoughtful. What a fuckin’ asshole! This was the last thing I needed from someone who only saw me as a fuck buddy. It was also going to mess with my head and my heart more and I was a total glutton for punishment. What the hell was I going to do with myself?

“Do you like it? You’re looking at it like it’s a bomb.”

I finally sat down and swiftly took the plush off the table and held it in my lap. “Thank you.”

“It’s not problem. I got a keychain too. One where he’s sleeping.”

“You got a Rilakkuma keychain?” I asked, stunned.

He unclipped it from his belt loop and held it up for me to see. “Yeah, why not? I liked it.”

“I just...didn’t peg you for a guy that would buy a stuffed animal for himself.”

“It kinda reminds me of you.”

We both looked at each other not sure of what had transpired. We were frozen in place and I could almost hear my heart thundering between my ears. I squeezed onto one of the plush ears trying to stabilize my anxious thoughts. Johnny swallowed hard and opened his mouth as if he was going to say something but a loud vibration of his phone on the table scared us both. I saw that it was Jae calling and Johnny picked it up.

“Dude, where the fuck are you!?’ I could hear him yelling through the phone.

“We left. We weren’t going to wait for you two to finish fucking and being gross.”

“Come back here and get us!”

“No way. You guys can find your own way home. Eri and I are going back to her place and then we’re gonna fuck.”

“Shut up!” I whispered harshly. “We can just go pick them up. It’s not big deal.”

Johnny shook his head at me, holding the phone a bit aways from his ear as Jae continued to yell. “No way in hell.” He mouthed at me.

I kicked at him under the table and gave him a stern look. “Go back.”

“They don’t deserve it.” Johnny hung up on his best friend and got up from the table. “C’mon. Let’s get going.” He grabbed our trays and tossed the garbage in the trash while i gathered my plush and purse.

“You’re ridiculous, you know that? We’re never going to hear the end of it.”

“And? It’s time for us to have our own fun now. Don’t worry about them.” He pulled me close to him and kissed me. “You ready?”

I knew it was wrong to leave Quinn and Jae behind butttt a part of me was still annoyed that they ditched us to go fuck. At least Johnny and I were going to hook up in the sanctity of my apartment and not in the middle of hanging out with friends. Besides, I did want to spend some alone time with him now. I guess it wouldn’t hurt to have some fun of our own. “Yeah, I’m ready Johnny.”

--

“Jesus, it's cold in here!” I said as i opened the door to my apartment. “I'm gonna get a blanket for us if you wanna find something to watch.”

“Sure.” Johnny shrugged and kicked off his shoes as he sat down on the couch. I went to my room and tossed my purse and plush on my bed before gathering my fleece blanket. I nudged my own shoes off and made my way back to the couch, barely being able to see with the blanket balled up in my face. Just as i was hoping that i wouldn't trip, my foot caught onto Johnny's vans and i almost landed face first on the floor. He caught me instantly though and I was plenty grateful. Knowing my luck i would’ve slammed my head on the side of the coffee table. “And you think I’m clumsy.”

“Shush!” I said, pawing at his hands on my waist. “You shouldn't have left your clown shoes in the way!” He forced me to face him, my body poised between his legs and hands firmly on my hips. “What?”

He remained silent and gently eased me forward as he relaxed back into the couch. I got the message and crawled into his lap, straddling him. His lips busied themselves with pressing tender kisses to my neck while his hands crawled along my thighs. The gentle actions were enough to make me shiver just a bit. I pushed his hair back gently and took his wire frames between my fingers, pulling them away from his face. He blinked a few times as if his eyes had to readjust. I reclined back to set them onto the coffee table before returning my attention to him. “Well…” I began. “Here we are.”

“I've been wanting to fuck you all day you know that?”

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, i get it. The thigh highs. You're a slut.” I pouted. “I kinda...maybe…” I lowered my voice to just above a whisper. “I didn't mind hanging out with you today. I had a really nice time.” I was already kicking myself but i couldn't bare to hide my disappointment of my own true feelings. I did have fun with him. He made me laugh, genuinely laugh, and feel good. And the Rilakkuma he bought me would be something I cherished for a long time. I liked our date but I couldn't ask him out again, especially if he just wanted to fuck. Of course, that was my intention at the beginning as well but as usual I got caught up in trivial things that made me feel like I was actually important to someone.

“O-oh…” he said as if he wasn't even sure how to respond. I kept my gaze casted downward as my fingers twiddled away at a stray thread hanging from his shirt. “I mean...it was like cool and all I guess.”

He guessed. It stung. It really did. Even after the hand holding, kissing, and buying me things I was still nothing. But at least I knew what i was good for with him. “Yeah...Do you wanna….just get to watching stuff?”

He set his curled index finger beneath my chin and raised my head. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing's wrong, I'm fine.” I pushed his hand away and went to crawl off his lap but he instantly seized my waist again.

“Eri.” I hated the way his voice sounded when he was stern and reprimanding. It made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end and had my whole body melting into gooey mess.

“What?” I grunted.

“Tell me.”

“It’s nothing! I just thought you-it's stupid just forget about it.”

“Eri.” There it was again. Still after all these months his voice still drew me back in. I rolled my eyes and practically whined, despising that he was trying to make me talk about how i felt when he was the king of emotional suppression. It just wasn’t fair.

I tugged on the loose thread again, pulling it from the shirt completely. “I thought maybe you would've liked our date...the hang out thing I mean.”

“What makes you think i didn't?”

“You just said ‘it was cool and all i guess’. It sounds like you didn’t give a shit about it at all…”

“You want me to care about a date?”

“Yes! Wait, no! No, i do not.”

He raised a brow and squinted his eyes in confusion. “You don't?”

“I just- will you let me go? I don’t wanna talk about this anymore. Let's just fuck and get it over with.” I tried prying at his hands but he still wouldn't let me go, even when I started squirming.

“Eri.”

“Stop saying my name like that!” I snapped. I was failing at making it look like he wasn’t capable of making me lose my sanity. 

“Say it like what?”

“Like all….UGH! You're frustrating!”

“I think you're frustrating yourself.” He chuckled which made my entire face heat up.

“I am not! I don't care if you don't care about the date but was it even a date like i had a really good time but you didn't and now i feel all weird and i don't wanna feel weird but i do and you're just here just not caring and i don't know! Ok?! I don't know!” I rambled in one breath.

“Shut up, you idiot.” He cupped my face in his hands, practically engulfing my entire head before pulling me to his lips. He was right of course. I was frustrating myself and letting my emotions mix with my anxiety to create this brutal concoction of frustration and confusion. I wanted to push him away so i could breathe and probably run away yet he was taking his sweet time as if he needed every caress of my lips. “I did have a good time.” He licked at the soft fullness of them before landing another kiss  “A really good time. Why are you worried that I didn't?”

“Fuck if i know.” I whimpered. “You're fucking with my head.”

“Welcome to my world.” He pushed my hair away from my neck and planted kisses along my jugular. “Also do you not like it when i say your name?” His breath was dangerously close to my ear, his words a whisper that made my fingers dig into his shoulders harder.

“You were saying it all...harsh and commanding.”

“Did it scare you? I didn't mean to.”

I shook my head. “N-no. It um...actually turned me on.”

“Oh.” He pulled away from me. “Is it...like part of the daddy thing? Am i doing a good job? I really didn't notice.” He was blushing now but a small smile was creeping onto his lips as if he was proud of himself.

I returned the smile, my head feeling just a bit clearer. My ability to overthink everything was annoying when it swallowed my entire thought process. But his words were comforting enough to encourage me to breath and relax against him. “Yeah, you did a good job. You know you're kind of already a bit dominant right?”

“Uh really? I just thought I was being normal.”

“Remember your normal isn't the same as everyone else's. You just didn't notice or it seemed natural to you. It works. I also kinda like how growly you get.”

“Growly? I notice i do do that sometimes. I d-dont really mean to…” he said softly.

“Do it more often. Like a lot more often but don't force it. I like it when you do it when you’re fucking me from behind.”

“Wow uh, well ok.” He laughed nervously and darted his eyes away from me. “I will um...try and keep that in mind. For next time.”

“Now, you mean?” I set my hands on his chest and rubbed at the firm muscles beneath his shirt.

“Well...y-yeah, i guess.”

“It was your idea. Thigh highs remember.”

His gaze went back to my thighs instantly. “How could i fucking forget.” He slid his hands under my skirt and grabbed at my ass roughly. “What else do you have underneath here?”

“Do you think i'm going to show you that easily?” I smirked.

“You will. Get up.”

I ignored him and instead buried my face in his neck to give him small bites and licks. He didn't seemed too pleased with that as he landed a harsh smack to my ass, making me hiss. "F-fuck...jerk."

"Get up, Eri."

I shimmed off him and stood between his legs as he resumed his reclined position and rested his arms across the back of the couch. Slowly, i unzipped the back of my skirt, pulling away the suspenders and letting it fall to the floor. I pulled my shirt over my head, adjusting my hair once it was free and let him drink in the small fitting lingerie set. His eyes widened and his adam's apple bobbed within the tightness of his throat.

"What?" I started covering myself, suddenly becoming self conscious.

"W-wow…" was all he said.

"Wow, what?"

"Sorry, you just look…" he licked his lips and opened his legs a little wider. "You look hot."

"O-oh...” Was all I really managed to say. He took my hips in his hands again, pulling me gently to sit on the couch beside him. He caressed every inch of me while his lips crept closer to mine until they melted together. I trailed my hands beneath his shirt rubbing the softness of his stomach and begging to get it off so I could drink in his perfect body. Instead, he ignored my prying hands and pushed me down gently. I slipped one of the pillows that always resided on the couch behind my head while Johnny settled himself between my thighs. He focused his attention in trailing hot open mouth kisses and bites over my chest and winding down my stomach. Every bite was coupled with a soothing lick and a small whimper from me. I edged my hips up towards his mouth wanting him to mark my favorite spots. He dodged pleasing the place I wanted the most and grabbed a hold of my right thigh. He lifted my leg up to meet his lips and spent minutes on end kissing and rubbing every inch of it. I relaxed into his touches, feeling myself heat up at all the attention. “If this is how you’re gonna act every time I wear thigh highs then I’ll wear them more often.” I teased.

His eyes flickered up towards me but he remained silent. His lips went back to my inner thigh, kissing down to hover over my center, his bangs gently masking his face. I nibbled my lip nervously, wondering exactly what he was thinking and planning. The kiss was swift, pressed just above my clit and gone in an instant. I didn't ask him for more. That little act was enough progress for him and I couldn't help but feel a little bit proud. I smiled as I petted his hair back, whispering praises about how good he was making me feel. Again, he said nothing, seeming to be completely focused on giving the same attention to my left leg. His fingers danced across the soft fabric on my calf as his lips remained heated and eager. When he reached my ankle, he sat back on his knees and I heard the soft zip of his pants coming undone. He pulled off his button up, followed by his undershirt, yanking it up by the the collar and leaving them both by his shoes.

I pulled him close to me so we were flush together and wasted no time feeling the strong muscles in his arms. We locked eyes for a moment, smiling at one another before diving head first into another heated session of push and pull of our tongues. His hand rested over my neck, alternating between adding and releasing pressure while his hips ground into my budding wetness. I squeezed my legs around him, finding it a bit difficult to work around the minimal space we had on the couch. He didn't seem to care though and he was perfectly content with keeping his big body against me. I took in every degree of his warmth, grateful as i was about to be stark naked in a cold apartment.

"Take them off." I whispered between a kiss and suck to my tongue. I pulled at the nearest belt loop my fingers could reach. He let out a breathy sigh and worked them off. I could already see how filled out his boxer briefs were. The fabric was straining around him, barely keeping him in place. "Did my thigh highs turn you on that much?"

He didn't answer and instead buried his face in my neck while his hands worked my panties down around my ankles. After, he pulled my hand between us, setting it over his hardness. His breath cradled my ear in a plea. "Touch me." He whispered. My free hand dug into his hair while the other pulled the waistband down and set him free. He seemed thankful to finally get a bit of relief and the beautiful moan that he let out when i wrapped my hand around him was enough to almost make me cum right there. I shuddered a bit as that noise tickled my nerves and sent me into a fit of desperate hormones ready to take in every single inch of him.

He was already leaking so much that i could coat his sensitive skin with smooth glides and gentle squeezes. His teeth sunk into my collarbone, pinching my skin between the perfect rows and adding tenderness to the area. I flexed my fingers around his head, focusing rough pulls there as he started rutting his hips. He matched my pumps almost perfectly, shuddering curse words and vocal approvals into my skin. I eased his cock closer and he shifted his hips to press against my lower lips. My eyes fluttered closed as he rocked himself through my slickness. I circled my hips each time the tip of his cock flowed over my clit and ignited my lustful greed for him. A stiffer groan bubbled in his throat as he grabbed my hips firmly, keeping me steady so he could control all the movements. That small bit of control made me squirm beneath him, impatiently wanting to feel more of his fire fueled veins ride through my lips.

My thighs trembled ever so slightly, feeling the ridge of his head tease my clit once more. I let out a small mewl and felt as the mellow rocks of his hips slowed so he could press himself against my entrance. “W-wait, Johnny.” I pleaded.

“Hm?” He stopped entirely, waiting for me.

“We should use a...ya know.”

“What for? We’ve already done it without one.”

“Yeah but I don’t want to make a habit out of it. I’d rather be safe than sorry, ok?”

He sighed and bowed his head before getting up from the couch. “They’re in that box still, right?”

“Yeah.” I said softly. He wasn’t going to guilt me into fucking him again without a condom. I didn’t play that, no matter how good it felt only a week ago (or how much I kept thinking about it for that matter). While I waited for him to return I slipped my hand between my thighs, coating myself in my wetness and pressing two fingers inside. I sighed softly and closed my eyes, concentrating on the self pleasure. A few moments later, I felt the couch dip again and heard him chuckle lowly.

"Please. Don't let me interrupt." He kissed my knee and kept my thighs wide open to enjoy the view. I adjusted myself a bit lower on the couch and added a third finger before stretching myself open for him to see. I moved my fingers up towards my clit adding a few circles against it that made my back arch. I felt Johnny hover over me, taking my chin in his hand and making me face him. "You're not gonna cum like that."

"I know i'm not." I smirked and set my cum coated fingers in my mouth, enjoying the way his eyes widened and pupils dilated at the sight. I grabbed his ass, pulling him to me again before forcing myself down onto his length. He pressed me wide open, stretching me and filling me perfectly. His bottom lip was caught in his teeth and he moved my legs to rest on his shoulders. I had no idea what possessed him with the thought that I was some sort of contortionist pretzel but as soon as i felt him hit deep within me my eyes fluttered closed once more and i clutched onto his arms. I could barely handle it. Every move he made was  absolutely flawless and heavy with lust that it made me moan more than i'd ever done before.

My breath was barely existent and he took the opportunity to capture me in another kiss, digging his fingers into my hair to keep me close. He seemed different somehow. More attentive, more touchy, more focused on us. It was like he wanted to spend hours within me and torturing me with orgasm after orgasm. He began rolling his hips, my calves jerking and toes curling around his head. I whispered his name against his lips, a scarcely audible beg for him to never stop. The sensation was so overwhelming i could feel tears edging to my waterline.

"You feel so fucking amazing, Eri." He said as his brows furrowed and sweat beaded across his temples. My body warmed at his praise, rolling against him to beg for more for more and clawing at the back of the couch. "C-can i try something?"

I raised a brow, confused at the timing of his sudden question. "H-huh? What? I don’t want you to stop, please."

"No, i know, me either but...i thought you might like this." He removed his arms from keeping himself propped above me and instead clamped one around my throat and the other over my mouth. He dug his fingers into my neck sending a shock wave to my system. My eyes widened as I never excepted him to get so into choking me. I was sure that he was still tentative to the whole action but the fact that he was doing this for me made my heart flutter with the prospect of love once more. "Is this ok?"

I nodded eagerly, tapping at his hips to remind him to keep fucking me as he took every breath from my lungs. My head dove into a fuzzing space of semi consciousness and pleasure, drowning in my deprivation. My walls clenched tight, holding the pressure and sucking him in as if he could go any further within me. His entire frame shuddered and his palm pressed harder into me, sinking against my windpipe. I worked my hips back against him, a bit quicker as i needed the fast pace to add to my imminent orgasm.  "Mo-more?" He asked softly, through his uneven breaths.

All i could do was nod again, helplessly, as my scream was blocked out by the hand over my mouth and he plowed into me relentlessly. I could barely keep my sanity let alone my orgasm at bay, especially when his movements were coupled with those deep groans he made. My lungs were aching at this point and my stomach tightened. Every muscle in my lower half tensed and just as I tapped his forearm to free myself from his restriction, my back arched and sent my body into a spasm. It was intense, definitely more intense than my previous orgasms with him and I gulped down heavy breaths just to keep myself from going dizzy. He pulled me into his arms, keeping me against his chest and cradling my head as if to steady me. "Ssh, i got you." He said.

The light above me was blinding and i blinked rapidly as another shock wave zipped through me from head to toe. He edged my legs down from his shoulders leaving me to finally relax a bit more. I clutched onto him and squeezed my eyes so tight i could see colors flashing in the darkness of my lids. It took another minute or two until i had calmed down enough, feeling like a bit of a fool for having to completely recover from an orgasm. I hid myself in his shoulder, hoping he wouldn't think it was weird. He kissed my neck, my cheek, then my temple, before pulling away so my chest could fully expand.

"Can you get on your knees for me?" He asked as he sat back again. I instantly looked down at his cock which seemed to be painfully swollen and throbbing just a tiny bit. I wanted to take care of him and slowly eased myself up into his favorite position. It wasn't easy, especially with my legs feeling like utter jello but i managed to get there. I gripped the armrest and spread my knees to the width of the couch cushion. He wrapped his arm around my waist and pressed into me, making me wince. He stopped and slowed a bit, giving time for my tender walls to readjust to his girth. My shoulders dipped and i bowed my head, panting as he worked my hips back against him. I shifted a bit until it felt comfortable again.

He slid his warm hands up my sides to between my shoulders, unclipping my bra and pulling it down towards my wrists. I flung it away and let him engulf my breast in his hands, kneading harshly and pressing his torso against me. He held onto me tight and forced brutal thrusts into me, barely allowing me to keep up. I was already becoming a giant mess of emotions and couldn't bare another breathtaking orgasm no matter how much I craved it. I curled my nails into the fabric of the couch as I felt his thumb rub over my nipple between rough gropes. I breathed out his name like a swear and dipped my stomach downwards, allowing him to nudge at the sensitive bundle of nerves only a few inches within me. Every once in awhile he would pop out completely, just to fuck me ever so slightly with his tip before crashing back in. That simplistic addition was practically making my eyes roll into the back of my head.

I could already feel myself tiptoeing on that fine line of a second orgasm but I was holding back as much as i could. With the way his muscles were flexing against me I could tell he was trying not to lose his cool just yet either but was very close to failing. "Johnny…" I mewled and wiggled my hips back against him, trying to coax him to spill into the condom. He growled low and deep within his throat, naturally and without thought, as I looked back to see him still in deep concentration. I bit my lip and smirked to myself over my favorite sound he made.

"OH MY GOD!" 

My perfect fantasy world was ripped apart when my eyes flew open and i was staring directly at Quinn and Jae who had come in through the front door. I screamed and scrambled to get the discarded blanket from the floor and pull it to my chest. Johnny quickly pulled out and balled up his clothes to try and shield himself from view. "ERI! RIGHT ON THE COUCH?!"

I could tell my face was beat red and i had no idea what to even say. Jae was covering his eyes, avoiding us at all cost. "Dude, gross. Put some clothes on!"

"Shut up! You weren't supposed to be here!" Johnny yelled.

"THIS IS MY HOUSE TOO! FIRST YOU DITCH US AT THE BOBA PLACE AND NOW YOU’RE FUCKIN’ OUT IN THE OPEN?!” Quinn continued to yell.

“Excuse me! You guys were being gross and LEFT US to go fuck in the bathroom first! We had every right to leave you because we weren’t going to wait until ya’ll got your rocks off!” I yelled back.

“Can ya’ll like...leave? I don’t even want to sit on the couch now.” Jae said, peeking between his fingers.

“Fuck you, dude!” Johnny got up, still holding his clothes in front of him. “Fuckin’ idiots.” He turned and headed towards my room making Jae groan when he saw Johnny’s ass.

“Bro! Come onnnnnnnnnn! Gross!” He groaned.

“Well what the fuck do you want me to do, huh?! It’s kinda difficult to put skinny jeans on with a goddamn hard on!”

I got up as well, in no mood to continue to be in front of them and wanting to shrink away immediately. I wrapped the blanket around myself and sprinted to push Johnny into my room and slam the door shut. I threw myself face down on my bed and screamed into my pillow. “I want to fucking die!”

Johnny tossed his clothes to the floor and crawled in beside me, pulling my spare pillow over his face and groaning. “Why are they like this? Why do they always have to ruin everything, i swear to god!”

“Please put me out of my misery. I can’t believe Jae saw me naked. Not only naked but getting fucking plowed!”

“I swear if he mentions anything about the way you looked i’m decking him in the face.” Johnny snapped.

“Wait do you think i looked gross? Oh my god, i probably looked gross.”

“Why are you worrying what he thinks?!”

“Well, i mean- if i’m gonna be naked in front of someone I at least want to look good!” I buried my face deeper into the mattress, mumbling a “nevermind.” Johnny pulled the pillow off his face and sighed. He snapped off the condom, tossing it into the trash beside my desk as I finally pulled my face up from the mattress. He set the pillow under his head and stared at the ceiling a permanent scowl on his face. I inched my way closer and set my head on his chest, sighing deeply. “What are we going to do now?”

He set an arm behind his head and looked over at me. “I don’t know. I’m not going back out there. Maybe i’ll just nap or some shit.”

I bit my lip. “I mean...We could finish…”

“Are you really still worked up after getting embarrassed like that?"

"Well they're not gonna see us in here! And i'd rather not think about what Quinn is gonna say about seeing your whole ass when you go home and I have to face them."

He ran both if his hands over his face and groaned again. "Christ…"

"Besides they act like I've never done shit on the couch! I gave Lucas a blowjob there!"

Johnny glared at me before rolling over. "Seriously?"

"What?" I asked confused. "What happened?"

He adjusted himself as best he could and didn't say another word. I shook his shoulder gently. "Whaaaattt?" He still didn't say anything which made me pout. "Johnny, why are you being grumpy?"

He shrugged me off his shoulder but I set my head on it instead. "Daddyyyy, tell me." I rubbed his chest and slid my hand down his stomach.

"Dont even." He grumbled.

"Then tell me."

"I'm fine."

I kissed at his shoulder then moved to his neck. "Nah-uh. You got all grumpy all of a sudden and i need to know why." I tiptoed my fingers lower, trailing down his body hair to grip his base. He grunted and still tried to ignore me. I made a hard bite just beneath his jaw before grabbing a handful of his hair and pulling back harshly. He hissed and grabbed at my wrist. "Tell me." I commanded. His eyes turned into slits as he gave me a death glare before tackling me, however with my bed being so small, we completely rolled over and fell onto the floor with a hard thud. I landed on top of him, straddling his lap. We looked at each other and burst into laughter.

"We can't win, can we?" I giggled.

"I guess not." He smiled as he pulled me down onto his chest and kissed me, pushing my hair out of my face. "I took the condom off because I figured you wouldn't wanna keep going."

"Hmm, i could go all night with you." I gave him a kiss and he rose to prop himself of his elbows.

"Well damn, i'm all for that." He smirked.

I shimmied off him and grabbed another from my box, eager to get back into action. He got up from the floor and back onto the bed while i tore the wrapper open and got between his knees. "You know...it was really hot when you choked me like that."

"I could tell you really liked it. I thought you were having an exorcism with the way you came so hard."

I rolled my eyes and blushed. "Don't flatter yourself too much." I rolled the rubber onto him and pushed him down onto the bed. He dragged me with him, positioning me to be his little spoon and pulling my legs open. I bit my lip and hid shyly into my pillow as he guided himself back into me. He sighed softly against my heated skin and kept my leg secured in his arm. I encouraged his thrusts, grinding myself back against him while his other arm slipped under my head and crossed over my neck, crushing my throat once more. I gripped the blanket beneath me tight, trying to steady myself in any way possible. Johnny bit at the back of my neck, keeping his control over me. I let out a strangled whimper when his hips sped up, snapping harshly against my ass.

I gripped at his hand that rested by my propped up leg and carried his fingers to my wetness. I wanted attention to my excited bundle of nerves but instead I felt his middle finger press into me in conjunction with his cock. I arched against him as that little extra addition stretched me further than i thought I could ever go. My fingers flexed with tension, practically shaking as my mind went blank. I could barely make out his cocky strangled whispers as I slipped closer towards another orgasm. He was curling his finger as much as he could while digging deep to the hilt inside me. I was squirming desperately and clamping down around him. He moaned my name deeply after a hard clench, his cock throbbing with his release. As he filled me, he slipped his finger out and gently rubbed at my clit, adding to the sensitivity. His hold across my neck loosened and i laid my head back on his shoulder, feeding into the loving attention. He stayed within me, his warmth filling my lower half while my cum covered him completely with my second orgasm, slightly dripping down between my cheeks.

We laid together for awhile, not saying much while we recuperated our breaths. He set my leg down and instead wrapped his arm around my waist keeping his chest pressed against me. I sighed and joined my fingers with his, giving his hand a slight squeeze. He nuzzled the back of my neck and stayed like that, drifting into sleep. It took me a bit longer to try and rest and i found myself distracted by the Rilakkuma plush that had fallen to the floor. I stretched my arm all the way out, reaching for it while trying not to disturb Johnny too much. My fingertips just barely grabbed it by the ear and I pulled it close, snuggling it to my chest.

I felt happy, more so than I was used to and the fact that it was caused by Johnny scared me the most.

--

We had spent days texting each other, sending stupid memes, videos, and sweet good morning snapchats. He would occasionally send me short clips of him playing around on his keyboard which made me feel warm with hope that he was getting his creativity back. I dared to share videos of me practicing guitar but never me singing. I was always out of frame too as i was still too shy to show him all of me. Quinn would grill me every time i stopped whatever i was doing to answer him immediately. Those little messages were starting to carry a lot of weight and even more so when they turned into late night facetime sessions or the occasional phone sex. I had even saved a selfie of him as his contact photo that would pop up every time he called.

Our little bit of free time was spent together, watching shows on Netflix, episode by episode, or even having online Overwatch matches where we would curse each other out. I never wanted to be healer and he wouldn't cover me when i needed him most. It was a pain but still proved to be a good time and we almost always ended up laughing in the midst of battle. He was even patient with listening to some of my band recommendations though he still wasn't too keen on some of the heavier stuff I listened too. I appreciated him trying though. It would suck when we would have to work and couldn't pay attention to our phones to respond as much. Tonight was one of those nights. I knew he was closing at the cafe and i was eagerly waiting for his response for when we could hang out next. Somewhere around 10:30 i got a phone call from him instead.

"Heyyyyyy beauutifullll." He said with such saccharine sweetness i knew he was up to something.

"What do you want?" I said flatly, needing to get past his little cover up.

"So...remember like a week or so ago when we went to get Boba and left Jae and Quinn at the place?"

"Yes?"

"So….he kinda got back at me."

"What do you mean?"

I heard him sigh deeply. "So this morning he said something was wrong with his car and asked to borrow mine. He promised to take me to work and pick me up while he tried to figure out what was wrong. Well i've been trying for like over a half hour to call him and even tried Quinn but neither one of them are answering. And uh...this isn't my pay week so I'm broke as fuck and cant afford an uber. Sooo….would you be able to come pick me up?"

"See, i told you we should've gone back to get them! But noooo, you had to be so headass about it!"

"Yeah yeah! Save your 'i told you so's'. Can you just pick me up? Please? It's cold out here and I'm freezing my ass off. It's starting to snow."

I sucked my teeth. "Fine. You owe me."

"I'll steal you some cake pops and breakfast sandwiches tomorrow."

"Deal. Give me 10 minutes. I'll be there."

"Thanks, you're awesome."

"No shit." I smiled. "I'll see you."

He hummed a goodbye and we hung up. I pulled on my fleece lined sweatpants and my winter layers before trudging out to my car. There was only a thin layer of snow on the windshield so i thankfully didn't have to stand outside and dust it off. I cranked up the heat as soon as I got in and headed towards his job. It didn't take me long to see his dark figure in the stillness of the parking lot. He ran up to the car, his breath visible puffs and nose bright red.

"Fuck, it's cold! Thanks, babe." He climbed in and shut the door and I noticed he looked completely drained and tired. His dark circles were more prominent and his smile seemed a bit forced.

"Are you ok?" I asked, concerned.

"Huh? Yeah, i guess. Why?"

"You seem like you could pass out at any minute. Have you been getting enough sleep?"

He chuckled. "Uh, no. When do I ever? I'm running on coffee and energy drinks."

"That isn't good Johnny…" i set my hand over his. "You need a break."

"Yeah tell my bosses that. It ain't gonna happen, princess."

"Have you eaten?"

"Don't have money too. Too busy at work to eat either. I'll figure something out when i get home."

"Johnny, what the fuck." I sighed and put my car in reverse and backed out of the parking spot. "You're coming home with me." I switched into drive and headed back to my apartment.

"No offense, but i'm not particularly in the mood to fuck right now. I know, shocking, but my feet and back are killing me."

"I'm going to feed you and you're getting a bubble bath."

"A what? I don't take bubble baths. That's like...girl stuff…"

"I will slap you. Bubble baths aren't a gendered activity, idiot. Everyone needs to get clean." I rolled my eyes. "You're doing what I say and i'm not getting any back talk about it, got it?"

He put his hands up in mock defense. "Fine, fine. Whatever you say." He closed his eyes and rested his head back in the seat and I was sure he was dead asleep in seconds.

I took my time driving home, letting him enjoy his quick nap. I gently shook him awake when i pulled into my lot and he shuffled out of the car like a zombie, following me to my door. We tossed our coats and hats on the floor, not bothering to hang them up and set our wet shoes on the doormat. I went to work cooking pasta (the quickest and cheapest thing I had to fill him up) while he stretched out on the couch to fall asleep again. He woke up instantly once I held the steaming bowl of finished spaghetti by his face and devoured it like a ravenous dog, asking for seconds soon after. I filled up his bowl again and set some aside for me, eating much slower than he was.

"I'm gonna get the bath going for you, ok?" I said once I was done.

"I can just shower you know."

"Baths help relax your muscles. Didn't I say no back talk?"

He rolled his eyes and left me to my own devices. I made sure the water wasn't too boiling before adding a bath bomb and a ton of bubble bath soap, bath oil, and some epsom salt. I even tossed in some soap flower petals I had gotten from the local dollar store and always used when i took my baths. I lit the candle that stayed on the top of the toilet tank and surveyed my handiwork. It was about to be a fun time. "Johnny!" I called out to him. "It's ready!"

He came into the bathroom and took one look at the bath and almost walked out. "What the hell is all of this?"

"Clothes off. Get in."

"Eri, this is ridicu-"

I pulled at his shirt. "You smell like sweat and gross coffee. Naked. Now."

He pulled his shirt over his head and nudged his socks off with his toes. "Don't you think it's-"

"Pants. Lets go."

He pursed his lips and slid off his dress pants and underwear. "Alright, fine. I'll get in." He walked over to the tub as if it was going to attack him and dipped his foot in slowly. "You want me to boil in there?! Why is it so hot?"

I rolled my eyes at him acting like a baby and turned on the cold water to bring it to a better temperature for him. "Try that."

He dipped his foot in again and seemed satisfied with it. He slowly sunk down and settled as best as he could given his long limbs. He stood quiet for a second before looking up at me. "This is the shit."

"Oh my god. I told you! You're over here with your fragile masculinity about taking a bath. It's the best thing ever! Hashtag self care, homie."

"Get in here with me." He grinned.

"Oh, and where am i gonna fit when you take up the entire tub?"

"We'll figure it out, just come in here. The water's niceeeee."

"Yeah because i made it that way." I left the bathroom adding that i would return in a second. I went back to the kitchen and pulled out the last two beers I had, flicked off the caps and took it back to the bathroom.

"Helllll yeahhhh." Johnny perked up when he saw what i had in tow. I handed them over to him to hold while i discarded my clothes and maneuvered myself between his legs with plenty of difficulty. My tub wasn't made for a giant and me put together. Eventually we settled into a mostly comfortable position and i rested my head back against his chest, sipping at my beer. He seemed to be preoccupied by gathering suds in his hands and squishing the bubbles like a big kid. I took another sip and set the glass bottle onto the floor a little bit aways from the tub.

"You look like a toddler playing with the bubbles like that." I laughed.

"I'm just having fun. Besides, i can do this with them." He smooshed a handful of suds into the side of my face, catching me completely off guard.

"Oh you ass!" I wiped my face and flung the bubbles at him, getting it in his hair and face. He set his beer down beside mine and tried grabbing me, making water splash over the edge of the tub. I was a giggling fit as we tried to see who could cover who in the most bubbles. He splattered more into my hair though I was trying to block him as much as I could. I had closed my eyes for fear of getting soap in them and swatted at him until i felt him grabs my wrists and pull me close. We were still laughing out asses off until i wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him.

"Isn't this better than some boring shower?" I smiled.

"Yeah, everything's better with you...but i do actually have to get clean. My hair is greasy as fuck."

"Oh, hold on. I grabbed my shampoo from the corner of the tub and pumped some into my palms. I slathered it into his hair, pushing it back before dipping my hands in the water. I scratched at his scalp, rubbing the shampoo in and making sure any didn't get into his face. He didn't protest at all and instead leaned into my chest, letting me take care of the rest. I wiggled onto my knees to get better access to him and he of course took the opportunity to grabs my ass, laughing when he slapped it and made suds fly about. I smacked the back of his head playfully and demanded he stay still when my nails were digging into his scalp.

He kissed my chest and neck, promising he would be a 'good boy' and making me roll my eyes. Eventually, i grabbed the shower head and rinsed off his hair though he shook the water from it like a dog and doused me. I proceeded to force the shower spray in his face which only made him grab me again and practically dunk me into the water. He was barely relaxing but definitely smiling and having fun which i guess was still a win. When i slid back up he wiped the suds away from me and kissed me, keeping me cornered between the edge of the tub and his body. I smiled into the kiss and wrapped my arms around him again getting lost in my usual happy place.

We stayed like that until the water ran cold and made us shiver. I drained the tub and turned the shower on letting him fully wash up and get conditioner in his hair. There was a bit of a distraction when he was "helping me get clean" and his hands dove between my thighs. I almost fell for it because he always knew how to work me up in seconds but i was able to keep him at bay and make him rinse off. I stepped out the shower first, wrapping my hair in a towel and getting another for around my body. I padded out to the linen closet to get a spare and tossed it at him while he stood dripping in the tub. I went to my room to scope out some of Lucas' clothes that Johnny could wear for pajamas- well if he wanted to. He always did sleep naked. He came into the room a few minutes later, towel wrapped around his waist and still dripping just a bit.

"Did you actually want to sleep in clothes tonight? It is pretty cold." I asked.

"Yeah tha’ts fine….is that my hoodie?" He asked as he caught sight of his hoodie that rested over my desk chair. I had kept it since the night after the Halloween party.

"O-oh….yeah, uh… do you want to wear that?"

"I almost forgot you had it. It's like my favorite hoodie too." He grabbed it and briefly gave the hood a sniff. "Hm…"

"What?" I asked before pulling a pair of sweatpants out of the drawer for him.

"Nothing, it just smells like you now."

I raised a brow. "Uh...sorry?"

"Nah, its cool...how often were you wearing it?"

I didnt need him to know i slept with it on almost every night so i shrugged coolly. "Eh, once or twice. I didn’t really pay attention to it."

"Mhm." Was all he said before I handed him the sweatpants and he pulled them on. He crashed face down onto my bed, groaning happily as he finally got to lay down. I finished drying my hair, tying it up, and pulled on my comfy oversized pjs. I got in bed beside him and kissed at his bare shoulders.

"Do your muscles still hurt?" I asked.

"A little. Mostly my lower back. It was truck day so of course i had to get all the boxes of coffee and shit organized and lift every thing. I'm just ready to sleep."

I slipped over his hips and ran my hands over the small of his back. "Do you want a massage?"

He looked back at me. "What?"

"A massage. Like you know, to relieve some of the tension?"

"Oh...ok?"

"What? You never gotten one before?" I laughed at his incredulousness.

"Not really. I usually do it for girls to get them in the mood or whatever. Touch their tits."

"You're definitely the romantic." I shook my head and dug my palms into his lower back hearing a few vertebrae crack. He cursed softly and i felt his entire body relax beneath me. "There you go, dummy. That’s better."

I worked my hands over his muscles, sliding them across his shoulders and working my thumbs into the back of his neck. "Damn Eri, what did I do to deserve you?" He chuckled.

"I mean, i'm definitely the best you've ever had and the best you'll ever get." So why don't you ask me to be your girlfriend already?

He snorted. "Yeah, sure. I will say though that you've got the best ass and you're turning me into an ass man for sure."

"And a thigh man too."

"All of it." He smirked.

"Get into anal, then we'll talk." I cracked a bit more of of his spine before leaning down to kiss his cheek.

"Hm, doubt it." He closed his eyes and pulled my Rilakkuma plushie that had become my sleeping partner close to him. Why did he have to be so fucking cute? It was getting impossible to ignore my feelings for him no matter how hard i tried to suppress them. It was bad enough that he made me laugh and smile but we were actually getting along pretty well. He was starting to seem absolutely perfect and yet...he would never have feelings for me. I sighed internally as i slid off him and pressed myself into his back, becoming the big spoon. He didn't move or shrug me off so I assumed he didn't care. That or he was already passed out which seemed like the most logical explanation.

I pulled the covers over us and wrapped my arm tight around his waist. Eventually the stillness of the air around us and the calmness of his breathing got to me. Slowly, i started falling asleep, encased by his warmth and my feelings of never wanting him to let go.

--

Johnny's POV

I felt hands grabbing at me, clutching at my shoulders and chest. I tried to block them, shove them away. I pleaded for them not to touch me. I didn't need to feel used again. Or dirty. Or weak. I screamed then, burning my lungs as tears rolled down my face.

"JOHNNY! WAKE UP!"

The voice was different then what I was expecting and I opened my eyes to see her face full of worry with a red mark on her cheek. "E-Eri?" I could barely speak.

"I think you were having another night terror. I-i was trying wake you up but you kept fighting…"

"D-d-did I hit you?"

"I mean...i know it was an accident. You were in a state of panic." She dragged her thumb across my cheek and I could feel her wipe at the tears there. They hadn't stopped flowing and i realized how much of a fool I was. I never cried in front of anyone. I would never show that side to me. Not only had I told her my deepest secrets but she had watched me have not one but two night terrors. Now here I was crying-no, sobbing- like a little bitch. I had to leave. I shoved her away quickly, probably harder then i needed to and got up from the bed. I was in a rush to pull on my hoodie and get to the front door while she was calling out to me to slow down. I couldn't bare too.

I ran out of her room, wiping furiously at my face. I gathered my coat from the floor and shoved my feet into my work boots. Quinn was just coming through the door and stopped as she saw me. "Johnny? Are you ok?"

"Did Jae drop you off?! Is he still downstairs?!"

"Wh-what? Yeah. Did something happen between you and Eri?"

"Johnny!" I heard Eri cry out. I moved Quinn out of the way and took the stairs two at a time, calling out to Jae as another wave of tears threatened to push through. I threw the front door open and waved at him, his eyes widening as he sat in my car. I got in the passenger seat as fast as I could.

"Johnny, i can explain-"

"Drive!"

"What? What happened?"

"JUST DRIVE!"

"Fuck! Ok!" He hit reverse and backed out before speeding away from the apartment. "What's going on, bro?"

I covered my face with my hands and rested my elbows on my knees. "I can't do this anymore. They're getting worse. I cant fucking do this."

"What's getting worse? Did Eri do something to you? I'll turn this car around right now, i swear to god."

"No. No. Just go home. Please just take me home."

"You need to tell me what's happening. I mean it." He said, sternly.

"Not right now. Later. I can't...fuck, i can't…" i sniffled and rubbed at my eyes again, trying to make sure I didn't shed another tear. Jae didn't say anything after that but I could tell he wanted to. I just needed to know why I couldn’t get over this. It had been over a month since it initially happened but only a couple weeks since she had left me alone for good. I had spent so much time with Eri that I thought it would be over but she could only do so much. And now i had hit her, an accident, but it still brought me back to how I felt when the bruises were all that were left of Rixi’s torture. I pressed my head against the cold glass of the window and watched as the street lamps passed by.

"I really worry about you…" Jae said in Korean, which meant he was completely serious.

"Yoonoh, i said not now." I replied. My Korean wasn't the best of the best and my accent was complete shit compared to his but I could at least hold a conversation.

"I know not now, we don't have to get into it but i still wanted you to know. I'm here for you and if she so much as hurt you-"

"She didn't. Eri would never. I know she wouldn't. But...I just keep reliving what happened and can’t let it go. That's all."

"Maybe...you should try like therapy, man. They have those groups for survivors and-"

"I'm not a fuckin' charity case and i don't need therapy. I'm not gonna sit there being the only dude and get laughed at. I can deal with it on my own." I snapped.

"Can you? Because it doesn't seem like it." He said, softly.

"I don't even know anymore…"

He pulled up to our place and i walked ahead of him which was when i realized i had left everything in Eri's room. I sighed and set my head against the door wondering if Jae would go back and get my keys, wallet, and cell phone for me. I didn't want to face her. After all how did you face the person you had feelings for when you just cried right in front of them.

--

Eri's POV

He hadn't talked to me in a couple weeks again which was starting to become the most annoying and frustrating thing about him. Just when i thought i was breaking his walls down he would block me off again. It was like all those perfect moments we shared together meant nothing at all and we were back to square one- or square zero for that matter. I kept promising myself that no matter what Johnny did to try and weasel his way back into my life I wouldn't let him. I couldn't fix him, i couldn't stop his night terrors or anxiety, and I sure as hell couldn't get him to admit that he needed more help than i could give. It wasn't my job to build him back up even if i was okay helping him out a little. I still did care about him and didn't want him to suffer but I also had to move on for my sake.

However, the way I coped with everything was my favorite self destructive habit. The other lead singer of my band, André, had invited me over for a house party with some of the other people we normally played with at the club. Even a few of our friends who were on tour had come down to our shitty little college town to see us. It had been about a year since they had gone on tour and I was so damn happy to see them. Too many drinks later we were jumping on the couch and breaking shit, playing riff after riff on our guitars and laughing our asses off at stupid stories. I had no idea how many people I kissed or how many times someone asked me to hook up with them. Headbanging made me dizzy but i did it anyway. Hanging around a bunch of metalhead dudes was not the time to punk out. I stopped myself from puking a few times and managed to get a round of Three Amigos in; my specialty. One shot of Fireball, one shot of Honey Whiskey and a last shot of Bourbon.

That pushed me over the edge into bad decision territory. I stepped out of the apartment for a minute in a fit of drunken giggles. I unlocked my phone and trailed through my contact list ready to make a fool of myself. I dialed the number and waited. It only rang two times before he answered.

"Eri?" He sounded confused and a little bit sleepy. My sense of time was distorted.

"Heyyyyyy cutie. How's it going?" I giggled.

"Fuck, you're drunk."

"Absolutely not! I'm just a little tipsy, that's all baby, I swear."

"Yeah, no. You're drunk. I'm the last person you'd be calling."

"I miss your dick though. A lot. I think about it sometimes. It felt good. So good…"

His tone changed a bit, voice getting a little deeper. "Oh? Yeah? I guess I can admit I’ve thought about you a few times too."

"But you hate me!" I whined. "You're always so mean to me and you never talk to me!"

"I don't hate you I just hate the shit surrounding you is all. It's too much drama. I just want to fuck you without any problems."

"You can fuck me. Please fuck me."

"Eri…" I heard him sigh softly. "I can't, baby. You're drunk. That's literally illegal."

"Nooooo, no. I'm not I swear. Can I come over in a bit? Will you stay up for me? I'll make it worth your while."

"If you come over i'm just gonna have to babysit you and make sure you don't choke on your own vomit."

I let out a frustrated grunt, his name coming out short and snippy. "For the last time i'm not drunk. I want you to fuck me, ok? All these idiots at this party want me but I don't want any of them. I want you. I want you...all of you. For the rest of the night."

"Why do you do this? You're a heartbreaker and a fucking tease, you know that?"

"That's how I get them to keep coming back." I smirked. "Do you really not hate me? Like...for real."

"I meant what I said. I really don't hate you. I've thought about you more than enough. I've thought about when I was inside you, when we kissed, the way you looked at me when you came, how good you looked at the summer party. I've wanted you for awhile but never had the guts to say so, and always hated the shit you brought around."

"I'm a good girl, i swear. I won't cause any trouble. I really need you. Please?"

"Ok, ok...promise me you'll sober up first. And for the love of god don't drive. I'll call you an uber if you need one."

"Hmm, no. I'll be ok. I'll be there soon. Just be ready for me."

"You're a pain in the ass, i hope you know that."

"So are you, jerk." I giggled. "Bye." I hug up my phone, biting my lip as I was happy to get my hook up for the night. I missed him a little and needed to get my mind off of everything and he was the perfect distraction. Suddenly, the door swung open and my arm was grabbed.

"Why are you out here?! We need you to show Justin that he doesn't know shit about a good solo!" André said. "You need to kick his ass!"

"Ok! Ok! But only one. I've got to get somewhere after and sober up."

"Boooooo! That's boring! Where the hell do you need to go?"

"To get laid, duh! Where else would I go?"

"Oh great. Did Crystal call you up again? She was supposed to be coming soon." He said.

"Nah, not Crystal. An old flame. But tell her that she's more than welcome to get back in my bed and be tied up." I set my arm around his shoulder and lead him back into the apartment. "Now let's show that dumbass who's the head bitch in charge around here."

It was another hour or so before I left. I wanted to at least get some water in me before I headed over to his place. The snow on the ground had turned into slush as the past few days had been rainy. Tonight was barely any different. When I had gotten into the uber it was drizzling but as soon as I got to the apartment it had turned into a torrential downpour. The quick walk to the front door had me soaked in seconds and absolutely freezing. I knocked on the door fast hoping he was still up like he promised.

It took a minute but he opened the door. His eyes widened at my shivering state and pulled me in quickly. "Jesus, what happened to you?"

"It's p-pouring and like 30 degrees out. I'm f-fuck-fucking freezing."

He pushed the wet hair away from my face and cupped my face in his hands. I clutched onto his tank top, desperate for warmth and for his touch. He kissed my trembling lips and after such a long time of not being with him i realized exactly what made me hook up with him in the first place. He was always so attentive and ready to please me that it made my heart burst into a fast paced sprint. "Let's get you a hot shower, ok? Don't need you catching a cold, angel."

"Hmm, you know i'm far from an angel, but I will take the shower with you.” He closed the door as i took off my leather jacket and untied my combat boots, yanking them off and almost stumbling to the floor. He caught my shoulder and helped me straighten up.

"You good?"

I giggled. "Yeah, definitely." I took his hand and headed towards his bathroom. "C'mon Taeyong, I promised to make it worth your while didn't I?"

[sushigirlali]

“I miss you, but then i remember what an asshole you are and the feeling fades.” - Dramione 😘

Prompt: “I miss you, but then I remember what an asshole you are and the feeling fades.”

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Hermione Granger [Dramione]

Continuity: Post Epilogue AU

Rating: T+

A/N: I’m back on my Dramione bullshit thanks to my wifey, so here’s a quick drabble set after the DH Epilogue. This fic also takes Cursed Child into account, so Astoria has passed away and Rose, Scorpius, and Hugo are all at Hogwarts where my story picks up. Enjoy!

——————

For: @grlie-girl

Love: sushigirlali​

Life Goes On

——————

Reading the same paragraph for the fifth time in as many minutes, the Minister of Magic attempted to reconcile her feelings about the brief, yet life alternating, Ministry missive she’d received earlier this morning. It had taken her until lunch time to pluck up the courage to read it, and now that she had, Hermione felt conflicted.

On the one hand, she was glad to have one less thing to worry about with her reelection campaign coming up, not to mention her impending nuptials, but on the other, she knew this letter meant her life would never be the same. “But then, life goes on, I suppose.”

Giving the official looking piece of parchment a sad but relieved smile, Hermione set it aside moments before an urgent knock sounded at her office door. “Come in,” she called, composing her features in what she hoped was an authoritative air. “Parvati, do you have-oh! Draco!”

“Hey, lover,” Draco Malfoy sang as shut the door behind him. “This a good time?”

“I was just thinking about you, actually,” she beamed at the widower, springing up from her favorite wingback chair to greet him. “I’ve got a few minutes before Parvati arrives with my revised speech for Harry’s benefit next week.”

“Always working,” he tutted. “And here I was going to invite you to lunch.”

“Sorry,” she said sheepishly, “you know how it is.”

“I do,” he agreed, stopping less than a foot away from her. “Hi.”

“Hi,” she responded a little breathlessly. It had been nearly a fortnight since she’d seen him last and her Draco-starved senses were reeling. “How are you?”

“Better now,” he said, eyeing her conservative black robes and loose bun. “Did you wear those on purpose?”

“These old things?” Hermione indicated her plain outfit with an incredulous laugh.

“Those old things,” he purred, snaking an arm around her waist and pulling her flush against his chest. “Your ensemble reminds me of all the times I hid behind the library stacks and drooled over you at school.”

“You did not!”

“Believe me, love, I most certainly did.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “I guess I’ve finally discovered your secret kink, then: bookworms who can’t dress.”

“Absolutely,” he confirmed, “but only if the bookworm is you.”

“Okay, Romeo, cool your jets,” she replied, hands fluttering a little nervously against the front of his exquisitely tailored robes. “I need to tell you something before we lose our heads.”

“And here I thought you were good at multitasking,” he teased.

“Is that a challenge?” she said playfully, looking up at him from under her lashes.

“Definitely not,” Draco chuckled. “We both know I’m no match for you.”

“No?” Hermione brushed her lips against his despite herself. “Are you sure? Feels like we’re a pretty good match to me.”

“Hermione,” Draco muttered, “you were going to tell me something…” but he trailed off when she slipped her tongue into his mouth.

She’d never really thought of herself as a sexual person before Draco. She’d slept with Ron while they were together, sure, she had two kids to show for it, but sex was never central to their relationship. “Which is probably why we didn’t work out in the end,” Hermione mused. But things were different with Draco, and she couldn’t be more grateful.

“Was I?” she said coyly when they parted. “You’re much too distracting, Mr. Malfoy. I don’t know if I can concentrate long enough to tell you anything. Maybe we should kiss some more and see if it jog my memory.”

“You’re the one who’s distracting,” he accused, pressing his forehead to hers. “I couldn’t get you out of my head the entire time I was away.”

“Yeah?” she said playfully, butting her nose against his. “Did you think about me at night when you were all alone in your hotel room? I thought about you.”

Seemingly unable to help himself, Draco turned his head to capture her lips, murmuring, “Every night, baby. Every night,” between kisses. “Merlin, I’ve missed you.”

“Mmm, good,” she moaned, looping her arms around his neck as passion exploded between them once again. They’d been together for over a year, but kissing Draco felt like the first time, every time.

After separating from Ron a few years ago, she’d been reluctant to put herself out there again. She had her children to consider, along with her position at the Ministry, so it seemed more prudent to remain independent and unattached for a while. Still, she’d be lying if she said the sudden void in her life had been easy to fill.

Despite splitting from Ron under relatively amicable circumstances, the whole ordeal had put a strain on her relationship with the Weasleys, leading to intense loneliness on her part and apparent indifference on theirs. It was a shame, really, considering how many years they’d spent together as a family, but she tried not to be bitter about it for Rose and Hugo’s sake.

And then there was Draco. Her old Hogwarts rival had come up on her blindside last summer and they’d been inseparable ever since.

“Hermione,” Draco panted after a few tumultuous minutes, drawing away to catch his breath. “Not that I’m complaining, but what’s gotten into you?”

She’d been wondering the same thing just lately. Making out with her high-profile boyfriend in the middle of a work day when anyone could walk in on them was risky, but being with Draco made her feel brazen. “Can’t I just be excited to see you?” she said, nipping at his lower lip.

“Always,” he rumbled, distracted by her smart mouth. “Maybe I should go away on business more often, though,” he added huskily, “if this is how you’re going to welcome me back.”

“Oh? Were you out of town?” she joked, tugging on the soft white-blonde hairs at the back of his neck. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“Well, that would explain your lack of owls,” he said pointedly.

Hermione had the grace to look contrite. “Sorry about that. I’ve been so distracted with work lately and, well…”

“It’s alright, I know you miss me when I’m gone,” he said earnestly. Then, smirking, “I mean, otherwise, you’d just be using me for my wealth and status, not to mention my spectacular good looks and talent in the bedroom, and that would be beyond pathetic.”

Hermione pretended to contemplate his words. “Sure, I miss you,” she said with a straight face, “but then I remember what an asshole you are and the feeling fades.”

“Prat,” Draco said affectionately, hugging her close. “Now, out with it. What did you want to tell me?”

“Oh, nothing too important,” she said innocently, summoning the roll of parchment she’d been reading earlier off her desk. “Here, read this.”

Draco took the letter and carefully unrolled it. “Nothing too important?! Hermione, is this-?!”

“It is!” she affirmed as his pale eyes raced over the scroll. “I finally asked my solicitor to start divorce proceedings a few months ago, but it took a little longer than I expected since Ron and I had to work out a schedule for joint-custody first.”

Draco seemed overwhelmed when he looked up again. “But you’re free? You’re finally free?”

“As of this morning, yes.”

“I can’t believe it,” he whispered, setting the letter aside to cup her cheeks. “Are you okay? I know this is a big step.”

“I’ll always be a little sad that things ended the way they did with Ron, but I love you and want to spend the rest of my life with you,” she assured him. “What about you? Happy?”

“Ecstatic,” he smiled, kissing her again for emphasis.

“You can name the date then,” Hermione said, wiggling her sparkling ring finger.

Draco took her hand and kissed the stunning emerald and diamond engagement ring adoring her slim digit. He’d given her his mother’s ring on their six month anniversary and she’d never taken it off.

“How about tomorrow then? We could take a portkey over to Paris in the morning and be back before anyone’s the wiser,” he proposed.

“Isn’t that a little soon?” she said bemusedly. “You know our mothers are dying to plan a huge wedding.”

“They can still plan it, but I’ve been in love with you half my life and I don’t want to wait any longer to call you my wife.”

“Okay, Draco,” she said easily. It wasn’t a difficult decision to make; she didn’t want to wait either. “Tomorrow.”

“Really?” he said excitedly. “You’re sure? What about the kids? It’ll be Saturday, so we could swing by Hogwarts too.”

“I think Hugo’s still holding out hope that Ron and I will get back together one day, but you know Rose loves you,” she said reassuringly. “Will Scorpius be okay with us making it official?”

“Since Scorpius likes you more than me already, I think we’re covered on that front.” Draco paused. “Plus, it’ll do him good to have a mother again. He puts up a brave front, but I know he misses Astoria dreadfully.”

“You’ve done such a great job raising him, Draco, I know she’d be proud,” Hermione said sympathetically.

“Thanks,” he replied thickly.

“You’re welcome,” she beamed. “I love you and I can’t wait to marry you.”

“Yeah?” he grinned, reaching up to release her unruly hair from its haphazard bun. He liked to run his fingers through it while they made love. “Care to show me how much?”

“Oh, what the hell,” she said, using a quick locking spell on the door before pressing her lips to his once again. “We’re getting married tomorrow! Work can wait.”

-FIN-

——————

A/N: I’ve really missed this ship, so working on fics for them again has been fun! I just really love stupid bad boys falling for sassy good girls, okay?!

[krispyweiss]

The Live Music Year in Review

If live music is a drug, Sound Bites is a user and abuser. But, dang, a drug never felt so good and left so little damage (read: none) as live music.

The following are excerpts from the blog’s original reviews and do not include performances at the Nelsonville Music Festival, the Outlaw Music Festival and other difficult-to-encapsulate events.

That said, it’s a fair look at an exceptional year of concertgoing and one of the many things Sound Bites is grateful for in the year that was 2019. These sound bites (lower case) are listed in order of quality; parenthetical numerals indicate the number of times the blog’s seen the act.

A+

Los Lobos (18) at Music Box Supper Club, Cleveland, Ohio, March 1 - This was a band that wanted to be exactly where it was doing exactly what it was doing. And it showed in the music and the on-stage interaction, resulting in what was likely the best of the nearly 20 Los Lobos concerts Sound Bites has experienced since the early 1990s.

Los Lobos (19) at Rose Music Center at the Heights, Huber Heights, Ohio, July 23 - Los Lobos earned multiple standing ovations, created enough energy to make the half-full shed feel like a packed arena and proved once again why on any given night, this is the best live band in America.

Brian Wilson (2) at Rose Music Center at the Heights, Huber Heights, Ohio, Aug. 13 - Wilson’s performance of Pet Sounds and Beach Boys hits wasn’t perfect, yet it was sheer perfection. The concert humanized a musical god; it celebrated of the soundtrack of a generation; and it demonstrated the healing power of music, for both Wilson and his followers.

Wheels of Soul feat. Tedeschi Trucks Band (10), Blackberry Smoke and Shovels & Rope at Rose Music Center at the Heights, Huber Heights, Ohio, July 20 - Tedeschi Trucks Band proved the existence of life after death Saturday night, as the 12-piece killed with song after song after song and the audience came back with increasing enthusiasm each time. And while there is no denying the value in this packed night of music - which ran from 7 to 11 p.m. on a steamy, Southwestern Ohio night - it was the headliners that slayed listeners time and time again.

Livingston Taylor (2) at Thirty One West, Newark, Ohio, Dec. 6 - Livingston Taylor is as well-rounded an entertainer as anyone could ever hope to see, even if his relative obscurity meant only about 80 people turned out to see him put on an outrageously entertaining Friday-night show.

Marc Cohn feat. the Blind Boys of Alabama at Rose Music Center at the Heights, Huber Heights, Ohio, June 19 - Singing with their "Hebrew buddy" Marc Cohn, the Blind Boys of Alabama provided healing salve to the blues that immediately preceded and followed their joint set at the Rose Music Center at the Heights. The unexpected combo stole the night, an evening when Robert Cray was uncharacteristically tepid in his performance.

A

Punch Brothers (4) at Southern Theatre, Columbus, Ohio, March 20 - Even by the Punch Brothers' high standards, the band's March 20 show in Columbus was exceptional and featured a setlist that spurned esoterica for pure musicianship and songcraft. The precision in their performances continues to stagger, even more than a decade in to their career, as the band zigs and zags through various stylistic landscapes, stops on any number of onstage dimes, accelerates from zero to 60 in nanoseconds and demonstrates time and time again that intricate ensemble playing is typically much more effective than even the most evocative solo.

Todd Rundgren (39) at State Theatre, Cleveland, Ohio, May 6 - By the time he closed with “Just One Victory,” fans who had given sporadic standing ovations all evening had crowded up front for a chance to slap hands with their musical hero. Rundgren obliged. But even if he hadn’t, he’d already delivered.

Hot Tuna (Acoustic) (9) at Natalie's Coal Fired Pizza and Live Music, Worthington, Ohio, Nov. 5 - Some people say going to concerts is like going to church. Sometimes that church is a pizza shop. And the preachers are occasionally a couple of former psychedelic warriors and Woodstock veterans who have always been grizzled bluesmen at their core.

Darrell Scott (3) at Natalie's Coal Fired Pizza and Live Music, Worthington, Ohio, Sept. 29 - Accompanying himself on hollow-bodied electric guitar, six-string acoustic guitar and piano, Scott previewed tracks from the four albums, including a Hank Williams tribute, he's working on - "It sounds crazy, but it's just music," he said - sung Joe South's "Games People Play” and briefly turned the restaurant into a church.

Steep Canyon Rangers (8) at Midland Theatre, Newark, Ohio, Oct. 24 - To call the show lively would be an insult to the word, as the group moved on and off stage to play in various incarnations with members moving up front to solo and backing off to give their mates their own star turns.

Circles Around the Sun at Woodlands Tavern, Columbus, Ohio, June 11 - The band whipped out a nine-song, nearly two-hour performance that whizzed by in what seemed like 45 minutes as the quartet laid down thick grooves and the audience in the tight, well-sold space stomped around gleefully in them.

Lyle Lovett (4) and His Acoustic Group at Victoria Theatre, Dayton, Ohio, Oct. 18 - No matter whom he plays - Acoustic Group, Large Band, solo or acoustic with friends like Robert Earl Keen and Shawn Colvin - Lyle Lovett is always a wise ticket.

Todd Snider (11) at Speaker Jo Ann Davidson Theatre, Columbus, Ohio, April 10 - For 90 minutes, Snider played a career-spanning set that culled songs from 1994's Songs for the Daily Planet through this year's Cash Cabin Sessions, Vol. 3 and most of his other albums as well. The crowd was small but enthusiastic, singing loudly on old songs such as "Easy Money" and listening attentively to new ones such as "Watering Flowers in the Rain" and "Just Like Overnight."

The Larry Campbell & Teresa Williams (4) Band at Jorma Kaukonen's Fur Peace Ranch, Pomeroy, Ohio, April 13 - The Larry Campbell & Teresa Williams Band can play anything. And they played most of it during a knockout, two-hour show inside the Fur Peace Station. This was one of those concerts - a show rewarded with several standing ovations from the sold-out house as Campbell and Williams - with Williams’ parents on hand - covered the Carter Family (“I Ain’t Gonna Work Tomorrow”), Johnny Cash (“Big River”), traditional songs via the Grateful Dead (“Deep Elem Blues”) and performed originals from their two duo LPs as Jorma Kaukonen joined in for most of the second set.

Joan Osborne (3) at Memorial Hall OTR, Cincinnati, Ohio, Aug. 2 - For 95 minutes, Joan Osborne and her trio played tracks from Songs of Bob Dylan. But it was Osborne, whose voice ranges from soprano cries to deep-throated, bluesy wailing to tender and cracking in a girlish way, who made them work. "Buckets of Rain" was the little girl; "Highway 61 Revisited" was the brassy blues singer. Meanwhile, "You Ain't Goin' Nowhere" was a rest on a front-porch swing and "Tangled up in Blue" was a walk through a lifetime - either Dylan's or Osborne's.

Grateful Ball Featuring the Travelin’ McCourys (2) and the Jeff Austin Band at Woodlands Tavern, Columbus, Ohio, Jan. 27 - Bluegrass meets jamgrass meets psychedelic rock ‘n’ roll when the Travelin’ McCourys and the Jeff Austin Band get together for a Grateful Ball. Playing alone and together, the bands treated the sold-out bar to more than three hours of exhilarating, Sunday-night roots music that bled into early Monday morning.

Leo Kottke (5) at Thirty One West, Newark, Ohio, April 21 - Leo Kottke held the audience at in rapt silence as he demonstrated what an acoustic guitar - two, actually; a 12-string and a six-string - can sound like in the right hands. And in Kotte's hands, the guitar can sound like a bass, a dulcimer and multiple guitars all at the same time.

Dom Flemons Woodlands Tavern, Columbus, Ohio, Nov. 23 - Touring behind his Black Cowboys LP, the bespectacled Flemons looked as if he’d just walked off the ranch with a hat, suspenders holding up his blue work pants and a pocket watch on a gold chain. The former Carolina Chocolate Drop, known as "the American Songster," was the consummate entertainer and played in the style of De Ole Folks at Home-era Taj Mahal.

A-

John Oates with the Good Road Band at Victoria Theatre, Dayton, Ohio, Jan. 15 - A blind person attending this show would have spent most of the 110 minutes not realizing this was the same John Oates who is most famous for playing pop music with Daryl Hall. This was music culled mostly from the first half of the 20th century, when blues, country and jazz were still a melting pot of Americana and hadn't yet separated and led to rock 'n' roll.

Crash Test Dummies (2) at Memorial Hall OTR, Cincinnati, Ohio, Sept. 21 - On the road celebrating 25 years of God Shuffled His Feet, four of the five original band members played 10 of God's dozen tracks and offered others from 1991’s The Ghosts that Haunt Me through 2010’s Ooh La La!

Jeff Lynne's ELO at Nationwide Arena, Columbus, Ohio, July 30 - Jeff Lynne's ELO ended the show where the former Electric Light Orchestra's career began to take off, playing a rambunctious version of "Roll Over Beethoven" - replete with its quotations of the composer's famous 5th symphony found on ELO 2 - and wrapping a night full of highlights with one of the brightest of all.

Lake Street Dive (2) and the Wood Brothers (7) at Fraze Pavilion, Kettering, Ohio, June 15 - Though they’re a disparate pair, Lake Street Dive and the Wood Brothers displayed shocking congruity during sit-ins and while playing alone across their rain-soaked, co-headlining sets.

Dead & Company (8) at Rouff Home Mortgage Music Center, Noblesville, Ind., June 12 - Like a young relative you see only occasionally, Dead & Company seems grow by leaps & bounds in between its annual summer tours.

Chicago (13) at Rose Music Center at the Heights, Huber Heights, Ohio, May 5- Down to three original members in keyboardist/guitarist/vocalist Robert Lamb, trombonist James Pankow and trumpeter/vocalist Lee Loughnane, the recently expanded, 10-man Chicago recreated the original septet’s sound via standout performances by all as they focused mostly on their first decade of recorded music.

Nick Mason's Saucerful of Secrets at Palace Theatre, Columbus, Ohio, April 7- For 110 minutes, the former Floyd drummer and his outstanding band plumbed the early-Pink discography, plucking songs from every album (except Ummagumma) from 1967's the Piper at the Gates of Dawn to 1972's Obscured by Clouds. These weren’t covers so much as interpretations and the band gave the music enough of a contemporary nudge to keep it from sounding too dated.

It Was 50 Years Ago Today at Akron Civic Theatre, Akron, Ohio, Sept. 28 - The Fab Faux Five consisted of a Utopian (Todd Rundgren), a Monkee (Micky Dolenz) with a Badfinger (Joey Molland), a dude from Chicago (Jason Scheff) and Christopher Cross. Motley and, unbelievably, well-matched, the group was backed by a stellar four-piece band who provided essential vocal backing and played synths, keys, drums, guitars, harmonica and bass as needed. They didn’t get a break, while the stars spent little time on stage all together (now), instead coming and going to play 23 of the Beatles' 30 tracks and two solo/band songs apiece.

Bob Dylan (12) and His Band at Mershon Auditorium, Columbus, Ohio, Nov. 4 - Never one to stand still or rest on his legacy, Dylan starts futzing with songs almost as soon as he commits them to tape and continues to do so basically forever.

Chris Smither and Sierra Hull at Jorma Kaukonen's Fur Peace Ranch, Pomeroy, Ohio, Sept. 7, 2019 - Chris Smither mic'd his boots, played bottom-string-heavy, country blues on his acoustic guitar and solicited a lot of laughter. Sierra Hull played mandolin, octave mandolin and guitar and was mostly serious, eliciting a few gasps of disbelief.

B+

Bruce Hornsby (10) & the Noisemakers at Rose Music Center at the Heights, Huber Heights, Ohio, July 16 - Though the Rose's sound system was typically muddy and Hornsby and company seemed to be at about 88 percent of their capability, they shouldn't have been opening for Amos Lee, whose mix of soulless soul and funk that wasn't funky caused dozens of Hornsby partisans - Sound Bites included - to bail after four songs.

Bob Seger & the Silver Bullet Band (3) at Nationwide Arena, Columbus, Ohio, Jan. 19 - The show came 18 months after back issues forced a last-minute postponement of his previously scheduled Columbus show - and eventually, his entire 2017 tour. And though Seger was noticeably less powerful than he was during his 2015 visit, he was also was visibly happy to be performing on what he says will be his final outing.

Mark Lanegan Band at MAPFRE Stadium, Columbus, Ohio, May 18 - Sound Bites ducked in and out of Sonic Temple Day 2 to see Lanegan after scoring a $1 dollar ticket. A $25 parking spot and a bottle of water priced at $5.50 negated some of the value, but Lanegan’s nine-song set was worth every dollar and every hassle to get inside the sold-out soccer stadium for his 35 minutes of stage time.

B

Bob Weir and Wolf Bros at Taft Theatre, Cincinnati, Ohio, March 6 - This Bob Weir and Wolf Bros performance is best described as a solid, Weir-led Grateful Dead spin-off show that was more successful than RatDog in its later years, but much less exciting than Bob Weir & the Campfire Band.

Rory Block and Cindy Cashdollar at Jorma Kaukonen's Fur Peace Ranch, Pomeroy, Ohio, Oct. 19 - A show that reached its apex - and potential - late.

B-

The Richie Furay (2) Band at Jorma Kaukonen's Fur Peace Ranch, Pomeroy, Ohio, Aug. 10 - With his voice in sick bay, Furay didn't even attempt his signature songs, "Nowadays Clancy Can't Even Sing," which would have seemed too ironic, and "Kind Woman," which he couldn't have pulled off in his diminished state.

Funky Feat at Jorma Kaukonen’s Fur Peace Ranch, Pomeroy, Ohio, June 16 - Ultimately, Funky Feat provided an opportunity for Little Feat fans to hear the music they love played by some of those who made it - and that makes the group a worthwhile endeavor. But folks unfamiliar with Feat’s music should turn to the original recordings for their primary education.

Experience Hendrix at Taft Theatre, Cincinnati, Ohio, March 17 - There's no shame in being unable to play like Hendrix. And most of the performers were unable to muster what was needed to make covering him for more than 180 minutes worthwhile. But the exceptions - including Zakk Wylde, Eric Johnson, Mark Nanji and Doyle Bramhall II - were exceptional.

Martin Barre (3) at Athenaeum Theatre, Columbus, Ohio, May 8 - Narrated by a disembodied voice that was piped in every few songs to tell the story of Jethro Tull's evolution, the concert was a little too contrived for its own good.

C+

Elizabeth Cook (4) and Will Hoge at Natalie's Coal Fired Pizza & Live Music, Worthington, Ohio, Oct. 30 - Each performer played 50 minutes; too long for Hoge and too short for Cook, who seemed like she wanted to be anywhere but on stage.

C

Blues Traveler at Columbus Commons, Columbus, Ohio, May 17 - The free concert had its moments. And the tickets were worth every penny.

12/18/19

[baritonetcc]

Talent

I can’t believe where I am, I look like a protagonist of a cliche anime scene. Allergy-inducing blossoms and buds rain down around me, in a slow breeze, so more like a caramel rain. My only ride is running late, so I’m forced to remain on school grounds past my scheduled time of death. The school courtyard is empty, since school has been out for long enough for the buses to leave, and athletes were changing for sports practice. I’m sitting under a tree, finishing up a book that I stole from my English teacher’s shelf (thanks, Mr. Bradner). Oh hey, speaking of Mr. Bradner, I should go hang out in his room. The breeze is blowing majestic fronds into my not-so-majestic hair and mouth, so an empty classroom would be a nice chance of pace. I’m sure Savannah has stopped annoying him by now and pissed off to whatever hellhole she crawled out of.

I’m walking up to the building where Mr. Bradner’s room is, and Andrew Pratt bursts out of the doors, clearly late for track practice. 

“Where have you been, Tommie? I’ve been looking for you forever! I’ve been wanting to ask you something.”

Oh boy, here we go with his questions. If he asks me for answers for the math review again I swear-

“So some of the band members have been wanting to perform in an ensemble for the talent show, a big band. We wanted to play ‘Feel The Love Go’ by Franz Ferdinand, and we need someone to play the alto solo...?”

He knows that I’m going to say yes, doesn’t he. He couldn’t have asked any other alto sax player? He couldn’t have had another instrument play it? I think it would be really cool on piano. 

Thinking that I wasn’t getting the hint he continued, “So would you be interested in it? We really wanted to give it to you...”

I finally open my mouth, knowing that Andrew’s coach is going to murder him. “Sure. Text me when you can, now go to practice.”

Andrew is so good at life. He gets along with his family, he has an amazing dog, he’s a great trombone player, and he’s a track star. I wish he was better at managing his time.

I sink into a desk in Mr. Bradner’s room, where he’s correcting papers. He likes to work until he’s done with whatever task he assigns himself before going home, so I don’t say much. I go through the tasks I have written in my planner, and it’s quite bare, more than usual. I occasionally look up to see Mr. Bradner scowling at someone’s chicken scratch, or whoever’s in the hallway. Hey. Mr. Heser’s walking by. Eventually, my phone buzzes with a text. 

Andrew P(rat)t: Kyre has all the music for the group, u should go take a look ok?

What a slacker, I hope he trips because he was texting me instead of tying his shoes. I gather my things and head down to the band hall, where Mrs. Kyre resides. I get to thinking about the important questions. Who else is in the group? Why can’t I just NOT be in the talent show? I was hoping I could spend the rest of the year taking it easy, without having to worry about the talent show in June. I find myself in the band room, where Mrs. Kyre conveniently remembers to hand me the music upon seeing me. Andrew set me up for this. I whip up my hair and bust out my saxophone. I stay in the actual band room, since it’s not being used and I’d rather not lock myself in a practice room. I glance at the clock while wrestling the ligature onto the mouthpiece. I can’t believe it’s already almost four, I should’ve just walked home. I warm up quickly, look through the music, and begin trying it. Whoever wrote this isn’t half bad at transcribing, and they thankfully took mercy on the alto saxes. It was probably one of Andrew’s nerdy friends. Wait. I’m one of his nerdy friends. 

I dig into the piece, and I get into the solo part. I honk my soul out with the epicness that Adolf Sax couldn’t even begin to imagine, when I see someone walk in out of the corner of my eye. I’ve never sightread this well in my entire life before. Hell yeah, check out this badassery, Mrs. Kyre! And then I realize it’s not Mrs. Kyre. It’s Miss Avery. In that moment, I forget what key signature I’m in. I don’t know what measure I’m on. I forget how to finger any of these notes. What’s a note? I hopelessly squeak a half-assed attempt at the rhythm written on the page, then stop because I think my ears have actually fallen off.

Miss Avery smiles at me. Of course she does. She doesn’t know half of the effect she has on me. I try to talk to her, but all the words stick to my throat on the way up. Oh, and my saxophone is still in my mouth.

“Wow, that’s some real nice stuff there. You’re so into your whole band thing. I love it.”

I know she’s lying. That was the worst sound I’ve heard since hearing someone MacGyver a thick layer of aluminum foil in between the rollers of a Polaroid camera, then threw it at a running band saw when the shop teacher walked by. I didn’t even know my instrument could make such racket.

“Thanks, Miss. Are you looking for Mrs. Kyre?”

“Yeah, actually. Oh, there she is.”

Miss Avery and Mrs. Kyre set to getting completely distracted with whatever they talk about, and I get through the rest of the song.

I can’t believe I’m in Andrew’s living room with my saxophone. Honestly, it’s kind of cozy though. All of us practicing together, on these nice pillows and not in the band room. The entire way here, I complained to my friends via text about going to Andrew’s house, but I’m enjoying myself more than I made it seem. It’s a nice tone overall, and it’s a nice change since our drummer isn’t here. It’s a calm and quiet evening, and some jazzy tunes makes it powerful. His mom also makes otherworldly cupcakes. They don’t even have frosting or anything, but they taste like a sweet, buttery blanket of the warmth of innocence. It’s a week before the final show, and we’re really just working on dynamics and expression to really nail the song. Since it’s so close to the show, there’s been a lot of hype. Miss Avery asked me if I was going to see the talent show. I really wanted to surprise her, so I told her I was going, rather than informing her that I was in it, like the good child I usually am.

It’s the night of the show. I’m standing offstage in my snazzy tux (thanks, Andrew’s mom) and holding my saxophone. I usually don’t wear anything like this, which is why I’m borrowing something that Andrew’s mom pulled out of his closet from a couple years ago. He’s tall and skinny, so I didn’t have to steal anything recent from him. Last minute, we figured the stage would be blazing by the time we got on, so we ditched our jackets. The sleeves of my stark white shirt are neatly rolled up, and it’s not a bad look for me. This shirt fits surprisingly well, with the buttons over my chest doing their job, even if Andrew is a stick compared to me. Apparently, one of the trumpet players had a problem with the fact that she wore her nice diamond earrings, and I wore purple gauges. I can’t wait until she finds out that they glow in the dark. They match the album cover of the song we’re playing, so I think I win here.

I peek around the curtain, since nobody really cares at this point. The theatre’s seats are filling in with equal amounts of snickering teenagers and parents with genuine concern for our generation. I silently thank them as my eyes wander. Our theatre has planetarium-style lighting, along with the typical lights lining the wall. It’s calming to see all the bustling shadows of people finding a place to sit. I look up towards the back, and see Miss Avery coming in. She seems like she’s in a rush, and she’s looking around frantically. I dismiss the idea that she’s looking for me...but, is she? She spots a group of other teachers and they wave her over. Probably not, then. 

A couple kids eventually take the stage to thank everyone for coming, and begin intoducing the acts. I suck on my reed absentmindedly.

There’s a few dance groups, which were definitely all entertaining. Someone did a backflip off of a chair. There’s a lot of people who sing, including Savannah, who sang some basic, repetitive pop song. The musical acts are impressive, but maybe I’m just biased. Finally, the curtains close, to open for one last time. A bored looking junior steps on with a microphone, telling the theatre, “The last, but not least act we have is a band ensemble. They will be performing ‘Feeling Love Go’ by Fronz Ferdindand.” Whatever, close enough. “The group consists of various members of our school’s band, and features a saxophone solo, played by Tommie Byers.” That’s me. 

We hurry to get all of our equipment on stage. The most terrifying part was Talon’s fancy Moog keyboard setup, and making sure we were all in the right place. As we’re setting up, ‘Paper Cages’ plays. I’m wondering who’s responsible for shoving Franz Ferdinand down everybody’s throats. It’s probably the drummer. Our bari saxes conveniently bump their stands together, knocking over their music. I stand in my assigned spot perfectly, and the curtain opens. I haven’t even thought about Miss Avery again until now. Did she enjoy the rest of the show? Has she already gotten up to leave early? Once my sight adjusts to the dark sea of humans, I find her, with her eyes trained on the stage. 

The song kicks in, starting with just the rhythm section. The winds then pick up on the melody, and the guitarist strums out funky chords. Talon and his brother work magic on the keyboards. The brass delivers a bright punch, lead by Andrew. I swell with anticipation as I feel my solo come up. For some reason, I look right at Miss Avery, who has no idea what’s going to hit her. I wink. God, that was probably so cringe-worthy. I bust into my solo, starting small at first. Then I’m out there, jumping the octave, and tonguing some banging rhythms. The winds start doing this siren sounding pattern to fill in. Am I dancing? Oh God, I’m dancing. I kick out my legs and do that weird swinging squat swing like every dramatic sax player does. The brass kicks out, except for one trumpet, which follows the siren action. My solo ends after some dizzying sixteenth notes, and I’m still swayed by the music. The rhythm section continues the ride with the winds, until the song ends on a kind of questioning note, almost as if we are prompting the audience to react with whatever they were holding in the whole time.

Everybody loses it, maybe because it’s just the last show and they want to go home. All the show’s participants rejoin on the stage for pictures and such. Some kids were getting flowers from friends and family. I run down into the rapidly emptying theatre, still huffing, still red from the lights, and still holding my saxophone. My neck strap digs into my skin, as I chase after Miss Avery. We make eye contact, and she grins at me. 

“So, what did you think?” “What did I think? Well, I didn’t! That was awesome, kid! When you stepped up with that solo, my mind was blown. You did great up there, and I’m sure every person in this room enjoyed it!”

“Oh, thanks! I...I worked really hard on it, and it was really fun, actually.” “You don’t have to say that, I think we alllll knew how much fun you were having up there,” at this point, Talon’s younger brother came to retrieve my awkwardly dangling saxophone, “and I had no idea! How come you never told me that you guys were getting together to do this?”

I chuckled, “Well, I didn’t know I was supposed to.”

“That was amazing, and I’ve never seen you like that before. Come here!”

Before I know it, her arms are around me. I can’t imagine that it’s pleasant to hug a musician so passionately right after their performance, but my endorphins don’t care. Miss Avery gets a parent to take a picture of us together, and my new lock screen is Miss Avery with her arm around me in front of the stage. I’m still wearing my neck strap.

[traveling-couch-potato]

Puerto Rico Day 9

It’s finally here! HAMILTON DAY!!!! We wanted to do a whole day dedicated to the show but couldn’t fit it all in. We started off with breakfast at La Bombonera in Old San Juan for some Mallorcas (recommendation of Lin-Manuel Miranda himself...via his Twitter). So good. It’s the love child of a donut and croissant if the donut took a more dominant role. It’s sprinkled with powdered sugar and filled with a fried egg, melty swiss, and thin slices of ham.

Puerto Rico is all about those sweet/savory combos and I am here for it!

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The festival wasn’t in full swing yet so we decided to do a bit of a morning walk to the Puerta de San Juan where we entered Paseo del Morro. It’s a gorgeous path along the base of the Castillo San Felipe del Morro right along the water. You get a great view of the giant waves crashing into the rocks on one side and the towering wall structures to the right. 

Leaving through the Puerta de San Juan gate!

The path was full of cats. Literally anywhere you look there’s a cat. There’s feeding stations run by the Save-a-Gato organization which is why all the cats like to gather here.

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Once we finished up the walk we had a lovely chat with another visiting girl (and fellow Hamilton-fan) before we finally regained enough energy to officially enter the grounds of the San Sebastian Street Festival. We started off near the market centers around the Plaza del Quinto Centenario. Tio Danny had a booth set up so we picked up a Maduro (Beef/Plantain Empanadilla) and walked through some of the stalls which featured a ton of local Puerto Rican artists selling everything from painted gourds to pressed flowers to sweets. I’m not much for knick knacks and jewelry but food always calls to me especially if I have no clue what it is. This meant my 2nd purchase of the day was a tiny container of Majarete. It tasted like a blended rice pudding (though it’s apparently made with rice flour) with your typically cinnamon notes but a nice underlying coconut flavor as well. It was extremely viscous so the tiny cup was the perfect size.

The first of many street food snacks courtesy of the San Sebastian Street Festival.

We continued walking until we hit a street lined with Bounty sponsored booths. Angel still hasn’t had a chance to try one of my favorite Puerto Rican foods, Bacalaito, so we had to order one and it was GIGANTIC. This one was more crunchy and flat than my previous one, almost like a fried cracker/pancake crossbreed. But of course I also needed to try something new so a few booths down I pointed at the first item I didn’t know. I ended up with a cup of Sorulittos de Maiz. Basically corn fries. They basically taste like corn meal fries (because that’s what they are). Or corn puffs that were never fully dehydrated. Like every other item here, it was served w/ a side of Mayoketchup. 

Fried foods galore! So good but so bad for you (not that that matters when I’m on vacation!)

Some of the sweets I bought from one of the stalls. They have a ton of lollipops and these coconut/fruit combo bite things (that I clearly don’t know the name of).

We spent a bit more time wandering the festival browsing booths and enjoying the music before we headed out. Of course we needed dessert though so we may a quick trip to Chocobar Cortes so I could get a proper chocolate tasting. I got their Spiced Chocolate (Anise/Cinammon) and one of their Hazelnut. It’s pricey at about $2.50 a pop but it’s worth the occasional indulgence

The day portion of the festival is very family friendly w/ parades (main one was at 5pm on Thursday though you can catch smaller privately organized ones at random unscheduled times), giant head displays, and tons of music.

Tons of live music all around the entire city.

Sad we were gonna miss the parade, but a nice marcher asked us if we want a pic and of course we couldn’t say no.

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After so much food we decided to make the 2 mile trek back to our hotel by foot. On the way we passed by the San Juan capital and decided to take a look around. No line or entrance fee, just a quick security check. The center of the building is gorgeous and although the displays in the building were all in Spanish, it was a nice pitstop.

The center of the building sports this beautifully intricate high ceiling. Pictures absolutely don’t do it justice.

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Once we got back to the hotel, we got ready for our night out to the greatest show in the world: HAMILTON!!! First we had to stop by another restaurant Ricky/Florin recommended to us (along w/ the rest of the internet): Santaella. They do take reservations through Opentable and I would highly recommend it. They place can get very busy depending on your luck. The restaurant itself is gorgeous w/ antique style filament lightbulbs lining the ceilings and a lit tropical plant display window on the back wall. Their food was a bit more American/French w/ a Puerto Rican influence but at this point I was craving a taste of home and welcomed the familiar menu. It is a classier place so no tap, but still water is available at $2.50/person which is more reasonable than other high end restaurants I’ve visited.

Gorgeous restaurant interior. Definitely a slightly dressy place, perfect for a pre-show meal (though service is a bit slow so make sure you have enough time).

We started our meal w/ the Foie Gras Terrine which was served over a fruit jam (I believe guava) and a fresh mini baguette that spouted steam as soon as we snapped it in half. The terrine had a uniform creaminess offset by some roasted pinenuts. The salty and fatty flavors of the foie gras were nicely balanced by the jam too. For our mains my friend got the Veal Cheeks w/ Creole Fricasse and Root Veggie Puree and I got the Marinated Skirt Steak w/ Malanga Shoestring fries. The veal was practically spoonable and the veggie puree had an almost cheesy flavor. Otherwise it was like a very well-made beef stew. The skirt steak was quite tender for such a cheap cut of meat and the marinade was nicely caramelized which brought out a delicious charred sweetness. It was topped w/ a pickled chimichurri that gave my mouth a much needed break cause the meat portion was HUGE. Seriously a delicious meal and I can see why Ricky/Florin would give it the thumbs up

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With our bellies full and our wallets empty, we made the 10 minute walk over to the Luis A. Ferre Theater. Picked up our tickets (which I was freaking out about because the email stated you needed the original purchase card which I forgot), got in line, and got to our seats. Not the best seats since the side overlook obstructed my view slightly but I am infinitely thankful to have been in the room where it happens.

This part is less travel-bloggy and more Hamilton-fanny but this is more or less my diary so who cares. I didn’t think I’d cry too hard. I’ve seen the show 3 times, met Lin, met his family, listened to the soundtrack a million times, I’ve been there done that, but absolutely not, as soon as he walks out I start sobbing. I felt my face scrunch up and tears well up in my eyes as my hero took the stage. The entire crowd cheered and rawred for a solid 2-3 minutes. My voice was still raspy from the cold but I tried anyway. The entire cast is wonderful and I am so ecstatic about seeing them again in San Francisco next month. After the show we booked it to the stagedoor. I’m tagging this post w/ Hamilton so hopefully someone will see this LIN DOES NOT STAGEDOOR. The three Schuyler sisters did though as well as a member of the ensemble. They were all such sweet people and while I hoped to save my $10 bill for Lin to sign, I felt it was appropriate to get it autographed at the last show he’ll ever perform as Hamilton. 

We met some really cool fellow Hamilton fans at the stagedoor (shoutout to my new friend Alicia!) and ended the night with a very interesting conversation with an Usher about the political climate in Puerto Rico among other serious topics. We didn’t end up leaving until past midnight. I’m so fortunate to have been in the crowd to see one of Lin’s last performances.

Tips in case any Hamilton folks finds this post: 1) There are quite a few extra seats. Due to some political stuff, the venue changed and seats were reassigned. Since the new venue is larger, that means there’s a decent number of empty seats.

2) To get the seats just show up at the theater. On our 7:30pm performance night, I met 2 women who got in that started waiting at 4pm. Though they said there were people since 6am.

3) Ticket prices range and it’s easier to get a spot if you’re a single viewer. Also don’t forget the lotto!

4) GOOD LUCK! I hope someone gets to see this and takes a chance at those day of tickets. (Seriously you have a good chance, I met ~10 people this trip that got day of tickets)

[jhessail]

Oh look, an actual attempt to start a novel.

Chapter I

Shadow

Several men looked up as the door to the saloon slammed open, hitting the walls with a threatening sound. Tension built upon the shoulders of the well lived gunmen, while the bar wenches scoffed at what was surely showmanship of power. However to the surprise of many what stood in front of the open spot was a blonde woman, who stared into the saloon with her hands partly up.

“S-sorry!” The blonde spoke up, walking in before the swinging doors could close up on her. Most men relaxed, some noted however that the woman had a blinding silver chain wrapped around her waist. The blonde awkwardly bowed, apologizing to those who still stared at her for disturbing the peace.

She was well-fed with her well-rounded features and dressed as a cowboy despite her gender, her shades of cloth were an odd color as well. Black as the night without stars. She also wore a long cloak that was the same color with it, the ensemble coming across like an outlaw. She eventually made it to the bar, swinging her body to sit down at a stool.

Despite the eyes on her she gave the barkeeper a sharp grin and opened her mouth, “I’ve got an odd request for you sir.” The owner of the saloon, Ivan, rose his eyebrow sharply, he was used to getting mouth by women as above his saloon was an eager brothel, but a woman dressed as a cowboy was such an absurd sight even he was a little taken aback.

“Yes?” His accent thick and heavy, most had a hard time understanding him. Not much of a surprise as he was from a land far colder than the desert at night.

“Do you sell goat’s milk?” If the human body was capable of having a prat fall without injuring itself, there would be many men and women on the ground in exaggeration to the absurdity of the request.

“This is not mountain land.” Ivan voiced as attention of the bar shifted to the two, focusing on the conversation. He cleared his throat, a heavy and shuddering sound, “What do you need with milk?” He asked, his back leg ready to step away if he needed to at any time. The only time he was fine with being the focus of the room was when someone rowdy ordered drinks for everyone.

“Goat’s milk sir,” she emphasized, “and that kind of thing is my business, isn’t it?” She gave him a friendly wink and a tension filled the bar. It was impossible for the human tongue to directly lie, so when a stranger came with an odd request, dressed oddly, and no intention to speak of their reasons, it put the people on their tightest guard.

The women seemed to sense the tension in the air because she turned to the many guests of the saloon, seeing a few reaching for the rope they held tied to their side. For a split moment, quicker than a man’s spit at a jug, her eyes seemed to flash a different color. One man immediately reacted,

“Her eyes!” Then he threw rope around her. She shrieked in surprise as others rounded up around her, covering her to completely bind her.

“Hold her down!” One of the men shouted. In response, they slammed her body to the hard floor, which she grunted loudly in pain.

“What are you doing? Stop this!” She was entirely binded and she coughed and sputtered when water poured all over her head, almost drowning her. They all glared down at her, watching for any other reaction then her pitiful muttering.

“She might not be a demon.”

“I could have told you that!” She yelled immediately, glaring at her captors.

“Whaddya need goat’s milk for then?” She flinched as she got punched by another man above her. She glared up at her punisher with disdain then faced her interrogator.

“What’s it matter to you!?” She got punched in the face again, “DAMN!” She yelled, blood dripping from the edge of her mouth. “That hurt!”

“Speak stranger!” The woman purposely hid her lips, her cheeks puffing out obnoxiously. “Micheal get some holy water.” The interrogator demanded. Michael moved out of the woman’s sight, presumably to his task.

“I just like goat’s milk okay!?” The woman shrieked, one of her legs twitching in an attempt to flail in irritation. “Why are you acting like it’s such a big deal?”

“You’re the one who made it a big deal.” Michael came back and handed her interrogator a bottle of glowing liquid. The man put his finger in the bottle, flinching as the dirt around his worn callused finger cleared away in a manner resembling electricity and he smeared the glow over the young woman’s lips.

The group of men glared, waiting for any kind of reaction. They were mostly used to smoke rising from those marked by a demon, but holy water could show any kind of disguise in any way. The wildest reaction any one of them had saw was someone bursting into a blue fire that melted into the depths of the ground. The only thing they got from this was the woman continuing to glare at them.  The tension didn’t leave until the saloon doors creaked open, everyone’s attention flared to the new person.

“What in all manner of Holy is going on here?” An older gentlemen dressed finely was the speaker. His clothes resembled a long priest robe, with the exception of being white and the cassock that would normally be wrapped around the neck was instead a star pinned like a choker.

“Sheriff!”

“We thought we may have gotten us a demon.”

“I’m not!” The sheriff moved to the small mob surrounding the bound woman, a few men departing to let him enter the circle.

“What is your name?” The man asked, bending down the girl with still glowing lips, the holy water would take a while to clear. Her eyes darted away from his face, and he grasped her cheeks harshly, forcing her neck to bend and stretch to directly face him. She hissed in pain as the back of her skull dug into the hard floors as he kept pushing and stretching her neck. “Your name?”

“Call me Eli.” She hissed out, her lips looking terribly enticing with that glow around them. He crushed her cheeks in response, an uncomfortable and painful noise emitted immediately.

“That’s a man’s name girl.” Rage laced every syllable of his sentence. His fingers came closer, her skin the only barrier between them. Her leg kicked out again, pathetic noises crawled out from her lips and nose as he kept squashing her face. His fingers loosened as soon as he saw a sliver of a teardrop from the edges of her eyes. “Is it short for something?” Eli took a deep breath, her tongue darting to the sides of her cheeks as to assuage the pain a little. “Answer me.” His hand hovered close to her face and she gave him an icy glare.

“Eli is one of my names.”

“A woman has no need for more than one name!” One of the mob man yelled, angry at the stranger. It was a man’s given right to have more than one name, a woman should only have their True Name and nothing else. Eli’s face grew blank, her eyes shrank to match and give the expression of true neutrality.

“Your True Name.” The Sheriff asked, a threatening layer laced within each world. Eli closed her eyes and then she sighed. Her whole body shook with her sigh and the air started to feel heavy. Many looked around, feeling like the desert abruptly wrapped them with humidity, and saw nothing. The doors of the saloon opened up once more,

“Sheriff Rocher! The coyotes are back!” Sheriff Rocher cursed underneath his breath and glared down at the stranger with a man’s name.

“Thaddeus,” an older man who worked the hardest when he was ranching, “put her in the demon cell, better safe than sorry.” Sheriff Rocher stood up and adjusted the star against this neck. “I’ll take care of the coyotes and we’ll figure you out later.” He turned and left the saloon, the sound of sharp metal teeth whirling in a circle echoing as soon as his figure faded.

They kicked Eli up, pushing and tugging her out of the saloon after waiting a few minutes, giving the sheriff time to deal with the coyotes. Eli kept silent as they kicked and spat cruel names at her, making their way to the sheriff’s office. A magnificent church stood out gloriously, broadcasting it as the main feature of the town.

Thaddeus and the three other men that came with stared at her harshly, expecting a reaction as she stepped on the holy ground. They were all still convinced, regardless of all the opposing proofs. There was no way that a woman with more than her True Name could be anything else but a demon. No reaction happened as Thaddeus led her deep into the church, and then shoving her roughly into a dug up jail cell.

She hit the dirt harshly, and the only light in this underground burial chamber was from a giant pentagram she lay in the center of.

“We’ll be back, you wench.”

“Hope you don’t die before then.” The four men shared a chuckle and shut the trapdoor harshly, the air within the chamber feeling like it cut off. Eli stayed on the ground, eyeing the dirt roof above her, the pentagram’s light was bright enough to give detail of the painful amount of work that went into digging this chamber. Wood beams held up parts of dirt to prevent collapsing and for the talismans that hung above it.

Eli continued to stare, her eyes reading each talisman as though she held them in her hand. Protection charms, binding charms, teleporta- wait, why was that here? The young woman took a deep breath, and then jumped to her feet, the ropes that tightly bound her arms and legs fell effortlessly.

“Not much for advancement this town.” Eli remarked lightly, her shoulders shrugging as she threw her arms up. “I’ll make sure to mark this as a ‘Never come back’ town after we finish this job.” Eli squat down to the pentagram, studying the light and the shape closely. “Yeah, I’ll admit, I haven’t seen this shape before, so I guess they could have some techniques.” Eli spoke as though she was talking to someone else.

The blonde then jumped up in the air effortlessly, and grasped the talisman for teleportation. She studied it harshly, her fingers tracing the heavy ink and unknown language. A few minutes passed before she spoke again, “Ugh, of course.” She paused, as though listening to someone speak to her about her tone, “Well this is useless.” The young woman tore the talisman easily, then she jumped as she remembered something. She smeared the holy water on her lips against her jacket roughly, flinching harshly as static electricity attacked her with every wipe.

With a final harsh rub, she put her sleeve down, a visible spark of white struck the air. “I’m not going to be able to taste anything right for the next few weeks,” Eli lamented miserably. The young woman tilted her head lightly, listening to something and then she nodded. “Right, right.” Eli walked to the ladder, staring for a moment to see red paint on the steps. Ah stronger symbols of bane, that made sense.

She effortlessly ignored them, climbing up on the ladder and up to the trapdoor. Easily she pushed it out, the light of the building temporarily blinding her. She adjusted and exited the demon’s cell, closing the door and watching it meld with the floor. Neat. Eli stood up, scratching her head underneath her dark hat. “I know, I know!” She spat out, turning around to face several men. She threw up her hands immediately, a stiff nervous smile creeping upon her face. “I’ve got all the luck in the world.” She muttered to herself.

“How did you get out of there?”

“I don’t know, maybe it’s because I’m human? Like I’ve been saying?” She remarked harshly. The guards and Eli jumped a little as the loud sound of the familiar weapon of the age, the chainsaw, entered the building loudly. The sheriff must have finished his task with the coyotes.

He was much more opposing with blood all over his robes, and his weapon in hand, which he did hold with only one hand, it resembled more of a buzzsaw with its oversized circular blade but the bulging gas storage connected to it and the chain buzzing around the outside of the blade classified it as a chainsaw.

The sheriff saw the scene from even as far as he was at the entrance, and he sauntered down the long walkway. He stopped thirty feet away, the sound of his chainsaw overriding all normal noise. He rose his voice to become loud and booming, a practiced expression of the art of talking that any chainsaw wielder needed to conquer,

“Who are you stranger?” Eli kept her hands up, a blush abruptly appearing upon her face as she spoke her answer,

“I am...a matchmaker!” Sheriff Rocher rose his eyebrow, the guards stepped away as he walked in closer. A sneer crossed the man’s face.

“Of course you are.”

“Yes sir!” Eli continued to try to appear as pacifistic as possible, her eyes never leaving the older man’s. This was a mistake however, as for a short moment, her bright grey eyes flashed a different color. It was built into every chainsaw wielder to react to anything that might be a demon. It was the only blade that worked against them effectively and humanity could not afford to let said demon transform to its true form.

It was something that was trained into every single person in the town of Slowpoint from the moment they’re born, because even those who only knew the way of the rope could slow a demon down, because even if you were a nameless slave, you could point out the demon and the town could help you take it down all the more faster. They all worked as unit against demons, they all had to believe what another person saw, and take it down fast.

Or they may not survive.

Sheriff Rocher rushed and struck the woman with a lancing movement. The spinning blade striking and sticking into Eli’s skull, gore and gunk sprayed out disgustingly. The sheriff separated from Eli by kicking her body away, letting it fall into a crumpled heap.

“Go get some blessers! We’ll entrap this body!” Sheriff Rocher commanded to the guards quickly, then rose his blade, striking at Eli’s torso, intending to separate it from her waist. The blade stopped cold, jittering as if caught in gunk. The sheriff stared stunned and horrified as something black emerged from the corpse. She really was a demon!

The black thing held steadfast his blade, making it a useless chakram stuck in place. The older man watched with horror as the blackness up to the corpse’s face, the messy appearance of the young woman reversed as the darkness humorously grabbed the gore and stuck it back in. It continued to overcome the young woman’s body, until all that was left of the woman’s skin and hair was pure blackness.

The bright grey eyes that had life were pure white now, white as the moon. The doppelgänger that stood in front of him had fixed Eli’s face. Eli’s wound was gone and from Eli’s stomach held the hand that kept his chainsaw still, even as the blade kept spinning, it cut into goop that consistently reformed. “What on Holy are you?”

He had never came across this in his lifetime. He wasn’t sure anyone ever had. He could hear the guards and blessers coming up, rope flew past his form to latch over the monster’s neck. The blessers circled them, all of them praying different chants to combine in strength to cage the monster in front of them. The doppelgänger didn’t react to the rope tightening around its neck, it did respond to the sheriff's question.

“I am Assiah.” Those were the last words the man heard before his head exploded.Two hands emerged from the blackened figure’s back, squashing the man’s cheeks to flatten much like he had earlier. Assiah gave a maddening grin at the horrified gasps and screams around it, black hands emerged from several parts of the beings body. Bodies flew in the air as the hands plunged to the many people in the room. Guts, brains, and blood sprayed and Assiah laughed ethereally.

When Eli opened her eyes, a frustrated growl emerged along with her. Bodies splayed all along the walls, and Eli had little doubts that this church was no longer holy land. She truly appreciated that Assiah reassembled her but did it have to just mindlessly murder anything that attacked? Eli felt an unbidden amount of tears pour out, she bowed, caked in all of Assiah’s victims blood, and prayed.

Eli stood up and her tears kept pouring, she had been through this enough in life to know they would stain her face for a minimum of a day. Eli then looked up, liking the art painted on the top of the roof, giving her a tiny bit of peace. She then turned and exited the church, giving herself a reminder to mail the mother who wanted her daughter matched off later. She couldn’t stay here and complete her job.

It was a truly hard job to try and spread love over the world when many towns like Slowpoint took the approach of treating her as a demon. She couldn’t give up her clothes or names though, they had been blessed to keep Assiah locked in her brain...with exception to her life being exterminated.

Eli walked off into the desert, her tears continuing to stream down her face in a solemn reminder of the day.

Eli wasn’t a demon. Her shadow on the other hand...who knew?