#and i say eternally because yall will never listen

[gwandas]

I'm sorry but there's absolutely no way to spin dislike of a fictional character into something that requires you to embark on a personal crusade for. Disliking a fictional character is fine. I don't care if someone posts one post or a hundred posts about how much they hate a fictional character, but the second y'all start policing what people say about a fake person on their own blog in the name of “positivity” (lmfao) you've absolutely lost the plot

[bansheeoftheforest]

Still refusing to reread PJO/TKC but it is still infesting my brain so woe crossover au be upon yall

Au where Anubis casually gets assigned to be Bianca's and Nico's older brother, anyone?

(messy points below, mostly from Anubis' pov coz he is my pookie, and keep an eye out in the reblogs section for add-ons/updates!)

Like, once the other Egyptian gods start dropping like flies because the magicians are imprisoning them, assuming they may also go after Anubis, he turns to Hades as a very very very last resort because, well, he would like to not be imprisoned for all eternity, thank you very much. Hades agrees on the condition that Anubis looks after his demigods, since he otherwise really isn't to any use of him, which Anubis accepts. So, Anubis is basically the Hades/Pluto demigods' divine babysitter in exchange for some protection from the magicians who may or may not also want to imprison him.

I shall say that this either works bc A) Hades kids radiate enough death so that he can be around them without a host or B) it is all just bureaucracy so when the rest of the Egyptian gods are gone those rules simply do not really apply.

Anyways, once the Big Three ProphecyTM rolls around and Maria Di Angelo kicks the bucket, Anubis is left in charge of making sure the Di Angelo siblings survive, taking them to and staying with them at the Lotus Casino and the different schools that Hades moves them around to, either as their "older brother"/guardian or as their pet dog that the authorities simply don't bat an eye at.

The siblings, with their memories absolutely fucked up, simply accepts that they either have a brother, a dog, an older brother who is occasionally a dog, or a dog that only conveniently shows up when their brother isn't there and vice versa.

And since I haven't read any RR books since I was 12 and I never read the HOO series, I can't really talk much about the logistics from here on out but. I have some thoughts in general.

Anubis makes sure that he takes the majority of the responsibilities, so that Bianca can be a little more happy and a little less stressed than she would have been if she was alone looking after her little brother.

He also happily distracts Nico when Bianca needs a break, he can genuinely listen to Nico ramble about whatever for hours, remembers it quite well and can return the conversation, which Bianca rarely has energy for.

(He was the exact same when he was young and wants to make sure Nico has someone that listens to him)

Genuinely cannot rest until he makes sure the siblings are fine and safe, which becomes a bit of a problem when Bianca goes on her first and last quest, and even more of a problem when he is more stuck in the Brooklyn House and he has to keep contacting Nico before he allows himself or Walt to rest as a result of that.

He is so so so so SO protective of the siblings. He is absolutely ready to die or kill for them. He is not a fighter, more often than not a pacifist, but when it comes to them he is the first to throw hands.

Also him absolutely being ready to kill the demigods that find the siblings at the military school coz he is so used to the "any demigod or magician is here to kill one of us and I have to protect them at all costs" mode that he has been kinda stuck in for the last 70 or so years, minimum.

He is merely an older sibling running on the equivalent of 3 hours of sleep and 2 strong coffees, which really doesn't help the situation once shit starts going down in Brooklyn/the Egyptian pantheon.

Speaking of the Brooklyn House. After being a Divine BabysitterTM for like 2000 years he genuinely cannot get rid of those base instincts, which ends up with him fussing over the Kanes/Walt/Zia and the rest of the initiates because those are CHILDREN and they need to REST and be SAFE and EAT PROPERLY and TAKE YOUR DAMN VITAMINES, WALT.

Because of those 2000 years of babysitting, Anubis is genuinely amazing with kids. You'd think they'd be scared by him, but no. He is the first one they run to when they scraped their knee and need a band aid and a hug.

He also 100% stares right into Percy's and Will's souls the moment he finds out Nico has/had crushes on them. Despite being raised in an entirely different time he definitely is a "no dating until you are at least 25 otherwise I might have a heart attack" sibling and he is not letting some random demigod break his lil brother's heart. He accepts Will well enough though coz he makes Nico laugh which in the end is the most important thing.

Will might actually be more intimidated by Anubis than Hades but that doesn't stop him. Nico is his babygirl and he knows Anubis is (probably) more bark than bite (most of the time).

No matter if Hades allows him to like. stop being a babysitter once the gods are restored and Ma'at is balanced and all, Anubis still sticks around and checks in on Nico (and eventually Hazel). He gets antsy if he hasn't heard from them at least once a day.

He probably has a good base relationship with Jason and Reyna (bc both are protective older siblings when it comes to Nico) but he keeps Percy at a distance ever since Bianca's death (not that he blames him). But he isn't particularly close to any of them, as his priorities lay with Nico, Hazel, and the Brooklyn House.

Assuming Anubis doesn't like. Introduce himself to the greeks as "Anubis" and instead says he is someone else, I have absolutely no idea when or if he would ever tell any of the greek demigods what he truly is. But I suppose Nico would eventually find out that his older brother actually isn't related to him at all, or even from the greek pantheon, and instead only happened to become his older brother as a favour to Hades. Depending on how he finds out he definitely could get upset but I like to believe he sorta figures eventually, and is just happy Anubis genuinely cares for him.

I also like to think that the greek gods they meet when the demigods take the siblings from the school to camp half-blood, just gives Anubis A LookTM. Either they are fully aware he is protecting the Hades kids or they think an Egyptian god is just casually hanging out with some random demigods. Which must certainly be a sight to behold.

Can yall for a moment imagine being the Kane siblings, trying to get the feather of truth from the god of death to avoid the impending apocalypse, who then says "sorry I am mostly on babysitting duty so I can't really help yall more than this, good luck tho."

Walt who meets Nico and is so conflicted because in one way he is slightly weirded out by this tiny depressed gremlin, but in another way the Anubis PartTM of him is just going "protect protect protect protect", which is a weird first impression.

One of the Kane siblings would be interested in Mythomagic, I just know it. Either Sadie coz it is funky or Carter bc it is nerdy. Either way, Nico has at least one Kane to bond with bc of it.

Nico just has the ultimate diplomatic immunity because he can go between Camp Half-blood, Camp Jupiter, and the Brooklyn House basically as he pleases.

On a completely different topic, the majority of Nico's wardrobe is just shit he has stolen from Anubis, he just lets it happen, in part because it is not like he as a god has a limited wardrobe, and in part bc Nico is absolutely adorable when he drowns in Anubis' jackets bc they are too big for him.

Also, Anubis helping Nico train his death magic, and teaching him the easiest ways to build endurance while using it.

Frankly the thought of the rest of the gods being banished, imprisoned, in exile or attempting to free themselves while Anubis is playing babysitter is very funny to me in general. Imagine being Isis or Osiris and attempting to ask your nephew/son what he did during the 2000 years yall were imprisoned and he goes "I took a side job as a babysitter to pay the bills".

Honestly I might reblog this with more thoughts eventually. They are all just so pookie.

[inthiseverymoment]

silhouettes emerging: chapter viii

"she Flies with No Fanfare but the Voice of Her Own"

and softly found, now fully realized, finally her mind was free.

iwtv oc, this chapter ~1.8k

reynaldo hahn fans rise

there'll probably be about one or two more chapters left of this. pretty please like reblog lmk what yall think etc etc

enjoyyyyyy

chapter vii fic masterlist

“So. When was enough enough?”

He’d waited to ask this, having studied her face for more than a few moments in the hanging silence of Isabelle’s confession. Blood tears stained her cheeks, and a very tired sort of fury had set itself behind her eyes, as if disappointed that the memories could still elicit this much emotion from her after so many years.

“Enough had been enough for a long, long time, if I’m being entirely honest.”

She collected her thoughts for a moment, then-

“Daniel?”

“...Yeah?”

It was not the first time she had called him by his name, but it certainly felt like it.

“You know how, by human standards-some human standards, at least-you’re supposed to have full mastery over yourself by a certain point? How, these days, if someone you’re with says something awful, all attraction to them is supposed to disappear if you’re a good enough person to simply stop desiring something once you learn it’s wrong? How it’s easy to feel like an awful person for needing to try in order to keep yourself strong?”

He blinked.

“You and I have led very different lives, Ms…Isabelle.”

“Yes, I certainly know that. I never had the space or privilege-or even the opportunity-to go wild and have my fun before learning all my ‘lessons’. From a very young age, I always told myself that I’d be better than those who let jealousy or lust or anything else cloud their souls, and even as I settled into a life of killing to survive among friends who killed for fun, that deeper knowledge-that judgement born of youthful idealism-weighed on me, a lingering burn at the back of my mind. I never had that messy teenage love, never got to get the hormones out of the way while it was still socially acceptable, and then I became eternally stuck at a perpetually guilty, emotionally intelligent but worldly naive, constantly wondering twenty-two.

“I listened night after night as Santiago promised our audiences that the darkest parts of themselves were encouraged here-and, though the audience knew it was all to gain their dollar, I could still feel the relief and release coming from just about every one of them. We were monsters, and so were they; the blemishes on every soul were celebrated for once. That is why the Théâtre des Vampires endured for so long.

“It is not a moral failing to yearn to be seen, but I was…I was not myself. Armand did so much to make me stay, because I think I was the closest thing to healthy he’d ever had-and I was another in his line of those who challenged his structures, who shattered what he’d started growing tired of. A new piece was written for me, everything he thought I wanted: a more earnest meditation on grief and life, a deep burgundy velvet gown and long opera gloves, and a French artsong to boot. And the audiences…”

“Didn’t love it?”

“Not as much as I’d hoped. Édith and I exchanged letters secretly and often, and she said she wished she could have seen it live, but she was one of very, very few. The occasional patch of audience members appreciated it, but most just wanted to get back to the mockery and killing. They all thought I was talented, though.”

She rolled her bottom lip for a moment, as if chewing it in thought without the act itself.

“Talented, but pretentious. It took a remarkable amount of self-control to keep from reading their minds too often; upon first being turned, I loved the opportunity to know what people were truly thinking about my performances, my appearance, me-”

A small twist came into her face here, as if cursing herself for self-centeredness once more, then she almost relaxed out of it-

“But that unlimited bombardment of others’ opinions…we’re not meant to live like that.”

“There’s a hell of a lot about the way we live that I’ll take a guess no one was ‘meant’ to experience,” Daniel said.

“That was another thing I loved about Louis’ perspective. I had so many of those same questions-is our nature inherently evil? How did this all begin in the first place? Are vampires creatures of God if there is one, of the universe, part of the food chain as anything else? Every intricacy of human development-the stages of grief, the growing and decaying of the mind, changing relationships, all that was supposedly meant-what’s the effect of eternity on humanity? So many of our kind have lost it, and I’ve tried, tried to hold on. But something about what Claudia said stuck with me; I’d always known the coven had a sense of ‘vampire pride’, but the way she put it made it seem like any other societally put-down identity, like something to truly celebrate. That’s one way it’s often been looked at in fiction, with the other being the curse that Armand had found it to be before Lestat…Lestated his way into things. I am proud of my power, but I cannot call myself proud of all I did to gain it.”

“And all of this inner turmoil got to be too much after about how long?”

“I don’t know if I’d call it too much exactly, the leaving was…something more noble than that, I’d hope. But this lasted a few years. I made a survival tactic of pushing away all of this questioning, of seeing only what was put in front of me; after a lifetime of trying to stick to a certain sense of morality, I needed some way to let go, so I suppose I just went entirely in the opposite direction. We had our motorcycle hunts, like the one Louis described, and those were heaven: the open sky, the glimpses of the centuries-old buildings we whipped past, our shouts and songs ricocheting through the streets, the half-righteous glory of bleeding dry those wealth-hoarding motherfuckers who turned a thousand blind eyes to the mounting political horror. I had a family. And a few members of that family resented me, a few outright hated me, but I had a wild kind of freedom that I had never felt at home. This was new, deliciously new, and I tried to focus on that feeling because I…frankly, Daniel, although my power grew as the ancient blood simmered and perhaps I could have escaped, part of me didn’t want to give up the intoxication of what I had.”

He nodded.

“Until?”

~

Nineteen Thirty-Eight, Paris, France

This was it.

The horrid and powerful theatre folk of Paris had been slowly extinguished, spaced out enough that suspicion would not find the Théâtre des Vampires, and tonight was the last. Their offense wasn’t quite as unforgivable as a few of the rest, but being condescending towards young artists was being condescending towards young artists, and she and her coven needed to eat.

Tonight would be the downfall of the company owners who had told Isabelle with a smile that she didn’t have herself quite figured out yet.

This one was petty, something in her said, just as petty as her lack of grief upon watching that privileged young bully meet her death all that time ago. It was that, she knew, that had likely been one of the first things to alert Armand to her vampiric potential. And for these years, she had dreamt of what it would be like to witness those vapid, fake-deep hypocrites finally realize that Isabelle de la Rue knew who she was.

What she had not expected was that their haunted gaze from the stage right wing, held in place by Gustave and Estelle, would be the only thing she could think of, boring through flowing masses of perfect auburn curls straight to the ever-present and oft-dismissed burn at the back of her mind.

The artsong that she and Sam had chosen was one praising the inherent beauty of night, fitting for a theater filled with creatures of darkness; and the auditorium, usually restless throughout its duration and eager to return to its crudely mocking laughter, was stiller tonight.

“La lune blanche luit dans les bois; de chaque branche part une voix sous la ramée…”

The white moon shines in the woods; from each branch, a voice emerges under the foliage.

Behind her, projections of trees swayed eerily as animations of glowing eyes between their branches appeared and then disappeared, gone with a breath to leave the audience wondering whether they were truly there at all. The haunting nature of the context gave a striking and oddly beautiful contrast to the peace of the song, and despite herself, Isabelle smiled, relishing one of the few nights that her audience seemed to get it.

It was nights like these that almost let her think she was just another young singer, living her human life’s dream.

Breathing deeply to fuel an upcoming high note, she looked up towards Armand, whose fingers absentmindedly tapped the piano accompaniment on the balcony as he gazed down at her with something close to true admiration.

“Ô, bien aimée,” she floated.

Oh, beloved.

There was love there, that was certain.

So why did this moment of peace feel like a respite, not like the usual course of her days?

She glanced over to the company owners, their faces hollow after their capture with hardly an ounce of the arrogance they had once held. As the piano continued, Isabelle took a moment to search their thoughts-

“L’étang reflète, profond miroir…”

The pond reflects, the deep mirror,-

They barely recognized her.

“...la silhouette du saule noir…”

-the silhouette of the black willow-

They did not recognize her.

“...où le vent pleure…”

…where the wind weeps.

Looking back out to the audience, she halted for a moment, then poured her sigh into her major sixth.

“Rêvons…”

As her vibrato bloomed, there was then a spark that came from one of the minds, that they suddenly had put a name to the face, but Isabelle was beginning to realize…

This is not the triumph I had thought it would be.

“...c’est l’heure.”

It is the hour.

Her face painted even more pale, her finger bound by a lover’s blood that seemed to weigh her hand down more with every passing month, standing cold in the spotlight while hundreds upon hundreds of bodies lay under her feet-

This is not proof that I know who I am.

This is…

This is quite the opposite.

“Un vaste et tendre apaisement semble descendre du firmament que l’astre irise…”

A vast and tender calm seems to descend from the sky of the iridescent star.

She had fancied the idea of leaving many times, but it had always come with a tinge of desperation or loss, of knowledge that that willpower would fade at one smell of rust and makeup backstage or one sound of Armand’s voice.

But as her rich soprano climbed through Hahn’s softly wondrous buildup, she breathed into the beautiful certainty that this time was different.

A liberating bittersweetness filled the air as Isabelle promised through her final notes that they would be her last upon this stage.

“C’est l’heure exquise.”

[thesuntookgoodcareofme]

watch my amv, boy!

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°••°•°•°•°••°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

-UTENA, A GAROTA COTIDIANA-

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°••°•°•°•°••°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

notes under the cut ♡

OHHHH MY GOD I WAS DYING TO DO THIS. I HOPE YALL LIKE IT.

So, this is my first-ish amv that i put a lot of work into. Missed some school assignments while at it, but this will be fine.

So!! What I am very excited about is that the music is by one of my favorite national artists, Chico Buarque. Im not sure if yall have heard of him, but he was a very very relevant brazillian artist especially during the military dictatorship in Brazil (1964-1985) and his songs are often critizing this very moment in our history, highlighting the feelings of the people that went through a period full of oppression, censure, suffering and torture.

His songs are incredibly well-constructed, especially the lyrics, with very rich rhymes, wordplays, good sonority and meaning. He also sings a lot about the everyday of the people, simple people, paying tribute to the value and humanity of the often forgotten. In this song, for example, it talks about the everyday of a simple couple; A housewife and a working man, that live the same things every single day. It reflects on the exhaustion and anxiety that comes with living a life that never changes, and that you can't ever stop, even if you really wanted, because that's how you live. It shows the routine of the couple waking up early, eating (probably rice with) beans for lunch, yearning for a bigger life, going back home at sixpm, sleeping at midnight. It also counts with the heavy gender roles, of the woman that takes care of her husband, staying home waiting and cooking for him and waking him up, and the husband that works for money. All the tension that builds up from the repetition sounded greately Utena-esque for me. A life where the routine is forever the same, but you and your feelings change, and the days go by, and you know that eternity is not actually there, and you might be wasting yourself for a life you can't change. Or can you?

So, I hope I made tribute to these both I combined. Anime of course is Shoujo Kakumei Utena and the song is Cotidiano by Chico Buarque. Thank you for listening !!

( There's also a song by him called "Geni e o Zepelim" that would match Anthy perfectly. It's about a possibly transgender simple woman that is always by the side of marginalized people but, despite being a "pit of kindness" everyone on the city uses her as a scapegoat, saying that "she was made to be beaten, she's good to spit on". Then, one say, an enormous zeppelin comes flying to the town, with the powerful commander saying that he'll explode the entire city because of its evilness. But then, he changes his mind if a beautiful lady agrees to be with him. I'll write this here so i can remember later, and to he a song rec if u want!)

[mr-nauseam]

3, 21, and 25 for the ask game pls💕💕

Thank you so much much bby Grace for the questions!! 3. Favorite line/scene you wrote this year Ohh abt scenes, I like do lot of these, so I wouldn't end to mention them. Shot out tho to You let me desecrate you, bc the time it took me those scenes was INSANE, but talking about lines my top is: I. Me and my Husband:

"Stop acting like my father." Frustration seeps into his voice. Sejanus feels so guilty but he has to make him to understand.  "Because I am not my mother." And there it dies in Sejanus mouth for the one and only time, the affectionate name Ma. 

II. Kill me because I'm dying:

“Please, please. Somebody kill me.” Sejanus prays, because Marcus is no longer here. It would not be murder, it would be mercy. He is dying, he is beyond salvation. He's a goner, the snake listens.

III. when I'm out of faith, he's my idol: Coriolanus doesn't understand her words, until the thing turns around and he doesn't need to see it closer to recognize that face. The same face that invades his nightmares and haunts him through the walls of the Plinth's old apartment. A face that should not exist outside the darkest corners of his mind. Sejanus Plinth. Alive. Not dead as he should be, although the emptiness in his eyes, and the piercing scream that breaks the silence make him believe that he died right there, in the reunion that should never have happened. 

21. most memorable comment/review OH EVERY PERSON WHO LEAVES ME A COMMENT HAS MY ETERNAL LOVE, I LITERALLY HAVE A SHAMEFUL ALBUM WHERE I KEEP A SCREEN CAPTURE OF EVERY COMMENT I RECEIVE BECAUSE I'M THAT RIDICULOUS BUT... <3

We will make a special appointment to (Giuggiola, Malala, Adrianasalas91) known for being the faithful readers of Bad Ending,,,, I guess there are more people who read Bad Ending, but they have left comments on several of the one shots, and it has been a delight to read them every time, I love them very much, I wish they could see this and know that we have them very present with every evil thing we do in that au <3

AND personally an anon who left me a comment on when I'm out of faith, he's my idol is probably THE BEST COMMENT I EVER RECEIVED <3 no one knows this more than poor vico who had to put up with me but that fic was SO IGNORED at first,,,, it's not popular now but I got very depressed when I got crickets, in fact I called it a 10k fail, because speaking of sn*wjanus, I'm pretty consious I write unpopular stuff, but I don't know that time it was... so sad. I felt so much like shouting into the void at ideas that no one but vico and I were interested in,,,,what's point?I ask myself even why bother to publish? but that comment appeared, and I was inspired to keep being annoying in the tag sooo much. Alsooo saechisei who comment in Knock Off, its also one of the best COMMENTS I GEEET <3 25. a fic you read this year you would recommend everyone read FIRST YALL NEED READ VICOS FICS, SHES THE CEO OF PLINTH LORE The Plinth study characters collection The other person with excellent takes abt Plinth Family: Bee Little Sejanus series Then your fic, the sejarcus fic of all the time Just as it was The best fucking snowbairdplinth fic on earth The haunting of Coriolanus Snow HERE... I WOULD SAY EVERYBODY SHOULD READ THIS ONE but, Im a dove dead fan, I read fucked fucked shit and I know not everybody is into that SO PLEASE PLEAE READ READ THE TAGS, TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF!!! but... One of the best Tigris character study in my opinion, and one fo the stories that shape my vision of Snow Family Pretty little beasts

[shutupheathersorryheatherr]

XH Jungsu hcs pt.1

Summery: just what the title says. something hopefully you find cute, fluffy, and shorter to read approximately: 10 min read

a/n: mark my words next month I WILL do a pt.2 that's more in the hcs I did for jooyeon where its about how y'all probably got together and little scenes from yalls relationship just gotta get this gyu fic out first. please comment or reblog if you liked this!

warnings/info: kissing, some sort of relationship idk what tho never really specified, cuddles, mentions of washing your face (don't forget to wash the grime off today y'all) mentions of him needing reader but noting else of the like is mentioned, talking about changing a light bulb with wet hands (don't ask), a couple misspelled words ill eventually will get to and weed out. pls don't be mean I did most of this with no sleep

~this is simply a piece of fiction. my imagination onto "paper." this is in no way meant to be taken as an actual or real representation of anyone~

ok ok ok there's so many things I don't even know where to start!!

first of all, the softest human being you could ever ask for

I dunno man he just exudes cuddly-ness to me

speaking of cuddles, while I don't think physical touch is one of his love languages, that doesn't mean the first time he gets a taste of you so close to him, he doesn't wanna have you in each others arms for eternity.

Lazy. Morning. Cuddles.

nothing more even needs to be said on that. they're his favorite with you

tangled in the sheets and each others limbs all over the place, his arm about to fall asleep because you're laying on it.... facing each other...

there's not much in life that brings him more indescribable immense joy than to wake up next to you and turn over to scoop you up into his arms.

during times like these, you'd talk, about anything and everything cause it didn't really matter. he would always listen intentively and so would you, calming whatever worries you might have and making you feel like everything would be ok.

cause to be honest, it would be with him around

that brings another thing:

I feel like he's not only the type to listen and provide good advice when he feels like you'd like or need it, but he's also the type to see something going wrong in the moment and try his best to help pull you out of it

like if he can sense someone is making you feel uncomfortable he'll go over there by you, most of the time he doesn't really do much, knowing that you can handle yourself. but at the same time him making his presence known calms and comforts you

don't get me wrong tho, if the time is right he will be saying something to defuse or help that uncomfortable situation

skincare routines together!!!!!

like you cannot convince me that doing that together wouldn’t one, be extremely frequent, and two, is one of the cutest things to do ever

it all started when he gently helped you do it when you were too tired to do so yourself

he knew you’d be mad with yourself if you didn’t get it don’t you slept with an unwashed face

so, being the great guy he is he coaxed you into the bathroom and helped you with it

”lemme help you, sweetie.” He said “I know you’re mostly asleep already”

And there…. Was born a treasure of a tradition.

From then on you’d do it together cause quote “it was kinda fun”

imagine him gently rubbing your cheeks, nose, wherever, with your facial wash! It’d be so cute I can’t—

but most of the time it just consisted of you two doing it next to each other in the bathroom or bedroom mirror

sometimes he’d lean his head on your shoulder and stare up at you, the only thought in his mind how lucky he was to have you

God, just the thought of it— the word itself, even, made his heart swell with joy

Plus he thinks it’s really cute to do that little couple thing together

he boops his nose to yours. I won't be taking any comments

prue fact

honestly he's pretty much your best friend

thinks you're the coolest human alive no matter what you do

like you could be putting your shoes on and he's still mesmerized

he's standing there like "ugh the way you put them on?? I've never seen anything like it"

for real tho, he exudes this aura that makes you feel like you can do anything

and spurs you on to do just that!

cause you can! duh!

here's something I really appreciate about some people that I feel he'd be like:

as someone who is like, your best friend, he wouldn't always act like you're always right

though most of the time you are tbh

but sometimes you need that person telling you that hey, maybe this isn't the best decision and not just supporting you just cause

like a REAL supporter ya know

at least to me, someone who like really actually supports you is someone who will actually try and help if you need it and tries their hardest to make sure you don't get hurt

like "um yeah maybe changing a light bulb with wet hands isn't the best."

idk man most people know not to do that but you catch my drift?

don't get me wrong tho he still worships the ground you walk on

he just cares so much about you that he actually wants to help

also I don't know why this came into my mind but in the words of Alicia keys: he'll "love you when you're weak and love you when you're strong"

because unlike some, he wants to help because he cares, but that's not his only focus.

if you accomplish something, then he'll applaud you, never jealous. just happy you were able to do what you did

if you need help, he won't hesitate to help you

there's no room for any type of wounded masculinity with all the love he has for you in his heart.

I don't know how else to explain it but there you go

just... you're both a voice of reason for each other

I've said this before but you're like the seasoning that makes his life better

actually wait no

not better

the best it possibly can be

and who doesn't want their life to be the best it could?

ugh oh my god his kisses!!!!!

his kisses are the sweetest fr

they can either be the softest and sweetest thing you've ever felt or the could be the hungriest

but no matter what they always will maintain that softer and sweeter than cotton candy feel to them that you can never get tired of

he's got you chasing his lips after he pulls away type shit

he does he same to be honest lmao

no matter if he needs you

or if he just, I dunno, wants to kiss you lol

they're still so soft and somehow still delicate that even feathers would be jealous

holds your face and leans his body into yours when he kisses you and it makes the both of you smile into it

there's a lot of that

just joy that not only can't help but bubble over in how smiley the both of you are together, but also the way you've become around others

~end~

taglist: @itz-yerin

again, if you liked this fic, please leave some love like reblogging and or commenting! when you like something on Tumblr it only bookmarks it for you, not helping with getting the fic around to more people. and while that's not the reason I write, it really makes my day and invigorates me to write more when I see a comment or a reblog :)

2023 copy-write or shutupheathersorryheatherr please do not steal, translate, or copy my work even if you credit me

[campymoon]

Extreme TW: self unaliving thoughts, depression, BPD, just scroll. It’s a vent post

If I can post on here about wanting to be raped and yall either like or scroll I should be able to post about this too.

I think I’m going to give it another week honestly.

I told myself if like didn’t get better by my 22nd bday I’d end it but now my 24th is like a month away and… yeah. I have an amazing and wonderful partner and I promised not to because I believe in the afterlife and want us to be together forever but I believe he deserves to spend eternity with someone normal. Someone easy to love and someone who’s as pure and perfect as he is.

My family is… dysfunctional and doesn’t care about all the things I’ve done for them, sacrificed for them nor do they even listen when I speak most times unless I yell.

Multiple friends have left me and I’ve been abandoned too many times. And I wouldn’t survive if my partner one day betrayed me or left me. Sorry I love him with everything but have also been waiting to be with fully since 2019…I feel like I have to beg just to discuss our future and when we do I feel like a fucking moron because he brings up a million different points that I “don’t consider”.

And I’m painting him really harshly I’m splitting on him rn (BPD) he’s very sweet and patient and loving but I’m so alone and tired of being alone and having to struggle alone while he just gets to do whatever he wants (overdramatized but it feels that way when I’m upset).

And I’m just so so SO TIRED of being told I have to push back my passions, happiness and goals just because that’s “how it is” and I need to “sacrifice” fucking everything that brings me joy or peace. When I was a child I was SA’d. I was like 5, then again at age 9 by my stepbrother till I was like 16 but my parents didn’t believe me and made me eat alone in my room for weeks. I wasn’t allowed to go to friends houses, parties or have a bf until I was 18, no job till 19 then coerced into the military into a career I hated to be bullied and abused more by strangers. Blah blah blah sad back story bs.

I could tell any person close to me in my life that I was actively being abused and all they’d do is say “aweee I’m sorry” (I’ve literally told the closest people i know that I’m being sexually harassed and they just give me a sad face. I’ve seen people buck up faster to STOP ME from retaliating to violence or aggression more than anyone has actually protected me from any abuser).

I tried sex work but uhhhh duh. I was an obvious flop (which isn’t like a “pity me” statement it’s just the truth).

And even though I loved it without making any real money from it and without the motivation I stopped.

I’m just tired. Tired of never being put absolutely number one by anyone. I wanna be loved like how I love. Unconditionally, irrationally and with compassion and empathy. I wanna have my tears move you like yours move mine. I wanna have my laughter bring out yours. I want it all. I crave it. This isn’t about just romance either I wanna form this is about all types of love. I wanna feel it like how I give it. And I NEVER FUCKING DO!

Then my issues get accidentally used against me. And it absolutely broke my heart. Imagine not going to your dream state for your dream school for someone and that someone says that you not having a figured out career or college degree causes hesitancy in moving in with/marrying you? Ofc I wanna fucking kill myself! I don’t wanna be here NOTHING I DO IS EVER ENOUGH NOR WILL IT EVER BE ENOUGH!!! I’ve been told so many times “You are enough. You deserve to be loved.” By the SAME PEOPLE WHO LEAVE ME! Who tell me I’m too much!!! Who say they can’t handle me!?

I’m told I can’t not speak when I’m angry. Then when I speak when I’m angry I’m “being rude”/“not thinking about my words”/“mean” but when I try to slowly think out my words and explain things EXACTLY as I mean them with indicators that I don’t mean offense nor that I’m angry with anyone IM STILL IN THE WRONG?!

I just wanted to be an artist in Colorado.

And now im just gonna be another dead loser nobody will remember in a few years.

[nonnie-villeneuve]

REWATCHED WAKANDA FOREVER YET AGAIN...

Okay, so I keep seeing posts saying Namor is a villain, and I find it so infuriating because he's clearly an anti-hero. "Yeah but he killed Queen Ramonda and a lot of Wakandans." Yeah, I know. If y'all ever heard of tribal wars then it makes sense. So here's the thing: Nakia killed two of his children. It's supposed to be an eye for an eye kind of thing, but obviously, Wakanda will never give up Riri and Nakia. He has no choice but to attack until the blood debt has been repaid, but then it will never be repaid because that's just how things go in war. The death tolls just rise, wars are waged again and again to avenge those who have been killed until there's no one left in one or both factions. Lots of tribes have been wiped out because of tribal wars.

Shuri choosing to spare Namor's life breaks the cycle. It's not like a preventive measure because M'Baku was wrong. They were plunged into eternal war when Nakia killed those two handmaidens. Remember, Talokan was isolated for 500 years, maybe more. They are a nation that kept to the old ways, free from western influences. To them, K'uk'ulkan's plan to wash away the surface world is normal. We see this with the fall of Tikal, which is basically an it's them or us situation (please correct me if I'm wrong but this was the vibe I got from whatever I read + documentaries...they were rivals and one is wary of the other until Uht Chan went okay let's end this shit. But also take this with a grain of salt because not much is known about the Snake Kings 🫣🫣). Ok that's all! Thanks for listening to my TED talk.

(Cuz ofc nashuri is in my head now 24/7)

(And omfg I just love the Talokan storyline so much!! We need a series, a movie, new comics!!)

(Ah hehe I just remembered Namor slept with a tapeworm queen to prevent war. He's a make love not war kinda guy, so yeah he 100% was propsing using the bracelet thing. It makes sense with his character...and yall know he was just playing hard to get when he kept saying he needed to kill Riri. I honestly thought he was trying to convince himself more than Shuri lol)

ALSO NOT TRYING TO DEFEND NAMOR BECAUSE OMG JUST WHY BUT please don't act like he did it just because...

[danniburgh]

Sins of the Flesh (priest!Dave York x f!reader)

Pairing: priest!Dave York x f!reader

Summary:  His mind shouldn’t be on the new catechesis teacher as he cleaned the chalice after handing communion. His thoughts shouldn’t be on the young girl he knew for so long as he blessed the congregation and finished mass.

But you were different now. Something in you had changed. “Lord, have mercy on me.”

Word count: +10.9k

Warnings: religion! catholic religion to be precise, a lot A LOT of religious references and undertones (shot every time you find one lmao), age gap (around 15 years, reader is legal), smut, unprotected p in v, oral sex, breaking of celibacy vows!, catholic guilt, me making divine metaphors... i think thats it.

A/N: first of all this is all @asta-lily​’s fault, she asked why no one had turned this man into a priest and i said “ok ill do it” so i did it, she is to blame. also i wanna say thanks to the pocket wives that encouraged this creation, sorry my loves, this isnt as slutty as yall thought lmao, and thanks to @alliterative-albatross​ who gave me all the bible verses that shaped this story as well. and i wanna thank the creator of this playlist that i listened over and over while writing this, and yeah, sorry for this monstrosity, love you <3

Masterlist // Read on ao3 // ko-fi

comments and reblogs are eternally appreciated 💓

moodboard by @asta-lily

“So whoever knows the right thing to do and fails to do it, for him it is sin.”–James 4:12.

Sunday 1.

Like a piece in a puzzle.

That’s how you fit in.

There, sitting in the middle of a ten people polished wood bench, eyes on the four feet tall crucified Jesus on the wall above the altar, ready for the first sermon you were to hear after coming back home.

Home. That was the name.

That church felt like home.

You were enjoying sitting there, among the children you met a couple of hours earlier when you were introduced to them as their new catechesis teacher, breathing in and out the myrrh incense burning and invading the navel and your lungs, filling them with new energy, getting them ready to feel the love that you were sure was about to pour over you.

You heard your name behind you and you turned around to see Mrs. Stevens, one of your mother’s friends waving at you from two rows behind.

“Hi, honey!” she smiled at you and immediately you reciprocated “I heard you were in town, are you staying this time?”

You drowned a chuckle inside your chest and bit your lip, nodding. Just realizing you even had missed the venomous messages hidden behind the kind words mouthed by old catholic moms.

“Yes, Mrs. Stevens, I’m staying this time.” you replied, the woman lifted her hand a bit to the sky and you smirked to her.

“God bless, I bet your mom is delighted you’re here!” she muttered “I know she missed you terribly all those years you were in that school.”

“It’s called college, Mrs. Stevens,” you reminded the woman, and she rolled her eyes, making you chuckle softly again “but do not worry for my mama anymore, I graduated, I’m staying for good.” you told her, amused at the way she acted as if you staying at home was some godsend blessing.

The organ began to play on the upper balcony behind everyone and you saw two altar boys, carbon copy of each other, almost rushing their way to the altar, and behind them… Father Dave.

You smiled softly at the sight of him as he walked solemnly to the altar, his green chasuble flowing with the air and the movement, there was a thought you had all those years you were away from home because of school, always coming back to Father Dave York: the young priest that decided to stay in the first congregation he was sent to, the one that became a pillar to the community, the holy man that held the direct link to God and that gave you your first communion, the one you missed when you went to attend mass at the church near campus because no one gave the sermons like he did. For some reason, whenever you least expected, you thought of him.

You saw him putting his bible on top of the pressed cloth over the altar, kneel and kiss the center of it and cross himself. And then, after he closed his eyes and muttered a prayer to himself and to God, he opened his deep brown eyes and he looked at you.

“Let us pray.”

Your mouth dried when his deep timbered voice, with the help of a small microphone on his altar, wrapped the entire navel and you with it, he looked at you as he cleared his throat and he opened his arms to the sky, breaking eye contact with you.

“Lord, have mercy.” he murmured, and the congregation replied to his prayer as you struggled to find the air that had escaped your lungs.

As Father Dave guided the congregation through the sermon and through the prayers, all you could see was him.

In some way, there was something different about him you hadn’t noticed the last time you were there; you didn’t know if it was something about his deep voice as he recited the credo by muscle memory, the way he walked from one side of the sanctuarium to the other as he talked about the scripture or the way his hands wrapped around the chalice when one of the altar boys handed it to him as the organ echoed all around the navel, announcing the communion.

You stood up and walked to the back of the line and sighed as he lifted the wafer to the sky, and your eyes closed by themselves when he lifted the chalice and took a sip from the sacramental wine and locked your eyes on him as the line moved.

As soon as you were in front of him your lips parted and he smiled at you softly.

“The body of Christ.” he murmured, his deep brown eyes on yours as they filled with tears.

“Amen” and you opened your mouth.

He put the wined wafer between your lips and his thumb brushed with your chin, making your skin burn as you brought it inside of your mouth with your tongue and forced yourself to walk away from him.

As you returned to your seat with the gold cross that hung from your neck between your fingers and kneeled to pray for the forgiving of your sins, all you could think of was brown, deep eyes, and a soft, brief touch on your chin that burned more than the wax of a burning taper.

Dave felt it.

The way you looked at him throughout the entire service.

And it made him feel different.

When you rose from your seat to walk to the communion line, he saw the way your body moved, almost as if you were floating instead of walking.

He knew you were back, and his heart was happy you were finally home.

But he didn’t expect to see you so changed.

And he didn’t expect the way your eyes had made him feel.

Then you were in front of him, and he smiled because he remembered the first time he handed the body of Christ to you, years and years before.

And your eyes filled with tears as his breath hitched when your lips parted for him as he fed you the sacred soul of the savior.

God, have mercy.

His mind shouldn’t be on the new catechesis teacher as he cleaned the chalice after handing communion. His thoughts shouldn’t be on the young girl he knew for so long as he blessed the congregation and finished mass.

But you were different now. Something in you had changed.

Lord, have mercy on me. He thought as he entered the sacristy.

“Whoever conceals his transgressions will not prosper, but he who confesses and forsakes them will obtain mercy.”–Proverbs 28:13.

Sunday 2.

“Forgive me, father, for I have sinned.” Dave heard your voice next to him and felt the air leave from his lungs. Not you, please God, not you.

You had been avoiding Father Dave for almost the entire week.

And you felt guilty about it.

You couldn’t even look at him in the eyes and not think about those dreams you were having about him.

If God was all love and perfection, why was he tempting you with dreams of Father Dave, his own servant, touching you in places you got shivers from, warming your body with his own, putting his mouth on your skin as you repeated his name like it was the sanctus?

Holy, holy, holy.

Why was God putting inside your head the sins of the flesh you had already asked forgiveness for? Why was he making you desire a forbidden man? A man that was not to be perceived as a man but as the representation of him on earth.

That morning, when you walked into the church to impart the catechesis class, you saw Jesus on the cross and you saw him look at you. And you knew he knew.

All omnipresent, all omniscient, all omnipotent.

You couldn’t stop thinking about him.

Almighty God why were you thinking about him so much?

And the resolution in your mind was asking for forgiveness, you needed to pay penitence for those thoughts you knew you did.

But were you really about to confess to the man you had been dreaming about that he was invading your every thought?

“It has been two weeks since my last confession.” you mumbled, playing with your cross over your neck, Dave breathed in deeply and intertwined his hands on his lap.

“What are your sins?” he asked, closing his eyes as he remembered his own.

Dave was always a man of faith. It was in him from birth. He had been taught and trained to not fall into any temptations and so far his life had been devoted and dedicated to God and only to God.

But your eyes and the way you saw him, and the way your eyes made him feel when they locked on his, had him spiraling down into decadence.

Sometimes, dedicating his life to the word of the Lord made him forget he was still a human, he was still a man.

He had needs.

And he was alright before your eyes. Before your holy eyes were on him.

He had dreamed of them; he had thought of them; he had imagined them when he was in the limbo between sleep and awakeness.

He had dreamed of your lips, of your lips on his skin, he had thought of those lips that just looked like they needed someone to wet them and bring them back to life; he had imagined those lips of yours in places of his body he swore never to use.

He had prayed for them to disappear; he had begged to his God to erase those thoughts of his mind and free them from the temptation that was incarnated in you, in your body, in your eyes that denied to see him when you were in the same room, in your hands as you moved them to teach the children, in your legs trapped in the tight denim of your jeans, in your lips as you smiled to everyone but him, in your entire being, just by existing.

But they had increased, like a tamed flame sprayed with gasoline. He had a fire in his chest, one that was spreading through him as he was closer to you.

He needed them gone; he had sworn to never look at a woman as an object of desire; he had sworn on his life and he had vowed his commitment.

But you were there, kneeling next to him, separated by the thinnest patterned panel, holding the matches and the fuel.

“I’ve been having… improper thoughts, father,” you whispered, closing your eyes and left your necklace alone, clutching your hands together as tight as you could, you felt the aura change and the air grow thicker between him and you, “about a man.”

Dave opened his eyes at your confession and frowned. A man?

He knew you could tell him whatever you wanted; he knew he wasn’t allowed to ask in for details; he knew he was only there functioning as a link for you to get absolved from your sins and you were a young woman granted of free will and enough time to ask for absolution but he wanted to know; he needed to know who that man was.

“He is ol–older than me,” he heard you mumble and his hands tightened their grip on each other “and I can’t have him, father, I–I’ve been having these thoughts about a forbidden man.”

Dave’s mind went reeling, and he didn’t understand why. He didn’t like to assume about the life of his congregation members, he never did, but you were talking to him, after he had been dreaming about you for days, after you two shared something about desiring another man. And he was angry. He wanted to know who. He wanted to know who was keeping your mind the same way you were keeping his.

“He keeps me up at night, thinking of him, that is,” you whispered “I’ve–Jesus,” you let out the air of your lungs and Dave breathed in deeply once more “I’ve touched myself thinking of him.” you said under your breath and Dave felt his chest tug and turn.

“Does this man… know what he is causing in you?” he muttered with a frown and heard you sigh.

“No, I don’t want him to.”

“Alright, child,” he replied after a few seconds, and made a grimace of disgust at the pet name. It felt wrong, and he felt dirty with the word on his mouth, “do you repent these sins?”

“Yes, father, I do.” you closed your eyes at his words and wanted, for once, to be brave and tell him he was the one roaming around your mind. But it wasn’t fair.

“Please, recite in silence the act of contrition,” he muttered to you and you obeyed, feeling your eyes fill with tears.

As he waited for you to finish, he did the same on his side of the confession box

I’m choosing to sin and failing to do good.

“Amen.” you said, and he murmured the word to the ceiling.

“I think the word you do for the church,” he started, and you wrinkled your nose at the thought of him knowing it was you “the devotion you have, and how you repent, you don’t need to pay penance,” he muttered separating his hands and putting two fingers on the edge of the patterned panel that separated the two of you “through the ministry of the church,” your breath hitched as he whispered the words to you, and you saw with teary eyes the shadow of his fingers on the panel “man God give you pardon and peace,” you bit your lip and unclutched your hands, lifting your fingers and pressing it to his as two heavy tears fell from your eyes.

Dave felt the pressure of your touch and felt his hand tremble.

“And I ab–absolve you from your sin.” he said under his breath, pressing back.

“Thank you, father.” you whispered, not moving your fingers. You could feel the warmth of his through it and for a few seconds, you could also feel his eyes on your face.

Dave was the one to break the contact first. Absentmindedly brushing his fingers on his stole as he saw the shadow of you move and get out of the confession box.

He sat there, thankful you were the only one that morning and thinking about what you had told him.

A man of God, a man of hope. He had hoped, even if it was a sin and even if it was forbidden by pure creed and vow, that you were feeling the same as he was.

For a moment, he wondered about those thoughts… Were you thinking about that lucky old man touching you? Were you thinking about that man kissing you? What did that man look like? He wanted to be that man; he wanted to be the one whose touch you desired; he wanted to be that man you thought of as you sneaked your hand inside your underwear at night and brought yourself to pleasure. He wanted to be the one whose kiss you yearned for as your sex ached for attention; he wanted to be the one whose fingers you imagined as your own were buried deep inside you.

He fisted the flesh of his thigh over his dress pants and forced himself to stop thinking of you like that.

Dave stayed inside the confession box for twenty minutes more, praying for forgiveness, as he had done every night since you had been back.

At service, he saw you further back on the benches and he tried not to sneak glances at you as you sat there with your precious eyes on the crucifix above him, avoiding him at all costs.

And at communion, he tried not to brush your soft skin with his fingers as he fed you the wined wafer, failing when his knuckle brushed your cheek, his chest deflating when he noticed the way your face quirked in pain when you muttered Amen at him. Dave tried not to make anything of the fact that you kneeled more time than anyone else on the congregation after receiving the communion.

And when the service was over and he was alone in the sacristy, he tried and failed to not think about your skin, your eyes, your hands and your lips all over his neglected body.

That sunday night Father Dave masturbated in the shower thinking about you with your fingers deep inside you as his mind imagined it was him you thought of when you touched yourself in the darkness of the night and prayed for forgiveness.

He shouldn’t be thinking about you like that.

“Beloved, I urge you as sojourners and exiles to abstain from the passions of the flesh, which wage war against your soul.”–1 Peter 2:11.

Sunday 3.

“Father, sh–shit,” you bit your lip to stop yourself from moaning as your pointer and middle fingers circled your wet clit under the covers of your bed, your legs spread open, the soft cotton of the sheets grazing softly at your inner thighs as you imagined your fingers being one of Father Dave’s, as you imagined him next to you, with his arm above your head as he whispered sweet nothings in your ear and nibbled at your neck while his other hand played your clit like a master pianist. You imagined the hardness of his erection pressing patiently on the skin of your hip, wetting it with pre-semen, making your body burn with the feeling of his warm naked body beside you.

As your other hand played with your nipple you imagined his eyes taking you in, you imagined his lips on your skin, were they soft? you bet they were, and you bet as well his hand would be surprisingly rough for a priest.

“Jesus, fu–fuck.” the knot inside your lower belly exploded with the thought of him and his hand and his body and his lips and his priesthood and you came with a silent scream that made your ears ring for a few seconds and your legs tremble on the bed.

As you hazed out, ready to fall asleep again before your alarm went off to go to work at the church, you felt that familiar guilt cripple inside you and settle in your chest, warming up and leaning against your heart.

Dave was panting, he fisted his hand as he leaned on the tiled wall of his shower and his other hand moved desperately on his cock. The water was still warm, and he closed his eyes shut as he imagined it was your hand on him, giving him the pleasure he was seeking, as he imagined you were behind him, your lips brushing against the wet skin of his back, your free hand around his chest, gliding softly at his skin, making him whimper with your touch.

It was so early for him to be so hot over you again; it wasn’t good for him to give into these desires he had and had been praying so hard and so much to get rid of.

He didn't want to keep doing it and he surely didn’t feel good after it, but his body ached for you, his chest turned every time he thought about you, every time he saw you around the church, he felt the deepest, hottest desire for you and your hands and your body and he just couldn’t help it.

His hand gripped and pumped as fast as he could and he came with a silent groan, opening his eyes as he finished milking every drop of his seed and watched it mix with the shower water and go down the drain. Along with the decency and morality that was left inside him.

You heard your name being said, and you turned around as you finished picking up your things from the small desk you used to teach the catechism; you saw Mrs. Vega, the church custodian, a small, old lady that had known you forever, walking towards you.

“I’m sorry dear, but I want to ask you for something.” she said when you smiled at her.

“Of course, Mrs. Vega, what is it?” you put your small book inside your bag and hung it from your shoulders.

“You see, the little twins that help Father Dave are sick today,” you frowned at the mention of Father’s Dave name but let out a sad sigh at her statement, “and they can’t come help with the service, you’re the youngest of the teachers, could you do it?”

You raised your eyebrows in surprise and felt your stomach churn inside you at the thought of standing next to the altar for a whole service.

“Me?” you asked, your voice in a high pitch as Mrs. Vega reached for your arm and tugged you to walk out of the chapel and into the navel of the church.

“Yes, dear, remember only the youngest get to do it.” she obviated, pulling you with her to the transept and up two steps to the sanctuarium “you only need to hand him the communion things and the holy water, I will prepare everything for you.”

“Why don’t you do it?” you asked in a whisper, not daring to take a step further closer to the altar. Mrs. Vega turned to look at you, and she narrowed her eyes.

“Since when are you shy, girl?” she asked with a teasing smile “I remember you singing in that kiddie choir we used to have and doing it terribly,” you chuckled at the memory and bit your lip “it’s only until the boys get that bug they got out of them.” she palmed your arm, and you breathed in deeply.

You looked up at the crucified Jesus above the altar and silently begged him for anticipated forgiveness.

Dave almost cursed when he saw you standing next to the altar as he walked across the navel.

The thought of who would replace Bobby and Chris on their altar duties didn’t even cross his mind as he was more worried about praying for the boys and sending them some sweets and pleading for the cleansing of his soul after the incident on his shower earlier that morning.

As he stepped up to the sanctuarium your eyes locked on his and he noticed you lips parting when he nodded his chin once at you, he noticed the way you swallowed as you nodded back and for a brief second, his imagination ran wild and made him believe you felt the same way as he did about you.

Even if it was the wrongest thing to think about.

It was like torture.

An hour of torture.

You got to see him kneel behind the altar and kiss the white pressed cloth softly as he stood, as you wanted and wished to be the altar’s cloth he pressed his plump lips on, he crossed himself and you mimicked his movements. And for a brief fraction of a second, as he opened his arms to the sky, you saw him looking at you out of the corner of his eye. And his eyes burned in your skin, they made you feel like your chest was aflame.

The communion time arrived, and he turned to you as you grabbed the chalice with the wine, his eyes locked with yours and you felt them weigh heavy on your body.

Dave couldn't concentrate, he felt on his side the way you were looking at him. It was heavily distracting for him to have you there, in his space, so close to him.

His hands brushed yours when he took the chalice from you and he stood there for less than a second, his fingers on yours. His soft touch and warm skin made your lips tremble with the emotion that touching him gave you. You felt a shiver go up and down your spine and the small hairs of your nape rose as his hands trapped yours.

You caught your lip between your teeth as he broke the contact and you knew he noticed; he looked at your lip as you bit it, and you blushed under his and God’s gaze.

You watched him and he felt you observing him as he prepared the wafers and wined them inside the chalice.

Your throat knotted when he lifted the cup to the sky and you felt your mouth dry as he brought the rim to his lip and his neck strained while he took a sip of the sacramental wine.

Because of the closeness you could see the movement of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed the wine, you noticed a small drop of the crimson red liquid escape from his lips and the way he trapped it with his tongue settled deep inside your belly and leaked through your sex.

The pain of the greatest guilt you’ve ever felt in your short life appeared again and clawed its way inside your chest and to its now usual spot right next to your heart, you were struggling to keep your thoughts at bay; you were looking at Father Dave, right in front of you, doing what he dedicated his life to, and you were imagining him using his hands on your body instead of handling the instruments of the church.

Would he touch you like that? would he treat you with the same delicacy as he treated the body of Christ? would he caress you as softly as he did the chalice? would his mouth be warmed with your taste as it was by the wine he drank?

Dave turned to you and he saw you clutching your hands together, you walked towards him slowly, and he couldn’t stop thinking about the way you moved, almost as if air went through you, as if instead of giving steps your feet barely touched the floor because you were floating.

Everything slowed down, the music of the organ in the balcony, the prayers of the congregation, even the way he moved slowed down so he could focus on your face; on your sweet eyes, those that had brought into him the feeling of humanity, on your soft skin that had scorched his hand when he dared brushed his fingers on it, on your lips, those lips that he couldn’t pray out of his head.

He lifted his hand with the wined wafer, and even the way those holy lips of yours parted was slowed down.

Your eyes connected with his and Dave felt it in his body, deep inside his stomach, the temptation, the whispers of his mortal body as it reacted to your actions; he put the wafer between your lips delicately and pushed it inside your mouth, and then, as if by the grace of God in the heavens, you closed your mouth while he did it, and your lips wrapped softly around the pad of his finger as he pulled them away from you.

And just like that, the world started moving at its usual pace.

His skin tasted sweet. And you spent the rest of the service thinking about what other parts of him would taste like that.

Would his neck taste the same if you kissed it? would his chest feel like that if you nibbled on it? would his lips be that warm or would they be warmer?

Dave’s finger was burning.

He wanted to chop it off his hand just to stop feeling that flesh-eating guilt of enjoying your lips, your soft, warm lips around it, touching his skin, wetting it with the slick of your mouth.

After the service ended and Dave blessed the congregation, he saw you rush to the exit and he felt the sting of the guilt and the sadness. He wanted to talk to you and offer his apologies before you went home.

Sunday 4.

You weren’t there.

And Dave missed your eyes on him.

“I appeal to you therefore, brothers, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship.”–Romans 12:1.

Sunday 5.

As soon as you walked into the church you felt the eyes of all omnipresent beings on your body. As if the desire that burned deep inside your body left marks all over your skin, that could be visible for all those that looked carefully enough.

You heard your name behind you and jumped slightly, startled. You turned around and felt your blood fall to your feet.

“Father Dave,” you muttered, more to help yourself acknowledge the fact that there he was, standing in front of you, out of habit, his white tab collar was the only piece of his attire that hinted the fact that he was a priest. You tried to control your body as you felt instantly that flame inside your chest beginning to spread.

“You weren’t here last week,” he said, hesitating to step closer to you “are you okay?”

You nodded a few times and bit your lip to stop it from trembling.

“Are you sure?” Father Dave asked, and you dropped your eyes to the floor and saw him give a couple of steps towards you, your breath hitched and your entire body began to shiver when you felt his hand on your arm “I’m sorry.” he whispered.

“What?” you looked up to see him and you could notice his pained quirk, his brow furrowed, his eyes narrowed and his lips… those lips you had spent all but two weeks imagining printing themselves and making marks on your skin, on a sad, downwards line.

“Can I please talk to you?” he said again in a whisper and you opened your mouth to reply, but only air came out, “please?”

His deep brown eyes were on yours and you felt your chest turn by the feeling of having him so close. You nodded, and he turned to the sides, as if he was making sure there was no one there, and guided you to the sacristy.

“What are you doing?” you asked, a bit altered when he opened the door and let you in first, followed you and closed the door behind him.

“I just needed to be alone with you for a minute,” he clarified, you let your eyes wander around the small space where he got ready every day for the services instead of letting them settle on him, because you knew being that close to him wouldn’t help your situation at all “I wanted to apologize.”

You frowned and looked at him. He had his back almost glued to the door and his hands together, his thumbs fidgeting with each other.

“Apologize for what?” you muttered, and he sighed.

“I’m–I make you uncomfortable, and I’m sorry.”

Dave felt stupid telling you that, but it was his truth; he spent every free moment of his days when you weren’t near him thinking maybe it was because of him. It would make sense, that you didn’t want to be there because you didn’t like his closeness, that you didn’t want to be there because he was taking advantage of his position to steal glances and give furtive touches.

He understood, but you were an excellent woman, devoted and committed to the congregation, and he knew he needed to stop or you would leave and he would never see you again. And he couldn’t have that.

“You aren–you…” you babbled, and then the look he gave you made you lose your words.

His eyes were all over you. And you could feel them on your skin, how they took you in, how they navigated through your body and every inch of you was immediately on fire.

Then he looked at your face and you swore you could see in his brown eyes the deepest form of devotion there was. And your mouth was agape and your eyes filled with tears and suddenly he was in front of you and his hands were orbiting your face.

“Can I touch you?” he said, and you nodded.

He cupped your face, and you felt his warm, rough hands scorching your skin as you closed your eyes. His warmth started mixing with your own and you could feel him inside you already. It was as if everything you needed in life was already there.

“You don’t make me uncomfortable,” you whispered, closing your eyes as his fingers started caressing the skin of your face, tracing your features “I swear you don’t”

Dave let out a sigh when his thumb traced the edge of your lips and he so wanted to lean down and take them in his. There had been so long since he last kissed someone and he, for a split second, forgot everything about him and the only thought in his mind was you.

“I don’t?” he asked under his breath as a tear rolled down your cheek and he brushed it off with his knuckles, you shook your head and opened your eyes and he felt his heart fill with the purest love he had ever felt in his life “you swear?” you curled your lips up and nodded twice.

“Can I tell you something?” you muttered, looking up at him and losing yourself in the depths of his brown eyes.

“Always.”

You allowed your hands to slide to his shoulders and you let out a relieved sigh. They fit perfectly.

“Yo–you are…” he nodded his chin, his hands still cupping your face softly as his eyes studied your face, you let out a trembling sigh and grabbed as much courage as you had left within you “you are the man I’ve been thinking of all this time.”

Dave widened his eyes and the movements of his hands stopped, he looked at you, searching for any hint of mischief or lie, searching for something that could tell him you were lying, that you were playing with him. But there was none.

“That’s why I wasn’t here last week,” he heard you say as he felt his heart burn with the flames of his desire and love “I was embarrassed after what happened at the communion.”

You looked at him for a second, waiting for the rejection, waiting for him to tell you what you already know, that he can’t for you what you wanted him to be, that he can’t give you what you wanted as his duty was with God and not with the mortals, let alone with a woman.

Father Dave had resigned to the pleasures of the mundane world; you knew that, but you also knew he deserved to know, even if nothing would happen.

“Am I?” he asked you, bewildered after such confession, you nodded and moved your hands to cup his face, a gesture that made him close his eyes. You wondered when was the last time, if ever, he had been touched like that “we can’t” he replied, opening his eyes and leaning in to you.

You could feel his breathing mixing with yours as the implications of his words fell on you.

“We can’t” he repeated, pushing his forehead to yours as you trembled under his touch.

“You want to?” you asked him and Dave asked for guidance in his mind as you started crying and wetting his hands. He nodded, and you sobbed.

“I can’t” he whispered, and you shook your head as he looked at you pouring your feelings from your eyes.

“Kiss me.” you pleaded, looking into his brown, deep eyes. Making him frown.

“What?”

“If you’re not gonna give me anything, at least kiss me.”

His face quirked from confusion to pain in an instant, and you gripped the hold on his face.

“Please, Dave.”

Dave sighed at the way you whispered his name without calling him a father, and deep inside him he was grateful. With you he didn’t feel like a man of god, with you, letting him touch you and touching him back, he only felt like a man. Like the man he never got the chance to be.

“I–I” he started, and you shook your head. Dave looked into your eyes and all the air he had stored in his lungs left his body in a hurry, you were the most precious being he had ever seen, and for a second, he wanted nothing but to make worth the fact he had you in his hands “shit.” he said under his breath.

Dave brought your face up to him and printed his lips on yours, stealing the little air and the close to no coherence you still had in you. You let out a soft moan out of the surprise and out of the feeling of your entire body warming up to his temperature.

His lips were as soft and as wars and better than you had imagined, they were a bit dry and hesitant on yours, but the contact of them with yours made you feel like you were floating away from the realm of the living.

Dave didn’t want to stop kissing you. He didn’t remember the last time he had kissed a woman, and in that moment he wasn’t kissing any woman he was kissing you; the precious being that had been in his mind for weeks and that had never left.

Unsure of his movements, he let you take control of the contact and soon enough you were sliding the tip of your tongue along the seam of his lips, Dave let out a surprised grunt and opened his mouth slightly of you, and you took his lower lip with your mouth. And he let you kiss him all you wanted, enjoying the contact of your slow, wet, warm lips on his less experienced ones until he was sure his lungs were screaming from the lack of air.

When he broke the kiss, he left a small one on your forehead and pressed his lips there and you closed your eyes to feel him settle inside you

“I’m sorry.” you whispered to his neck. And he nodded slightly.

“Me too.”

“But I say to you that everyone who looks at a woman with lustful intent has already committed adultery with her in his heart.”–Matthew 5:28.

Sunday 6.

Your knuckles grazed softly with the sacristy door and you heard the muffled noise of the latch and the door opened.

“Hi,” you smiled and Dave looked at you up and down “got your text.”

“Come in.” he motioned his hand for you to hurry and you turned your head to both sides and walked into the sacristy, closed the door behind you and slid the latch.

Immediately after the door was locked, you felt his hands on your waist and his chin on your shoulder.

“This is why you texted me?” you teased and he moved to let a kiss on your jaw.

“I missed you.” he muttered and turned your body around for you to face him.

“You didn’t.” you smiled at him and wrapped your hands around his neck, grateful for the apparently deliberate choice of him to take off his tab collar.

“Yes, I did, I missed you all day.” Dave leaned towards you and took your lips in his, already knowing, after less than a week’s practice, how you loved being kissed.

His lips were as warm as they always were, his tongue barely present if not just to taste the sweetness of your lipstick, his hands always steady on your waist, and at the end, his forehead on yours, just taking in your breaths with his.

“Mass starts soon.” you said, and he nodded, sliding his hands to your middle back to wrap you closer to him.

“I know.” he left another brief kiss on your lips.

“You gotta get dressed.” you murmured against his lips.

“I know.” he muttered back and kissed you again.

“Want me to help?” you asked under your breath, just for him, as if you saying it as low as you could would stop God from listening.

“Yes, I would love that.” Dave replied and gave into another deep kiss that stole both your breath and made you want to stop the time so you could kiss until your lips fused together.

“C’mon you need to get ready.” you broke the kiss and stepped away from him, making him smile. You wandered around the sacristy and found his tab collar. You sighed and took it in your hands.

Dave looked at you and noticed the way you looked at the soft plastic piece, he walked towards you and raised his hand to grab yours. As you felt his hand on yours; you turned your head to look at him and smiled softly, and you moved your hands, raising them to carefully lift the collar of his shirt and clasp the piece around his neck.

“You okay?” he asked in a whisper, you nodded and bit your lip at the sight of him in front of you.

Dave moved and walked to the small table against a wall with a large bowl of water and you gazed at him as he washed his hands and whispered a few words. You leaned onto the wall just looking at him go to a small cabinet near the opposite corner and took a white, folded linen garment, which he unfolded and you recognized as the long robe he used under all his attire.

He slid it off and whispered another prayer again as he let it fall and graze his ankles. His eyes went to you and you smiled at him, he next grabbed a green square that you also recognized and you walked to him and took it out of his hands.

“Let me do it” you whispered, and he nodded, you unfolded the long stripe that was the stole and found its middle, Dave crouched a bit to help you and you let it fall around his neck over his shoulders.

“Return to me the stole of immortality,” he whispered, looking at your eyes, your throat dried at the deepness of his voice “which I have lost in the sin of my first parent and although I, unworthy,” he continued and took your hand in his “approach thy sacred mystery grant to me everlasting joy.”

You gripped his hands and felt your throat knotting around itself.

“Why are you praying to me?” you asked under your breath. He cupped your chin with one hand and brought you close to his face.

“You’re holy.” he whispered and left a soft kiss on your lips.

“Stop it.” you chastised him and he shook his head, giving you a soft smile that you reciprocated immediately.

You turned to the table and saw a long, golden cord and you took it.

“Not that one.” he muttered, and you frowned.

“Why not?” you saw him taking a deep breath as he took it from your hand and left it back on the table.

“The cincture… it means chastity and continence.” he replied under his breath and you let out all the air of your lungs as he took his chasuble and put it on without looking at you.

“Dave.” you called, and he lifted a hand to you as he said the last prayer. When he finished, he looked at you and as if he read your mind, he smiled at you and shook his head.

“Don’t,” he whispered, taking you again in his hands and pulling softly so your head rested on his shoulders “don’t apologize please.”

“I need to,” you mumbled against the light fabric of the green chasuble “I’m keeping you from your vow.”

Dave grabbed your shoulders and pulled you away from his body, his hands slid to your face and you gripped his wrists as he brought your face to his.

“You’re not doing anything, my love,” he muttered the last words directly on your lips as he stole a few kisses from your trembling mouth “you’re perfect,” he panted out and you shook your head “I’m doing this because I want to, please understand it,” he kissed you again, a bit more desperately “you’re the most divine creation I’ve ever laid my eyes and hands upon,” he whispered rapidly on your lips “and I want you to be mine.”

You gasped as the words left his mouth, and he gazed at you.

“Dave...” you started, but he didn’t let you finish, he wrapped his arms around you and brought your body to his, tightening the embrace as he thought of the implications of what he just asked.

Dave lifted his eyes to the ceiling and for the first time in years, with you slowly wrapping your arms around his waist, exactly over the place the cincture was supposed to go around, and the sweet aroma of your perfume inundating his senses, he felt really close to heaven.

“I want you to be mine too.” you whispered into his ear, and he smiled, leaving a kiss on top of your head.

“How beautiful and pleasant you are, O loved one, with all your delights!”–Song of Solomon 7:6.

Sunday 7.

You stirred on your seat again, the organ was playing the latest song before Dave would bless the congregation and wrap up the service and you were nervous.

You glanced at the crucified Jesus above him and you felt his eyes on yours; you felt him shove his holy hand on your chest and as the last notes of the song inundated the navel, you felt your throat sting with the green tint of your deep guilt, but at the same time, the rest of your body drown with the red warmth of your love and desire for Dave.

Is it worth it? you heard inside your head and your immediate response was yes.

Eternal damnation in exchange for a few hours of love. It was condemnedly worth it.

The service was over and you stood up with the rest of the congregation; you talked with a few people on your way out of the church and slowly and patiently you waited for everyone to disperse.

You walked around the gardens outside the church and slid between the gate that marked the beginning of Dave’s small house inside the church grounds. You rummaged around your small bag and pulled out the key he had given you earlier and with nervousness and the familiar guilt settled next to your heart; you let yourself into his house.

You turned on the lights. The space wasn’t big, but it wasn’t small and everything around smelled like him. For a priest’s home, the place lacked religious imagery, and you automatically chastised yourself for thinking about his priesthood again.

You sat on the loveseat next to the door as you waited for him and got dragged inside your head again; you talked about doing that throughout the week and you had agreed it was something you both wanted. But your head sent you through an unwanted train of thought and you sat there, thinking about the future. Something you hadn’t talked about.

After all, he would still be a priest and you would still be a young member of his congregation. You could spend time with him and let you love him and let him love you as much as you two wanted, but in the future… what else was there for you?

You could never ask him to leave his habit for you, you could never ask him to leave his life for you, you could never do something like that to him. But you were unsure if something like that had any other path but failure.

The door opened and there he was, unclasping his tab collar and dropping it on the end table as you rose from your seat and walked to him. He smiled at you and his hands found his place on your waist.

“You’re here.” he said, not surprised but relieved.

As he took off his attire in the sacristy and walked to his house from the church, he had a few minutes to think about what he was about to do. He didn’t allow himself to overthink it because if there was something he knew was that he wanted it; he wanted it more than he had wanted anything in his life. He couldn’t explain it even if he tried, but he knew there was something about you that made him feel human, there was something about you that made him feel like he belonged somewhere, maybe the way you talked to him, maybe the way you kissed him, maybe the way you always seemed to understand the moral and spiritual dilemma he was in. He didn’t know, but he knew that he loved you, even if he wasn’t supposed to, even when he wasn’t allowed.

And as he thought of it, love was one of the laws of the God he represented, and he felt it deeply.

“I’m here.” he pulled you to him as you wrapped your arms around his neck and nodded.

“Thank you.” you closed your eyes and bit your lip, shaking your head at him.

You felt his lips on yours as they re-discovered your kisses and his hands roamed to your middle back to press your chest to his.

You were amazed by how fast he had learned how you liked to be touched, how you liked to be kissed and caressed, as if he was just trying to commit to memory everything you ever wanted and he wanted to do it to you to please you.

Dave slid his hands from your back down to your hips and moved you softly to the side, without breaking the kiss he snaked his hands to the back of your thighs and lifted you. You smiled in his mouth and wrapped your legs around his waist as he walked to his bedroom.

When you crossed the doorframe you started leaving small kisses on the skin of his neck and he sat on the edge of his bed with you in his lap, you were already feeling the hardness growing inside his pants and his hands started grazing up and down your thighs as he let you taste his neck how you best pleased.

Dave was in a haze. He understood then the power of physical touch combined with deep love; it enhanced the sensations, the flame inside his chest was burning him from the inside out with a deep desire he was sure he had never felt before, and you were there, moving slowly on his lap as you devoured the skin of his neck and kissed slowly around his jaw.

“Dave,” you whispered as you licked his earlobe and pulled out a shiver from him, he hummed in question “touch me.”

He didn’t hesitate on questioning where, his hands roamed all around your body, they were big and warm and they were rough; you cupped his jaw with both hands and took his lips in yours with a wet, open-mouthed kiss that he followed as his hands snuck inside your shirt and you moaned softly at the feeling of skin to skin.

You moved out of his lap and stood up in front of him, Dave let out a soft whine at the sudden loss of your weight on his body but stopped when you moved his legs open and stood between them.

“Take off my shirt, please.” you told him, not in an order but he obeyed, he grabbed the hem of it and lifted it, you raised your arms and felt his lips on your rib side as you finished taking it off and dropped it on the floor behind you.

Dave put his hands around your torso and licked your skin experimentally, which made you gasp at the feeling of his wet tongue against your skin and he smiled to himself, doing it again and nibbling on the same spot softly.

His hands slid to your waist and without being told to he unbuttoned your jeans and dragged them down slowly, his eyes directly on yours. You smiled at him with your reddened, kiss-swollen lips and he felt your smile settling inside his lower belly, his cock twitching inside his pants.

You put your hands on his shoulders as he helped you out of your shoes and jeans and when you were there, standing in front of him only in your underwear, he swore there wasn’t anything more divine than your body.

You sank on your knees and your hands landed on his thighs, Dave’s throat clutched and his chest turned as you smiled at him and your hands slid to his belt, you raised your eyebrows as if asking for permission and he nodded a few times, leaning backward into his hands to give you space for you to do whatever you wanted to him.

You unbuckled his belt and opened his pants, his breath hitched when your fingers hooked to the hem of both his pants and his boxers, and then he lifted his hips for you to pull them off him. Dave smiled when he saw you bite your lip at the sight of his hard cock resting on his abdomen. It did something unexpected on what he thought was his dead ego, but he loved the way you looked at it.

“Take off your shirt.” you said and again, without it being an order, he obeyed. Unbuttoned it as quickly as he could and slid it off his shoulders as you leaned over his lap and took his erection on your hand, your thumb grazing softly the tip and he threw his head back between his shoulders.

“Oh, my love.” he sighed out as you started pumping slowly and when he closed his eyes, you licked the underside and wrapped your lips around the tip, making him gasp.

You took it slowly, enjoying the taste of his pre-cum as it came out of him, pumping the rest you couldn’t fit inside your mouth with your hand.

Dave forced his eyes open and moved his head down to watch you, he shivered when he found you already looking at him; he moved his hand to your face and with his knuckles caressed your cheek, making you smile with his cock inside your mouth.

For him, looking at you on your knees between his legs was like looking at a sacrosanct painting; your lips around him taking as much of his length as you could, your saliva dripping from his dick to your hand, bobbing your head up and down as your eyes, those holy eyes that never left his, it was a pleasure he never thought he would get in his earthly life.

He felt himself close to cumming, and he pushed your head softly upwards, you rose from your knees and clashed your messy lips onto his and he wrapped his arms around your waist, his large hands roaming around the skin of your back. His fingers played with the back of your bra and he broke the kiss for a few seconds to unhook it and help you slide it off, you smiled when he sighed at the sight of your breasts in front of his face and he pulled you flush against his head, taking a nipple in his mouth.

The warmth of his mouth and the wetness of his tongue around the soft skin of your nipple made you cry out his name softly and arousal gathered between your legs. One of his hands rested on your other boob and kneaded delicately as you fisted his hair in your hand. Dave moved his mouth to your other nipple and lapped at it before trapping it inside his mouth, you pressed his head to your chest and let out a moan when his teeth grazed your nipple as he released it.

“I wanna taste you.” he muttered against your boob and you smiled at him, nodding.

He moved you softly to lie down on the bed; the sheets were cool and soft and he stood on the edge, taking you in again, studying your body.

He leaned down to you and you opened your legs to make space for him; he hovered over your body and kissed you again, softly, as if you were back in time to the first kiss he gave you in the sacristy, as if he wasn’t about to devour your body.

His kisses traveled from your mouth to your neck and your chest, he left one in each nipple, making you laugh, he left a trail of them over your belly and one over your belly button. As he kissed your abdomen and your thighs, you looked at the ceiling and you smiled at whoever was watching.

Dave took the hem of your panties on his fingers and you lifted your hips for him to slip them off you, you lifted your legs and he unhooked them from your ankles, grabbing your calves and opening your legs again. He gulped when he saw your wet, expectant pussy right in front of him and looked at your flushed face. He leaned down and left kisses around your thighs without breaking eye contact.

“Guide me.” he whispered and left a kiss right over the hood of your clit, making you moan.

You nodded once, and he looked at your pussy, opened the lips gently with his fingers and blew on your slick folds, making you shiver. He flattened his tongue and licked from your slit to your clit, tasting your arousal, moaning at the richness of it.

You slid your hand to your clit and looked at him.

“Here.” you mumbled, circling a few times to show him how. He had told you he had sex before his ordination, because he didn’t want to go into his holy orders without having experienced it and wondering for the rest of his life what he had missed, but he said it wasn’t as good as he thought it would be and before you, he thought he would never know. So you had to show him what you wanted and what you liked because his experience wasn’t vast.

Dave did as you showed and you moaned out loud, the pads of his fingers were warmer and bigger than yours and he was handling you so delicately you were already on edge.

He kept licking and circling your clit and then, without a second thought, he moved his fingers away and started circling your clit with his tongue.

“Oh m–my god,” you fisted his hair, pushing his face into your pussy and he pressed your hips onto the mattress, looking at your face with your mouth opened in pleasure and your eyes closed shut “Dave ke–keep doing that baby,” you pleaded and he did it, and started playing the pad of one of his fingers on your slit, making your hips buck slightly he saw you pant and smiled when you slid your free hand to play with your nipple so he added a second one to play with your entrance “inside, put them inside.” you said under your breath and he pushed his fingers slowly inside your cunt, making you let out a long moan of his name, he started pumping and curling his fingers inside as he had imagined you doing it all those weeks ago while touching himself in the shower and closed his eyes to hear you moan his name as he brought you closer and closer to pleasure.

He moved his fingers faster inside of you and hand fisted and pulled his hair as your moans became tamed screams and he thought of them as the most pious symphony that he and only him had the sacred pleasure to hear.

You wrapped a leg around his shoulders as you felt the knot inside your belly explode from his ministrations and you chanted his name over and over as he worked you through your orgasm. You panted for a few seconds and opened your eyes to the sight of Dave licking his fingers clean. You smiled at him and released his hair to motion him to come to you; he hovered over your body again and you put your hand on his nape to bring him to you; you moaned softly at your own taste and you felt it smile on your lips.

“What?” you asked in a whisper.

“Did you like it?” he asked back on your lips, you nodded and cupped his clean-shaven jaw, leaving a deep kiss on his lips.

“I loved it,” he smiled, and you wrapped your legs around his waist and felt his cock brushing lightly against your folds. “make love to me, Dave.”

You saw his smile widen, and it was his turn to nod to you, he kissed you again while his hand worked on aligning himself to you; he slid the tip through your folds and you gasped on his mouth when he found your entrance and started pushing in.

He did it slowly, no rush; he wanted to feel you in every inch of his cock; he wanted you to feel him and every ridge and vein of him as he found his home in you.

You nipped at his lip as he bottomed up and smiled when he stayed there, inside you, enjoying the wait for your body to acclimate to his, you looked into his eyes and you felt it.

You felt how you two fit together like pieces of a puzzle.

As if his body was made for you and your body was made for him.

It felt right.

It felt sacred.

Dave started moving at a calmed pace and you with him, quickly finding a rhythm where your hips moved almost in unison and he thrusted into you deeply every time he moved. He was supporting his weight on one arm next to you while the other gripped your hip and helped you with the tantalizing dance you both were having.

He hid his face in the crook of your neck when your hands moved to his back and you pulled his body down to yours, his chest gliding yours and his hips circling as he thrusted faster into you.

Dave moaned into your neck when you scratched his back as his thrusts became pounds.

“Harder, please, baby, harder.” you whispered into his ear and he listened, driving into you as fast as his body allowed, the noise of his skin clashing with yours and the wetness of you leaking around his cock flooded the room and his moans grew louder and you dug your nails into his skin chanting his name as you got closer and closer to your second release.

“Yo–you’re a goddess,” he muttered into the skin of your neck as his cock grazed your cervix, his hand wrapped around your hips and he lifted your ass for him to thrust deeper, making you moan his name loudly “you’re m–my go–goddess.”

You slid your hands to his ass and fisted his buttcheeks, pushing him further into you.

Dave felt his orgasm closer and closer every time he drove into you and your warm walls started to clench around him with the closeness of your orgasm, he nibbled the skin of your neck and clutched his eyes shut tighter when his body started to stiffen as he pounded into you; he muttered your name a few times like a prayer he never knew he needed to make, and it sounded right, your name in his voice as he drove himself and you to climax, his own name on your sweet voice as you begged him for everything he had in himself, it was all right, it was all correct, there was nothing wrong, how could he had felt so guilty about it when it was the most perfect, most righteous, most sacred, most heavenly action he could do.

You in his arms, your hands on his body, his cock inside your cunt, you wrapped around him begging him to cum inside you, everything about it was all he could have asked for to feel like he was in heaven. He had almost said no to feel it, and he bursted inside you at the same time as you broke in pieces around him, thinking that he would rather live his life with you around him than his afterlife in heaven.

“I love you.” he muttered against the skin of your neck and you opened your eyes after riding the high of your orgasm and looked at the ceiling.

You frowned when you heard his words and when you remembered what he said to you before he came, and as you turned to the side to see him that red warmth you had felt earlier disappeared almost completely and the bright green taint of the deep guilt inside you washed over your body and your soul.

He looked at you and narrowed his eyes. His expression changed as he realized you weren’t going to answer his confession.

“Dave,” you whispered and his face changed, his brow furrowed and you saw his jaw tighten “what did we just do?”

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[antiloreolympus]

10 Anti LO Asks

1. even ignoring how silly the AOW is and how the nymphs are just fodder for persephone's "story", imagine how insulting it would be to likely end up hades' "eternal free labor" only to find out your "sister" had been living and working down in the underworld for weeks & 1) never mentioned or tried to see you and 2) made a bigger point to try and resurrect/pay for the people who KILLED YOU?? like persephone just ends up looking like she cares more about her reputation than her supposed "sisters"???

2. even ignoring the fact theyre the /same exact color/, why are we supposed to buy "the twins are zeus' kids" as some twist? rachel this is greek mythology even the most amateur fan would know it's more of a surprise if someone /isnt/ his kid. then again she wants us to buy "persephone is a fertility goddess" is a shocking twist as if  she's not literally a spring and vegetation goddess?? like yeah no shit she's a fertility goddess. hades is one too as well as most deities.

3. we have panels of daphne that went through rachel's sketches (which if they were  as fully rendered as she claims on instagram this wouldnt be an issue), inks, flats, colors, rachel putting in the dialogue, AND an editor looking at them and they cant keep the colors correct and straight up don't have her pointy ears and blue splotches gone. say what you will on more traditional comic and graphic novel publication, but at least you know youre getting a well produced product over this rushed mess.

4. that's honestly the thing tho? LO really is the most lazy trope-d, uninspired story if we really break it down. No tropes are subverted or shown in a creative way, plots are random and undeveloped if not dropped completely, they talk so much (!!) yet still remain so flat with little to no progression, and there is really no themes or messages beyond ... I'm not sure, poor people are bad? "Feminism" is when your world revolves around a man and female relationships are abusive? Classism is good?

5. Why does every single Eris redesign have her with long locks of feather hair? Can't a woman have a shaved head? A buzzcut? Or is that not 'feminine' enough for her fans 🙄

6. Nyx, to hades: “I had half a mind to steal you myself from your mother”

Also Nyx: *throws her actual child away to a piece of shit tyrant who is not good at all with kids*

Thank you Rachel for this great character consistency 😩

7. I'm not inherently against the idea of Hera knowing about Persephone's assault (though I'm not sure why she'd know just off touch?) however I do not understand why we're supposed to root for her going behind Persephone's back and telling it to others without her consent? Even making Hephaestus see the actual act, which is a huge breach of consent. I get it's supposed to be her helping, but it just seems like even Persephone's trauma isn't her own, it's for others to do as they please with it.

8. I hate how so many people excuse LO's poor writing and art as "that's how Webtoons are" as if they don't have countless beautifully written and drawn comics on there that get critic praise and awards without WT's massive marketing campaign behind them like they do for LO. There is a ton of talent and wonderful products on there that don't deserve to be dragged down because of LO's lacking quality having more focus. LO is the cheap fast food kiddie meal in a sea of high quality, gourmet options.

9. It honestly feels like the writing in LO is just Rachel going off overused tropes with nothing new added to it, fans comments, and thinking she's more clever than she is by doing random ideas and thinking it's "subversive". like ma'am, just listen to your editor and actually write something decent over trying to overcomplicate the story even more to make it seem more "serious" and thinking you're reinventing the wheel.

10. IDK why some of yall say Eris couldn't be a kid of Hera and Zeus (in myth) as they are the definition of a discord full relationship. Like they had the God of War and the Goddess of Bloodshed, how would discord be out of the question? Though, regardless, the only reason she's their kid in LO isn't Rachel thinking she's being "accurate" but rather needing a scapegoat for Persephone (reverse character development! RS is such a visionary) and to be like "see? all of Zeus' kids are bad!"

From OP: I wouldn’t say it’s a “all his kids are bad” thing since Hephaestus and Hebe are good. LO is just framing Zeus a a bad father in general, Eris being an exception since he had good reason to kick her out.

(I didn’t including Artemis and Apollo since he never had the chance to be their dad/involved in their lives until now.)

[h0rnyshakespeare]

can i request some todoroki angst ? that one who will really hurts! ty :)

Her

Pairings: Todoroki x reader (unrequited), Todoroki x Momo

Genre: Angst

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1k

A/N: Tysm for requesting! Yall real masochists huh Requests are open, send them in! Please my inbox is empty I wrote this to be gn!reader but if anywhere implies otherwise, please let me know :)

Based on Heather by Conan Gray

You and Shouto had been friends since you were younger, although your time together was limited before you both came to UA as Shouto was constantly training with his father. Even so, you both knew each other very well, and were constantly seen around each other. One could even go as far as to call you best friends, even though you wished you were more. Oh, how you wished you were more.

It did not help that you two were so close, and that Shouto was usually so nice to you, often without realising. Like the time you two were walking back to the dorms one night. The air was chilly, and you were unconsciously rubbing your arms in an attempt to keep yourself warm. “Cold?” Shouto had asked you, making you realise what you were doing. “Haha, not really,” you said, but he saw right through you. He always did. He swiftly took off the sweater he was wearing and handed it over to you. “Here,” he said. You looked at him, surprised. “Aren’t you going to be cold, Sho?” “No, Y/N, harsh climates have never really had any effect on me because of my quirk,” he said, softly smiling as you put on his sweater. The smile rarely seen by anyone, if at all. “Besides, it looks better on you than me.” You felt your cheeks heat up. “Liar,” you said, pushing his arm. “But it’s true, Y/N,” he said sincerely. “Dummy. You’re too nice for your own good,” you huffed, turning so he would not see your flustered expression. That was a December few years ago. Back then everything seemed so simple. You had not told him about the feelings you held towards him, content with what you two had. Besides, what if things got awkward between the two of you if he did not like you back?

And you were right.

You had seen how he looked at her. At her. Not at you. Of course, you had not been surprised. Momo was way smarter, talented, prettier. She was better than you in every way. So why did it hurt so much? When you saw him offer her the very sweater he’d given you what seemed like an eternity ago? When you saw them talking happily together? When he announced that they were dating? When he had started to spend more and more time with her, and less with you? And you’d felt terrible for feeling this way. As a friend to both Momo and Shouto, you were supposed to support them and be happy for them, and you were, just… you really wished you were Momo. You wished you were as amazing as her, after all, she was good enough for Shouto and you were not. The two of you were drifting apart as Momo was now Shouto’s number one priority aside from becoming a top pro hero, meaning he put her before everyone else. Even you. You often thought to yourself, did you deserve this? You were the one who stuck by his side ever since he was younger, ever since all the shit with his family happened. Did Momo really know that side of him as well as you did, if at all? You felt wrong for feeling this way, but after all, you were human too. A few of your close friends in class 1A knew how you felt towards him, yet they had sworn they would keep it all a secret from Momo, because you knew that if she knew, she’d feel guilty for making her friend feel this way. “God, why was she such an angel? Is this why Shouto chose her?” were thoughts running through your head one day as you ran to your dorm room, feeling tears form in your eyes. “No, no, no, not in public, Y/N! Hold on a little longer til you get to your dorm-” Your thoughts were interrupted as you bumped into something… or someone. “You ok?” you heard Shouto say. You looked up, feeling a little better that he had acknowledged you, until you saw that you had bumped into Momo, who had fallen as well. “I’m fine, love,” she smiled and accepted his hand as he pulled her up. Your heart broke as you realised he was never talking to you, causing the tears you were holding back to break the dam you were holding up, letting out a small whimper. Momo heard you and turned around. “Y/N! I’m so sorry, here, let me-” “It’s fine, Yaomomo,” you said, somehow managing a smile. She looked at you, worried. “Are you sure? You don’t look ok, are you hurt?” You shook your head. “I should get going,” you said softly to hide the sobs clear in your voice. You could feel Shouto’s eyes on you, but you hadn’t said anything. You’d simply walked past him into your dorm, where you shut the door and cried. It hurt so much, but there was not anything you could do about it.

And here you were, about seven years later, listening to the priest talk about holy matrimony as you sat next to Ochako, Bakugou, Kirishima, Jirou, Deku and all your other friends from class 1A. It still hurt, to see Momo, as stunning as ever in her white dress, next to the boy- no, next to the man you loved instead of you. Shouto looked radiant, his face, usually devoid of emotion, showing so much of happiness and love towards her. Her. Not you. You could feel the sympathizing gaze of the few who knew that you still had feelings for Shouto, making you feel embarrassed, annoyed even. Why did he have to cause you to feel such pain by simply being happy? Happy without you? It was cruel, really. Here he was, moving forward, getting married, while you were still pining after someone you were never meant to be with. Oh, well. As long as he was happy, that was all that mattered.

[river-bottom-nightmare]

zatanna said the word anchor point, and that's where she lost dick. anchor points and multiversal constants and universal stability. galaxies shattering into pieces behind his eyelids before swirling together tighter and more whole, before dick would inevitably wake, the lights from that goddamn recurring dream still flashing in his mind.

constantine was looking at him with sympathy, pity. dick wanted to wipe that look off his face with bleach. with acid. he normally wouldn't consider fighting john constantine, since he's always been able to sense the sheer power bubbling under the man's drunken and sloppy exterior. though, apparently, that ability to sense was what could possibly give him the edge in the fight he was imagining, but would never happen.

there were only a few people in the room, but someone would rip him off the man. maybe clark, whose features were painted with worry and concern. that, and the lights from the galaxies outside the watchtower windows, the eternity of the galaxy covering the entire room in a gentle wash that dick had been able to ignore for all of his life, excluding the past couple of hours. maybe diana, who was starting to look at dick with a bit of fear. not of him, but for him, and for everybody else. dick couldn't blame her. she had more than enough experience with powerful men who made themselves god. the only difference was that dick would rather let himself burn up from the flame that was inside of him before becoming whatever they said he was.

it's not about becoming, raven whispered in his mind. her presence was gentle, familiar. it took a certain length of self control for dick not to latch onto her, about the length of rope needed to make a noose. you already are. there are no new powers or abilities or anything that will happen to you. you always were a nexus being, and you always will be. it's just a part of you.

"just a part of him." just a part of him? like how wally's slowly failing heart had just been a part of him? or how jason's pit-induced fits of rage were just a part of him? or how cass' assassin training she fell back on no matter how hard she tried to override it was just a part of her?

bruce hadn't said anything. actually, zatanna had stopped talking, not that dick had been fully listening in the first place, and everyone was lost in their own quiet thoughts. but bruce's silence had been the most stomach-churning, the most horrific.

dick knew bruce didn't like metas. knew it because of the sighs he used to make due to the league's foolishness back when dick was robin, running a hand through dick's ruffled hair and telling him he was so glad you're not like them, dick, they're exhausting. he knew it because of bruce's fury every time someone powerful fought in gotham and destroyed the city, rubble on the ground as they went off, completely unconcerned of the damage they left behind. he knew it because of the extensive files in the batcomputer detailing each league-affiliated and known meta's weakness, or how their strength could be flipped like a playing card, until dick was almost convinced being a meta made one weaker. (according to bruce, it did.)

bruce didn't like metas. and dick wasn't a meta, but no one knew what he was anyway. no one but the magic users, whose vague explanations told them they weren't really sure what he was either.

"you're connected to the universe, dick," zatanna sighed. "the multiverse comes together in you. and as much as i don't like it, we need you."

all eyes were on him. dick was looking at his feet, but he could still feel them. that was one of his new "powers," right? knowledge of the multiverse? a gross misuse and bitter accusation, dick knew. but he couldn't get the fear out of his mind, and fear left unchecked grew fuzzy with mold until it disintegrated into anger.

"you need me?" dick said hoarsely. "the multiverse, what, comes together in me? you do realize what utter bullshit that sounds like?"

"i know it don't seem all that good, but trust me," constantine said. "it's a thing. it's real. you are one."

"you said these people are supposed to be beings of power," dick argued back. "so why aren't you a nexus being? or raven? or fucking ra's al ghul. i'm sure as hell not a being of power. i'm human."

"i suppose that's exactly what makes you one," diana murmured. "i have met many powerful men in my life. i've found the ones that i respected the most were the ones that were most in touch with their humanity."

this was crazy. this was crazy. dick felt like the particles that came together to make him were blowing away in confusion until he was one big cloud of unrecognizable light, before he was scattered in every direction. how the hell was he supposed to be one of the things that kept the universe together when he couldn't even keep his own damn self together?

avoiding bruce wasn't working. dick just felt like he was about to fray at the edges. so, gathering up his courage, dick turned to face the man and quietly, in a voice more delicate than china, said, "b?"

batman didn't look at him. batman didn't even look up. but batman did speak.

"alternate universe superman. he called you the multiversal constant. the one thing he could depend on."

out of the corner of his eye, dick could see clark nodding a little.

bruce continued. "you named yourself after a mythological figure who was known as the catalyst of change. or the great rebuilder. and kryptonians we've met have said how well you embody the role."

"it's...it's just a name, bruce."

"you, of all people, know it's not," clark said.

"so what am i supposed to do, huh?" dick whirled around. "fight this battle zee's recruiting me for that's entirely above my skill level. become some sort of, what did you say, universal anchor? i don't know the first thing about this shit, and i don't know what it'll do to me!"

"you're scared," bruce said, always willing to cut right to the chase with everyone but himself.

dick didn't answer.

"raven, establish a mental link between me and nightwing."

raven nodded, then with a flutter of her hands, dick felt a presence inside his head. it scared him to realize how easily he accepted it, how easily he had always accepted it. he never understood how unusual that was until now.

of course i'm scared, dick whispered into the mind link. i've gone my entire life knowing exactly who i was, what i could do, what i strive to be. and in the span of one day, that's all gone.

then what do you plan to do about it? bruce asked.

he said it so simply, so easily. like discovering something this monumental about himself was just another tricky case or difficult puzzle to solve. dick would have an easier time plucking each and every star in the galaxy and making a mosiac out of them.

raven's hood was lowered, but dick could still feel her eyes on him. constantine's features were still dripping in pity, zee looked imploring. diana was looking at him with hesitating acceptance, bruce was unreadable as always.

but clark. clark was looking at him with steady eyes and and a kind smile. he looked knowing, quietly vindicated. it was as if he'd known there was something...off about dick. something two hopscotches and a backbend away from "special," but close enough. something that had led to clark giving dick a piece of his people's legacy, and trusting him to fulfill it to the best of his ability.

clark wasn't scared of him at all. but clark couldn't make up for bruce.

"will you help?" zatanna asked.

everything inside dick was itching to say yes. jumping at the chance to help his friends, aching to be useful. it was a response he'd carefully cultivated years ago, and pushing it down was an almost physical ache.

but the stardust behind his eyes wasn't so easily forgotten. the hook behind his navel that seemed to drag him into the fabric of a universe that dick couldn't comprehend still dug into him. the world was spinning and the stars were turning and the earth was tumbling over itself, all of them in an effort to stop their twisting and turning and to right themselves once and for all. but dick wasn't moving. dick was completely, utterly still.

"i don't know," he said.

Dick Grayson Anniversary Week ‘21, Day 6: Universal Constant

"i don't know," the author says, because she truly has no idea what the fuck she just wrote. i started imagining nexus dick grayson and this just spilled out onto the page. it makes absolutely no sense, but there are some nice sentences in there that i don't want to get rid of, so hopefully yall can somewhat make sense of this ramen soup of a fic.

tag list: @woahjaybird @birdy-bat-writes @anothertimdrakestan @screennamealreadyused @subtleappreciation @bikoncon @catxsnow @pricetagofficial @maplumebleue-blog-blog @sundownridge @thatsthewhump @dickgraysonweek

[sassyhobbits]

hi julia 💙 tinder au? i have just fallen in love with it

ok yall. here it is. the highly requested and long awaited tinder au. i probably have like 20 messages on my inbox rn asking for this.

anyway, here's day 3 for yall!! enjoy!!

pt 1 // pt 2 // pt 3 // pt 4

~~~

Rowan Whitethorn was the mastermind behind his own misery.

He had been kicking himself for his stupidity for the past week, ever since that godsdamned wedding he had gone to with Aelin. The event had confirmed his suspicions: he liked Aelin Galathynius. A lot.

And it was his own fault that he hadn’t asked her out.

He had been the one to say that they should remain coworkers and nothing more. He had just been so shocked to see the woman he had matched with on Tinder at his place of employment he hadn’t really known what to do. So, he said something foolish.

For a while now, Rowan’s attraction towards Aelin had been growing. It had been easy to ignore at first, brushing it off and contributing it to the fact that she was a pretty woman. But, even in those months where Aelin had enraged him, she still managed to enthrall him. He thought about her smile far too often. About the dusting of freckles on the bridge of her nose, the sound of her laugh, the smell of her perfume. Mostly, he thought about the dances that they had shared at that wedding. A small taste of what could have been if Rowan hadn’t been such a rutting idiot.

If he could take back that foolish decision, he would.

Now, his choice haunted him everyday. He would watch Aelin at work, see other men and women give her appreciative looks and flirty smiles, leaving Rowan in a constant state of morbid anticipation, waiting for the day she reciprocated some of that attention and he would be left behind.

Rowan lingered by the personal training desk, knowing he should be planning the workouts for his clients for the week, but his attention was pinned across the gym. Aelin was working today with a new client that he had never seen. He was in his mid-twenties, tall, blonde. Good looking, and obviously very smitten with his trainer. Rowan ground his jaw as the man sent a charming smile to Aelin. He wished her back wasn’t turned towards him so he could have seen how she responded.

“Keep on clenching your jaw like that and you’re going to break a tooth,” a feminine voice said teasingly.

Rowan tore his gaze away from Aelin, finding Lysandra leaning against the desk, ivory cheeks flushed pink from her own workout.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Lysandra scoffed and rolled her eyes at the obvious lie. “You may be fooling yourself, Rowan Whitethorn, but you’re sure as hell not fooling me.”

Rowan pressed his lips together tightly, looking back at his clipboard and trying to ignore the woman beside him. However, that wasn’t suitable for Lysandra.

“If you ask her out she’ll say yes,” she said casually.

Rowan scoffed. “She seems perfectly happy with that pretty-boy over there.”

“She’s settling for that pretty boy over there because you aren’t giving her the attention she deserves.”

Rowan sighed and looked back at the woman beside him dryly. Her dark brows were narrowed, lips pinched in annoyance. It was clear she wasn’t happy with him.

“Listen, Rowan,” she continued, “I’m not going to tell you what to do. But I will tell you that if you don’t get your shit together and finally ask Aelin out, she’s going to move on. And you’re going to make yourself extra miserable.”

Rowan didn’t have a response for that, simply holding Lysandra’s gaze more a moment longer before she stomped away towards the locker rooms, leaving him alone at the desk.

Deep down, he knew that she was right. Just watching Aelin conversing and mildly flirting with another man was driving him crazy. He didn’t know how he’d feel if she actually returned one of her many admirers' sentiments. Pissed off, most likely, that he had missed his chance. And that he had no one to blame but himself.

That was likely the thing that had been holding him back for so long. Admitting that he had been wrong. Gods, there was nothing worse. Absolutely nothing.

Rowan didn’t want to admit that he was biding his time, but he was. Waiting for Aelin to be finished with her client so that he could make his move. And potentially suffer a thorough tongue-lashing from the object of his desire. He couldn’t imagine that she would find it amusing that he was coming crawling back after being the one to request the space between them in the first place.

After what felt like an eternity, Aelin and her client finally made their way off the gym floor. They stood not too far away from him, but with the music and the sound of others chatting, he couldn’t really hear what they were saying. He pretended he didn’t notice them, anyway.

Eventually, they said their goodbyes, the man sending Aelin one last flirty smile until he swaggered off in the direction of the locker rooms.

Luckily for him, Rowan didn’t even have to muster up the courage to go up to Aelin. She instead came over to him, leaning over the desk and grabbing her own clipboard. What pissed him off was that she barely even seemed to notice him.

“Hey,” she breathed casually, jotting something down.

“Hello, Galathynius.” Good gods, why did he sound so stiff?

He waited a few more heartbeats, hoping that she would strike up a conversation, but she was terribly focused on whatever it was that she was writing.

Rowan quickly grew tired of waiting.

“Are you going out with that guy?”

Aelin’s pen froze mid stroke, and Rowan’s instincts told him that he had said something wrong, and danger was lurking near. She looked up to him, a wicked tilt to her golden head.

“Would it be a problem if I was?” she drawled.

Rowan ground his jaw, refusing to back down at the fire in her eyes. “Don’t go out with him.”

Aelin blinked once before scoffing. She tossed her clipboard to the side, spreading in legs in what Rowan could only describe as a fighting stance and crossing her arms over her chest. “You cannot be serious right now.”

Rowan stood straighter. “I’m completely serious. Don’t go out with him.”

“You must be smoking something if you think you have any say over who I do or do not go out with.” She pointed a well-manicured finger at him. “Let me remind you that you were the one who said we should just be coworkers.”

“Believe me, I remember.”

“Then what changed your mind so suddenly? Huh?”

“You did, Aelin.”

For once, it didn’t seem that Aelin had a snappy response up her sleeve for this one. Rowan seized the rare moment of silence, taking a deep breath to steel himself before moving closer and continuing.

“Aelin… I really like you,” he began. “I have since we met. Before that, even. I had been so excited to meet you in person after talking that night and then you were here and you were my coworker and I… I reacted stupidly.”

Aelin’s lips were pressed together tightly, a sign that she wouldn’t interrupt until he said what he had to say.

“I was afraid of what might happen if something went wrong,” Rowan admitted. “If we went out and you realized you didn’t like me as much as I liked you, and I had to see you every day at work and be reminded of that. I was a coward because I didn’t want to face that particular torture. But… I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. And I know that if I never admitted it, I would regret it for the rest of my life.”

There were a few moments of painful silence as Aelin considered his words.

“So, what?” Aelin said. “You just expect me to jump into your arms now that you decided you were finally ready to grow a pair and ask me out? You think I was just going to wait for you?”

“No. I know you’d never wait for a man. I know that you’re strong and independent. I’d never expect that from you but…” Rowan reached out slowly, taking her hand into his and giving her fingers a firm squeeze. “I hope that you’ll be able to forgive my stupidity and let me take you out on a real date soon.”

For a few, too long heartbeats, Aelin stared down at where he held her hand. Rowan had never felt more nervous than he had in that moment. It was maddening.

But, she eventually tilted her head up, and her face had softened, a smile on those full lips of hers. She gave his hand a squeeze.

“Gods, I thought you would never ask.”

It was Rowan’s turn to smile, beaming at the woman before him. “So, that’s a yes?”

She nodded once. “It is. You can pick me up at eight tonight. I expect something nice, I want to dress up.”

“I look forward to it.”

Aelin laughed, a beautiful sound, before she closed the distance between them and brushed a soft kiss against his cheek, thoroughly stunning him as she slipped away, smiling at him the entire time.

“And don’t forget the flowers,” she called, striding across the gym. “Kingsflame are my favorite.”

“Noted.”

Aelin held his gaze for another wonderful moment before she turned, striding over to meet with a woman he recognized as one of her regular clients. Once he was sure she was no longer watching, he brushed his fingers over the spot where she had kissed him which still burned pleasantly.

He would make sure everything went perfectly tonight. There was no way in hell that he would mess it up and ruin his chance with this amazing woman. Aelin was unlike anyone he had ever met before.

He knew one thing for sure. Aelin Galathynius was the one for him.

[dreamii-yume]

New Episode Update Let’s GOO!!!

Warning : This is just Yume having a mental breakdown, seriously. This episode update was WHACK.

~ MAJOR SPOILERS FOR 68-75 ~

I know we ain’t participating and all but the game reminding you that there’s 10 minutes left to prepare is seriously bad for my heart.

Aah, shiet. Vil is still hurt.

He still has small wounds and scratches that he hid make up. Daddy, I’m worried.

Apparently, yeah, I’m not the only one cause my homeboy, Epel just asked to switch the center role with Vil. THE CONFIDENCE.

Aw, he’s worried about him falling over during stage (And make the performance look bad) Come on, Epel just be honest-

...He finally became the ideal poisoned apple that Vil wanted, huh?

Vil being proud a mom.

But the queen inside him is STRONG.

He’ll embrace the villain in him, OUR QUEEN CAN STILL GO. INJURED, WHO?

...AAND he proceeds to roast Epel again lol Typical Vil.

I love how Epel just accepted a nickname like “Doku Ringo-chan” lol It’s so cute, senior-junior relationship goals right there.

HERE WE GO.

Everyone is actually really confident hahaha

I really wish Deuce’s mom, Ace’s brother, Jamil’s sister, and Vil’s dad were here in person to watch.

HECK I WANT KALIM’S WHOLE FAMILY HERE WHY NOT

T-THEY’RE REALLY LETTING US HEAR THE FULL SONG. 

IS THAT JAMIL RAPPING.

Look at Jamil’s solo SD dancing. LOOK AT IT.

I really fucking love Vil’s singing voice aaa

HIS VOICE IS SO GOOD.

Album when disney.

Is Vil okay.

...aight im hearing some high quality panting here

...dont mind me listening to it a bit too much...

...they’re going to be great reference for some spicy- leave me alone

Vil panting is making me feel SOMETHING.

ANYWAY. THE CROWD IS A MOOD.

IS VIL OKAY.

Unmei no megami is giving me idia ptsd here.

Heartslabyul Senpais are watching their kids, looking all proud *sniff

Oh god, after playing Obey Me, it just occurred to me how similar Cater and Asmodeus’ voices are...

Watch these Senpai dorks act like Ace and Deuce’s second family. Trey being the dad, Riddle being the mom, and Cater being the supportive big bro. It’s so beautiful.

Riddle’s voice is a lot more softer now, I just realized...It’s so soothing...

God i miss u too octavinelle never change

Yeah, why tf did Floyd not audition for this

Bro, can you imagine Nobuhiko Okamoto in the squad as well??? IMAGINE-

Of course, he wasn’t in the mood back then. Of course. Why did i even ask.

IMAGINE FLOYD BEING IN VDC NEXT YEAR.

Omg i miss u too octavinelle never change

Azul’s gonna overblot again with Floyd’s marketing skills lol

Jade coming in like welp i guess thats that. Too bad, huh Azul?

GOD i miss u too octavinelle never change

SAVANA BITCHES HI

I wonder if these mfs knew that Vil just overblotted and malmal was the one who fixed the stage lol

oooh Leona’s sus about something he a sharp boi

Speak up my guy—

still so weird leona taking his job seriously

Malleus looking happier seeing this performance rather than Lilia’s lol

I miss the simpery in Sebek

Silver’s not in the verge of falling into a coma for once wow

Chenya’s so cute.

AND WE’RE BACK TO CUTE HEIGH HO TEAM

fcking shotacons man...im not one to talk

Aw, they didn’t show Neige performance...

The simping in the crowd is a MASSIVE mood.

WHO WINS TELL ME

These night raven fuckers better vote for us and not pull a “oh shie my hand slipped lololol” i swear to god- im gonna throw hands

*me holding my phone and pretending to vote as well

Suspense music intensifies be like-

HAAA

BOIS, ITS ONE VOTE DIFFERENCE WHO IS IT AAAA

WHAT.

HOW DARE- HOW!? HOW DID WE LOSE!?

WE LOST BY ONE VOTE!?

EVERYONE’S SO SHOCKED LOL

vil pls dont overblot again-

Noooo grim’s tuna cans-

WE REALLY LOST TO A LEGIT KIDS SONG.

These children do not have the right to be this cute. I wanna take Timmy, Toby, and Shelpie home.

I swear to god one of these dwarves sounds like Cheka lol Is it Toby?

EPEEELLLL DONT CRRYYYY

KALIMMMM DONT CRRYYYY

KALIM HAVING THE AUDACITY TO SOUNDING LIKE A BIG BROTHER AND THEN CRYING HIS OWN RIGHT AFTER LOLOLOL

I HATE THIS EPISODE YALL MADE MY TWO BOIS CRY IM FIGHTING THIS EPISODE. BURN THIS.

This background music too though im deeeeddd

KALIM IM SO SORRY FOR MAKING A SINFIC ABOUT YOU PLS DONT CRY-

Jamil impressed about Vil being “calm” and Vil just going “h e h. you dont even know.”

....ha...

Monsieur Rook. WHAT did you say.

ROOK VOTED FOR ROYAL SWORD. Are you kidding me. You snek how could you- i loved you

WHAT DID I SAY- Ya’ll night raven fuckers shall not slip by their fingers when voting rook.

Vil is in the brink of passing out aaaaa

I have never heard Ace this pissed before whoa- lol he sounds like Deuce in his delinquent mode

Aw...Rook felt that Neige’s performance carries a stronger bond than theirs :’( it’s hard to put the blame on him when he’s saying all these stuff

It’s just like what they said in the past episodes that it’s really hard voting for your own team when you know the opposing team is better.

Aww...He just wanted Vil to believe in himself more...Rook is such a best man. Im crying-

Oh noooo is Vil gonna cry too nooo- daddy turned to baby really quick SOMEONE GIVE HIM AN EMERGENCY HUG

Well- at least...at least the 100 year record of not being able to win is still going, yeah? Um...bad joke? Sorry, i’ll see myself out-

NEIGE NOT NOW AND YOUR VII-KUN BULLSHIT- we’re having a moment here

Neige is such sweetheart but aaaahh— This makes it worse, we can’t even hate him aaa—

OMG JUST WHEN I THOUGHT THINGS COULDN’T- AAAAA

MONSIEUR ROOK. YOU’RE A FAN OF NEIGE!?

MOTHERFUCKER just got exposed by Neige himself lol

Going to Neige’s shake hand events, sending him letters, buying all his merch and shie- HE’S A FULL BLOWN NEIGE STAN

WTF YOU SNEK GET OUT OF THIS SCHOOL-

OOOOHHH THAT FUCKING ALBUM- HIS “LIFE’S WORK” or whatever bullshit IS FULL OF NEIGE

...actually- my japanese is lacking- im not sure lol what is a ブロマイド??? Lol I feel like a clown.

Rook is sweating profusely LOL

...what do you have to say for yourself, monsieur rook.

Wait- huh is that-

IS HE GONNA CRY-

WHY IS EVERYONE CRYING!??!?!?!

HE’S SILENTLY CRYING AS HE INTRODUCED HIMSELF TO NEIGE WHAT. THE. FUCK IS THIS EPISODE.

Neige fanclub??? Eternal Snow??? What kind of creepy-ass- OH, HE EVEN HAS A MEMBERSHIP NUMBER TOO-

Props to Neige with his :) expression unfaltering.

I’m- I’m speechless.

Vil is just looking down at Rook in disappointment like- “you’re more pathetic than I am”

Queen just went “I think you need this handkerchief more than I do now” THAT’S RIGHT. REPENT MOTHERFUCKER.

Rook crying is cursed.

But damn, I’m kinda liking this new relationship this bitchy relationship they have

Neige just dragged everyone’s ass back on stage and his snow white energy just said “LETS ALL BE FRIENDS AND SING”

NEIGE IS FUCKING GREAT- HE REALLY DID GOT THESE BITCHES TO SING HEIGH HO LOL

ACE’S RELUCTANT SINGING AND DEUCE LOOKING LIKE HE’S HAVING FUN

KALIM IS SUCH A MOOD, SINGING EVEN WITHOUT KNOWING THE LYRICS AND JAMIL JUST HAVING THAT “i want to die” ENERGY

AIGHT. ROOK IS HAVING WAY TOO MUCH FUN AND EPEL IS TRYING HIS BEST. HE’S SO CUTE-

OMG NEIGE AND VIL HAVING SUCH GOOD HARMONY—

YAHOO Y A H O O TANOSHIINDA~~ 

YA’LL SURE ABOUT GIVING ME THIS BLESSED MOMENT??

What a somewhat happy ending, even though Rook just backstabbed us I’m crying Beauté 100 points!!!

LOL Vil realizing he’s having fun singing with Neige- “SOMEONE JUST END ME RIGHT NOW-“ The desperation in his voice-

I love how Neige’s yahoo yahoo is messing with everyone’s head, even Vil wants to pass out lol

haha Crowley is so depressed lol

WHA- WHO-

HEADMASTER OF ROYAL SWORD!?

He looks like your typical grandpa- and his outfit looks like that one mickey mouse wizard outfit but blue—

Old man just went “we won lol” just to piss Crowley off I like this guy’s energy already-

Crowley being most likely as old as this guy—

ooohh this man just sensed something in this stage- Leona did too, didn’t he???

* Damn. Crowley talking so fast sounds like he’s making a load of bullshit lol

Anyway, I’m just glad that it’s not mickey mouse who’s the headmaster— I would’ve lost my shit.

We’re back in our dorms and I forgot that the squad doesn’t live with us anymore. It’s suddenly so lonely now...

Grim is getting the yahoo yahoo ptsd too lol it’s too goddamn catchy

oooohh shiet- mickey is calling us again

YES we finally got a good picture of this motherfucker

It seems like nothing is disrupting our communication this time, so MC thought to call Grim but—

Grim is not here.

Uuhhh...Grim? Where you’ve gone??? We’re getting flashbacks of the first parts of the game.

We went out to find Grim and HE’S CHOMPING ON ANOTHER BLACK STONE ON THE STAGE-

GRIM SPIT THAT OUT YOU LOOK TERRIFYING

AAAAAHH GRIM HAS GONE FERAL— He’s attacking US

Is this because we didn’t win his tuna canss nooo

NoOO SWEET BABY COME BACK.

Legit I’m sad, please baby don’t overblot like this...

He learned a new move though- SCRATCH

Ooh— We’re seeing some Ignihyde scenes here~

P U H I H I

Idia getting a lot of emails from bigshot companies whoa—

THAT OLYMPUS—?! EXCUSE ME??? Ortho what- Are we finally getting that Hercules episode—

Damn getting a hot chance in olympus only to put them down the recycling bin oof— Idia why edit : Yume was informed that olympus is kind of a company that sponsored VDC sorry she was mind-fucked at this moment and the ability to understand proper Japanese just went whoosh lol Thanks to @starshiningsirius for pointing it out for Yume~ ♥︎ HONESTLY YUME’S JUST GONNA WAIT FOR ACTUAL PROFESSIONAL TRANSLATORS AT THIS POINT LOL Don’t trust me for important situation too much lol

Aaaahh...We’re getting this shut-in out of his room in the next episode, are we?

And that concludes the whole Pomefiore Episode! JESUS CHRIST 75 CHAPTERS ALL IN ALL!? How long is the Ignihyde chapter going to be, huh!?

This was a really, really fun episode lol I’d consider this a fan service episode actually cause of all the things we get to experience— The singing, dancing, and the new songs, THE DRAMA. (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

But then, the plot thickens, no? What’s going to happen to Grim? In the Ignihyde episode? And those reoccurring memories of us? And our relationship with Tsunotarou lol ALSO WE NEVER REALLY DID FIND OUT WHAT ROOK’S UNIQUE MAGIC IS. DISNEY EXPLAIN—

Thanks for reading this shitpost of Yume losing her shiet lol See you all in the Ignihyde Episode~ ❤

[sortagaysortahigh]

Handprints | Rafe Cameron

LISTEN YALL THIS SHIT CORNY AS HELL AND I DONT CARE. I live for cheezy ass soulmate au’s and this is exactly what that is. I’m also still in my rafe wormhole, dont worry it’s also a drew starkey wormhole. I love him. Also if this makes no sense i do apologize, I haven't slept in like 36 hours, honestly Im bouta pop a benadryl and hope i fall asleep.

Warnings: Cussing, spelling and grammar errors, underage drinking, like two seconds of the reader being sad, corny soulmate au I love it here

Word count: 5.5k

Fem!Reader x Rafe Cameron

Everyone has a mark, the first place your soulmate touches you, symbolized by their hand print somewhere on your body. On your eighteenth birthday you’ll be able to meet your soulmate, some people meet their soulmates the day of, or years later, it just depends. When they finally touch you the mark is supposed to disappear, but you end up with their initials behind your right ear. In theory it’s supposed to be romantic, you get to know the first place someone touches you, the first touch symbolizing a lifetime together, then you’re marked with their initials and get to spend an eternity loving one another.

But you hated it. Whoever your soulmate was had huge hands, so huge in fact that the mark just happened to sit on the right side of your face covering it and it managed to touch your earlobe. As a kid you were bullied because of it, people saying that your soulmate was going to smack you on your eighteenth birthday. Then there were the comments saying it looked like an ugly burn mark, it was darker than your skin-and it stood out. 

Everyone’s mark stood out, they were supposed to be noticeable, so you’d know exactly where they would touch you. Some people had marks on their hands, or shoulders, or waists, or thighs, but you-you had it on your face. You always thought that the Gods saw you as some kind of joke because you’d never met anyone with a mark as big as yours on your face. Sure you’d seen people with hand prints similar on their jawlines, or cheeks, but not half of their face. 

Every morning your routine was the same. Wake up, regret waking up, use the bathroom, brush your teeth, wash your face, stare at your face for five minutes, mentally cuss your soulmate out, throw on some mascara-and do your brows, do your hair, then find an outfit. You stopped trying to cover the mark your freshman year at the kook academy, considering people from middle school would still bring it up, and then somehow find a way to shame you for covering it up. 

You stopped caring about their opinions when you realized there was nothing else you could do, if you didn’t cover it-people had a problem, if you covered it-they had a different problem. So one day you said ‘fuck it’ and decided to leave the hand print alone. Sometimes you’d wish it was somewhere absurd like your ass or your foot, but at this point in your life-you didn’t care. 

Besides it’s the day before your eighteenth birthday, maybe you’d be lucky enough to meet your soulmate and let them touch your face so you didn’t have to deal with the hand print anymore. Either way you had to get up and go to an event for your fathers business, if you were late he would probably compare you to other girls he’d recognized from the area. “I bet Carrera’s daughter is never late to things” or “Sarah’s usually very on time to things, you should take a few notes from her”

Honestly you barely knew Kiara, the two of you attended the kook academy around the same time, but this past spring you graduated and she was only a sophomore. The only underclassmen that you knew were your best friends' friends and his younger sister. You weren’t super social in school-considering you hated most of the people at the kook academy-but when your best friend attended the two of you would always be together, however he was a year older than you so when he graduated it just left you-well and the other three.

You sighed knowing your mother wanted you to dress up today, your family and the Camerons had a big charity fundraiser today so you had to attend. Of course your father and Ward had been friends since high school, they attended the same university, and were business partners. So of course it only made sense for them to live in the same neighborhood, two houses apart. Sometimes your father's friendship got on your nerves, but you were thankful for it because without that friendship you would’ve never met Rafe Cameron.

The two of you had been friends since diapers. You shared so many memories with him, he was your best friend and you wouldn’t give him up for anything or anyone. The two of you always made jokes about how your soulmates would have to put up with each other because you would all be around each other so often. The two of you were always together, always getting into some type of trouble, hell your first memory had Rafe in it.

Everyone was gathered around the table, singing happy birthday to you. It was your first real birthday party and you were four, you begged for a spider-man theme and your mother agreed after your father kissed her ass for two weeks. The two of them came to the conclusion that you could have a costume party, and a spider-man cake. You were smiling at the spider-man cake while wearing a spidey-suit. Most of the little girls at your party had come in princess costumes. The boys that came all high-fived you that day and made fun of the girls. 

You remembered that you and Rafe were matching, and after they finished singing happy birthday to you, you blew out the candles, and he hugged you telling you that the two of you would be friends forever-which made you cry because you’ve always been emotional. 

He was there for you through everything.

He used to get in fights to defend you, hell he was still getting in fights to defend you throughout high school. He was there during your first period on a field trip in the seventh grade, listening to you panic from inside of the bathroom, rushing to find a female chaperone because he was starting to panic. He was there when you broke your first bone, fist bumping you and telling you that you were a badass. He was there for your first heartbreak, telling you that ‘that douchebag wasn’t even your soulmate, trust me’ and later fighting your ex. Hell when the both of you lost your virginity you sat and talked about it for hours, laughing at how awkward both of you were with your partners. 

Rafe might not have been the most liked guy in the outer banks, but you loved him, you don’t know what you would do without him. He’s been through so much with you, and you want nothing more than to see him happy in life. Sure his dad was a dick sometimes, but he had the right to be, Rafe had reckless tendencies and you tried your best to keep him in check because he needed it. Sometimes he was a ticking time bomb, other times he was a goofball, it was sporadic with him, but you knew he would never hurt you.

You smiled at the thought of your best friend, putting on a fitted red wrap dress, it showed just enough cleavage that it wasn’t too scandalous and hugged your figure nicely. Then you put on your grandmother's dove necklace and slipped into a pair of strappy nude heels. You grabbed the small LV over the shoulder bag that your mother gave to you and made your way down the stairs, knowing that you’d make everyone late if you spent any more time getting ready.

“Glad that you could join us sweetheart, we’re going to be late” you rolled your eyes at your mother's sarcasm-well you waited until she turned around first-and grabbed an apple from the fridge, following your family outside to the car, it might’ve been a ten minute walk, but it was hot outside and you and your mother were not walking. Your father was talking about who was going to be there and you just hummed in response every few words. You were still humming in response during the walk into the Cameron residence, you were still tired from the night before and you wanted to take a nap. 

When Ward walked up to your family you put on the best smile you could, hugging him and standing there-pretending to listen-well until he interrupted your zoning out. “Y/N, why don’t you go find Rafe and Sarah, they’re somewhere around here.” you nodded and excused yourself, you knew exactly where Rafe was-upstairs probably half asleep-so you made it to his room and opened the door, seeing him in bed still, pillow over half of his face, and his exposed chest with the hand print on his waist showing, a sheet thrown over his bottom half-which you knew was bare underneath.

You’d almost seen his entire package on multiple occasions, he slept naked all the time, unless he was sleeping at yours, that’s the only time he slept in his boxers. You walked over, taking the pillow off of his face and hitting him with it. 

“Rafe Cameron if I have to suffer through this event then so do you. Wake your green giant ass up” he groaned, mumbling something about five more minutes and rolled over, making you cover your eyes before he had a slip. It’s happened in the past and it wasn’t exactly something you wanted to see from your best friend. Sure he was hot-but he was Rafe-the kid who used to be scrawny and shorter than you-even though now he stood at six two and decided to ‘hit the gym and get built’-his words not yours.

You walked over to his closet picking out a tan suit for him to wear, then grabbing a pair of brown shoes and a matching belt. Placing the clothes on his desk then grabbing his phone off the nightstand next to the bed, proceeding to throw it at his back. When he winced you knew he was awake. “Good, now brush your teeth and change, I’m not going back there alone, we’re dying of boredom together bitch” 

“Don’t call me a bitch you dickhead” you scoffed at his comment, his tone was playful, so you grabbed his phone off the bed and threw it at him again. “Okay shit I’m sorry ow, stop throwing stuff at me, I’m awake.” You sat on the bed and focused your attention onto your phone, skipping through people's Instagram stories, then pausing on Toppers. “That bitch!” Rafe laughed at your comment, assuming you were talking shit about some girl-not his other best friend. “Topper posted a video of us last night” 

“What?” you sighed and held your phone above your head so he could re-watch the video. “Well shit, I guess now we have to confess our love to each other and get married since apparently we got fake married last night”

Kelce decided he was going to throw a party, it was a spontaneous last minute thing, but he still had a house full of kooks and tourons within the hour of tweeting it out. He’d managed to get someone to bring a keg and several different types of liquor, so everyone that wasn’t drunk would be soon, and those that pregamed-well they’d probably be throwing up in his mom’s plants-as usual.

You and Rafe were playing beer pong against random tourons and kooks, you’d won five games in a row and were announced as the reigning obx beer pong champions by Kelce, which made both of you laugh in your semi-drunken state. 

But of course semi-drunk was never good enough for Rafe, he always had to go above and beyond. Everytime you’d try to argue with him he would cut you off saying ‘ah ah, respect your elders, I know best!’. Which usually led you into shitty situations, like jumping off of the roof into the pool-which is exactly what the both of you were about to do. You looked over at him and furrowed your brows, having second thoughts about it all. 

“Is this a bad idea” he looked at you and smirked “respect your elders, now you either jump or I push you” you scoffed moving away from the edge of the roof, people were cheering you both on and he was looking at you and rolled his eyes. Then he picked you up and jumped. You screamed on the way down and once the two of you surfaced you pushed him away from you and called him a jackass. 

That’s one thing about Rafe that pissed you off, he did a lot of things for attention and to impress people-you hated it. He would get reckless and then you’d have to take care of him, making sure he was okay in the end. When you got out of the pool and stormed back into the house he realized you were pissed, and he was probably going to get a classic ‘you could’ve gotten seriously hurt you big idiot’ lecture from you. 

He found you sitting on the countertop in the kitchen, a solo cup of beer in your hand, ignoring some touron trying to mack on you. “Hey baby, sorry I got lost in the crowd” he wrapped an arm around your waist and gave the touron a dirty look, once he walked away Rafe moved his arm and looked at you, waiting for his lecture. When you made eye contact with him he braced himself.

“Are you fucking dumb? Do you not realize the repercussions of your actions? Rafe I don’t give a shit if you didn’t get hurt this time, you could've gotten seriously hurt, but you never think about that do you? You make me want to punch you in the fucking face sometimes, like seriously Rafe. I really should punch you in the face right now” he laughed at you, he could see the emotion flowing through your eyes, the concern you had for him. He was thankful that he had someone like you in his life, someone who genuinely cared about him, outside of the drinking, partying, and fighting, you’ve always cared about him. Something that he hoped and prayed his soulmate had in common with you-hell most days he’d hope that his soulmate was just like you, having all of your good-and somewhat bad-qualities because you were his version of normal and he needed you in his life. 

“Stop looking at me like a lost puppy before I cry, you know I cry when I’m drunk, Rafe I care too much about you for this shit. I should hit you” he laughed at you then pulled you into a hug. Rubbing circles into your exposed back and kissing the top of your head. 

“So Topper’s firing up a game of kings, you wanna play?” you sighed and nodded, knowing you were about to be shitfaced in an hour.

You were so right, the amount of liquor in your system should’ve given you alcohol poisoning, but partying with kooks for four years in a row did a number on your tolerance-and your liver. You were dancing with Top, grinding into him and giggling every five seconds. For the record he was also shitfaced and would probably remember none of this in the morning.

He stopped you and spun you around “I just got the best idea! You and Rafe should have a wedding! Your birthdays coming up soon, what if you guys aren't soulmates? You gotta marry him now-” you opened your mouth about to argue with him but you were cut off by him grabbing kelce and telling him the idea, making Kelce nod his head rapidly and make an announcement about a wedding happening tonight. 

So somehow you found yourself with a flower crown on, Rafe’s white button up covering your body, and you were holding his hands, looking up at him, giggling while he tried not to laugh. Topper was officiating the wedding and you had a backyard full of people watching. Somehow they found Sarah and she was your maid of honor while Kelce was his best man. The five of you looked ridiculous, you were drunk messes and you knew one of Tops other friends was trying to record but kept laughing. 

“Why are we doing this again?” Rafes harsh whisper sent you into a fit of laughter and you shrugged, having no idea why Topper and Kelce insisted this was a great idea, they were going off on drunk rants and tangents when trying to get people to come and watch it all happen. “I think they think we’re soulmates? I dunno-also your shirt is really comfy” he smiled at you “thanks its cotton”

Toppers loud shush made you both giggle while you looked at him, he started fake officiating the wedding, reading some speech off of his phone and making the both of you repeat him-but in all honesty it was a lot of gibberish and slurred mumbles between laughs. “You may now kiss the bride” You and Rafe stared at each other not knowing what to do, but he shrugged and leaned down, kissing you, making you giggle but you kissed him back. It was short and sweet.

“I should officiate more weddings, I did a kick ass job” Sarah bursted out laughing next to you at Toppers statement and people in the crowd were cheering and laughing at the mess in front of them. 

You were laughing at the videos on his story then stopped when you saw the kiss, you hardly remembered kissing Rafe, you were incredibly shitfaced and you had no idea how you didn’t have a hangover-you were just tired. You bit your lip watching the video again, blushing then laughing at Topper and Sarah. 

Rafe came out of the bathroom and started getting dressed, putting on the suit you picked out and you smirked nodding your head looking at him putting it on. “You’re too happy about this” you shrugged at him “I just think I should be allowed to dress you more often-if it was up to me I’d burn all of those douchey polos you have, especially that stupid one with like pastel rainbow striped, god you look like an asshole in that” he started laughing at you then winced when he realized he had a headache.

You reached into your purse and pulled out a bottle of aspirin, handing him a couple pills and grabbing the water bottle on top of his desk for him “drink up my dearest husband” he sighed, drinking everything while you buttoned his shirt up for him-for most people this moment would’ve seemed really intimate-but for you two it was pretty normal, you’d been doing it for years. Your mother always made jokes about how you and Rafe acted like an old married couple sometimes, you never knew what she meant, but you thought it was ironic since Topper forced the two of you to get fake married. 

“Topper really made us get married” you nodded at Rafes statement “well my dearest wife, I think it’s about time we make it downstairs to our lovely charity ball” you rolled your eyes at his horrible attempt at a british accent, then handed him his brush. “Fix the mess on your head first, and don’t douchebag-slick it down please” he scoffed at you

“There is nothing wrong with the way I slick my hair down” “you’ve been using too much gel since junior year, you look like a douchebag that’s too uptight, it doesn't fit your character you ass-speaking of asses-can you see mine when I spin around fast?” you spun around in front of him and he bursted into laughter making you start laughing “Rafe I’m serious!” he kept laughing at you, putting the brush down on his desk and holding his abdomen. 

“What the hell kind of question? No I can't see your ass, don’t you think you would have felt a breeze” you rolled your eyes at him, going back into his closet and grabbing your favorite cologne of his, walking out and handing it to him while mocking him under your breath. “I can hear you sweetheart” you gave him the middle finger and waited at his door for him to finish putting his shoes on. Once he finished the two of you headed downstairs.

You figured Ward told you to go look for Sarah and Rafe because he knew Rafe wasn’t awake yet, it was the easiest way to go about things without embarrassing his son or himself. When you walked into the backyard you started greeting guests, Rafe right behind you doing the same thing. Then of course Rose stopped you. You and Rafe both had a strong distaste for her, his mother was gone so Ward remarried and ended up with Rose, you were convinced all she cared about was money-well and wheezie. 

“Y/n baby you still have this mark-you poor thing-I thought your birthday already passed?” you rolled your eyes and swatted her hand away from your face, ignoring her gasp. You hated when people tried to touch your face because of the print, especially when they were basically calling it ugly. 

“Her birthdays tomorrow Rose” Rose was still staring at the mark on your face, and at this point it was making you uncomfortable so you walked right past her and made a beeline for your mother. When you made it to the table you let out a sigh of relief, she was sitting next to some of the other wives-the ones you liked-and they were gossiping about the women they didn’t like at the event.

Of course they all stopped to greet you and Rafe, he offered them all his ‘oh-so-charming’ smile and they were swooning over him-hell even your mother was swooning over it, which made you give her a look. “Mommy, Rose tried to touch my face-again.” your mother laughed when you called her ‘mommy’ and she started laughing at your pouting. She loved to tease you, telling you that you always acted like a little kid when it came to your soulmate mark and peoples reactions. You were always telling her when people would try to touch your face. 

“Did you swat her hand away like I told you to” you slapped rafe’s chest with the back of your hand when you heard his laugh. “Yeah, she did this ugly gasp and honestly-I wish I wouldve hi-” Rafe’s hand covered your mouth and he excused the two of you, ignoring your complaints and trying to reach out to your mother who was laughing at you the entire time. “That’s so unfair, you take me away from my mother dearest to make me mix and mingle with old people I don’t like.” 

“Stop complaining, we’re trying to sneak inside again, but as you can see there are people blocking our entrances” you laughed at his stakeout pose. “Sneaking me into your house? Take me on a date first Cameron” he rolled his eyes “I’ve been taking you on dates since I was seven, if I wanna sneak you into my house I will” the seriousness in his tone caught you off guard. 

Truth be told Rafe could remember the events of last night, and he remembered kissing you, part of him thought it was a bad idea, but the other part of him-that part of him knew he had to do it-like Top said-it’s now or never. He had no idea who your soulmate would be, and he’d loved you for a long time, but of course, if it wasn’t him-which it probably wouldn’t be-then he’d be crushed. So he chose to ignore the feelings for most of his life, but the way you were looking at him, with your somewhat crooked smile and the slight twinkle to your eyes, he couldn't resist. 

Now he was thinking about it, he fell asleep thinking about it, and you waking him up didn’t help anything. He was silently praying the minute the clock hit midnight that his feelings would go away-he’s always wanted to see you happy, but knowing that it’s probably going to break his heart first-it hurt him. The only person that knew about his feelings for you was Topper, which made sense that in his drunken state he made Rafe fake-marry you. 

He looked at the watch on his wrist, he had nine hours left, nine hours before your eighteenth birthday and it terrified him. He just wanted to spend the last nine hours experiencing you, before he knew he’d have to permanently repress his feelings. Which was the entire reason he wanted to sneak back into the house, the two of you made a five minute cute appearance, now you should be able to leave. But when his father made him talk to donors he sighed in defeat. Watching you shoot him a wink before being face to face with an old man. 

You were left on your own, so you tried to find Sarah-which was unsuccessful. So you found a seat on the deck, scrolling mindlessly through your phone for an hour, then seeing a notification pop up from Sarah ‘Had to leave the event early, girls night at yours tn?’ you quickly responded with an ‘okay’ and went back to instagram, rewatching Topper’s story at least twenty times. The kiss had your mind racing, the way he kissed you, the way you kissed him back.

Did it mean something? Could it mean something? You were about to be eighteen in eight hours, if he wasn’t your soulmate then it wouldn’t mean shit. But you knew you’d always love Rafe, you needed him just as much as he needed you. The two of you balanced each other out, he was the yin to your yang, the apple to your pie, the patrick to your spongebob, the milo to your otis. What if one day things were going to be different? What if he wouldn’t be able to be all of those things and more? Then what. 

You hated what ifs, you thought they were stupid and pointless, but right now, the what ifs were scaring you. Rafe Cameron was in all of your best memories, what if one day he wouldn’t be, what if one day he’d just be a fading memory? You didn’t realize you were crying until a tear landed on your phone screen. You quickly wiped your tears away, making sure no one noticed you and stood up, going into the house and grabbing some of Sarah’s pomegranate juice from the fridge. You need a non-alcoholic pick me up, and this was it. 

“Noticed you crying out there, are you alright?” you looked up at your mother and shrugged your shoulders. “Not really mom” “it’s Rafe isnt it?” you nodded your head and took a sip of your juice. 

“I’m scared because what if I meet my soulmate and then Rafe’s not in my life anymore, like he’s my best friend, I’d go to war for him, I don’t know what I’d do if Rafe wasn’t there anymore” she laughed at you and smiled.

“I’ve always known you had feelings for the boy, just never acted on them, I love your friendship with him, you both need each other so much. and I’d be an idiot to not notice the way he looks at my little girl-” you cut her off “what?” “-he looks at you like he loves you because he does, one day you’ll hear it from him-but let’s just call it mother's intuition. The Gods would’ve been idiots to not make the two of you soulmates” she grabbed the cup of juice and placed it on the counter then pulled you into a hug. Rubbing circles into your back, letting you silently cry. For once you were genuinely scared of losing Rafe.

Sure sometimes he was an egotistical asshole, and he would be extremely reckless, or he would try to shut you out, then there were the times he’d cuss you out-and you cussed him out in response, but he was your Rafe. You knew there was so much more to him than meets the eye, people constantly judged him because they didn’t understand him-but you did. You’d grown up with the big idiot. Watched him go through puberty-you remembered the first day his voice dropped-you’d been through everything with him, the good times, and the bad. 

She let you cry, you’d been crying for half an hour before your father walked into the kitchen with Ward and Rafe, Rafe immediately leaving his father's side to come to yours, your mother slipped away and you cried with Rafe, gripping the tan blazer and letting your silent cries out. Your parents had all left the room, your mother told them that you two needed a minute.

“What if everything changes” he smiled holding you closer to him. “I’d never let that happen, I don’t care what fate or destiny has to say about the shit.” you scoffed then sniffled, he was such a cocky asshole. But you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

“You promise me that nothings gonna change?” you held your pinky out, finally looking at him, holding eye contact. His small smile reassured you while he linked his pinky with yours. “I promise you nothing-and I mean nothing is going to change, you’ll always be my best friend, regardless of what or who happens” you nodded your head at him, then he pulled you in for another hug. 

“C’mon let’s go have a movie marathon” “can we watch twilight again” “no” “is it because you’re gonna cry at their wedding again?” he shoved you and you rolled your eyes, giggling at him. Once the two of you got into his room you took your heels off, going back into his closet and finding a pair of sweats and a t-shirt, you changed inside the closet and walked out then jumped onto his bed next to him. 

Somehow you suckered him into watching twilight with you, but when you got a call from Sarah saying she’s been at yours for a few hours hanging out with your mom you started panicking, it’d been seven hours, you were supposed to meet her at your house hours ago. “Shit I forgot about Sarah!, shit, can you drive me to my house? You can? Great!” you grabbed his hand and your things and rushed down the stairs, you tiptoed out to his truck since you didn’t have shoes on. 

When you got to your house it was 11:58pm, Rafe gave you a piggyback ride to the front door and you opened it, noticing how dark the house was, he put you down and you placed your things on the table in the foyer, walking back towards the kitchen. When the lights turned on, your friends and family jumped out yelling surprise, making you scream a little bit, Rafe laughing at you and you gave him the middle finger. 

You looked down at your phone, seeing the clock say 12:02am and smiled. Of course your batshit friends and semi-nuts family would plan a surprise party for you at midnight the day of your birthday. Sarah motioned for you to come towards the cake where she was lighting the candles and you laughed, rolling your eyes at her, looking down at the spider-man themed cake.

Then you looked up at your father “Hey, your first real birthday you had a spider-man cake, and this is your first birthday as an adult-so it only made sense” you started laughing at him and he cued the singing, you listened to everyone sing you happy birthday and let you blow out the candles.

You noticed Topper and Kelce holding up two wine bottles and you couldn't stop laughing, of course they would show up with drinks. You looked around the room, seeing everyone talking with one another and laughing, then you noticed Rafe just in the corner staring at you. You furrowed your brows walking over. “What’s wrong”

“Nothing, the big baby’s finally eighteen, I’m kind of emotional.” you rolled your eyes at him and looked down at your phone, seeing the ‘happy birthday’ notifications start to roll in, making you roll your eyes and put the phone in your pocket. When you looked back up at Rafe he was still quiet.

“No seriously Rafe, what's wrong, you’re never quie-” you felt him grab the right side of your face, and pull you in for a kiss, your right hand immediately going to his waist and your left hand on the back of his neck. The kiss was different than any of the other kisses you’ve ever had, it felt like fireworks were erupting on your skin, like you were experiencing heaven on earth. But then the fireworks sensation actually started to burn and you pulled away, your face burning. 

“What the fuck! Rafe what the hell! Why does this shit hurt” you looked around spotting your mother and waved her over” Mommy!” Your mother rushed over towards you, then smiled when she saw it happening, the handprint on your face fading away, watching it disappear. “I told you, a mother’s intuition is never wrong” you were confused when she made you turn your head and took a picture of you, but when she showed it to you-your mouth dropped. The mark was gone, instead small initials were found below your ear “R.C.” 

You looked over to Rafe, he had a huge dopey smile on his face, you immediately lifted his shirt up and looked at his waist, the mark was gone, then you grabbed his face turning his head and your initials sat there. 

“I never realized how big your fucking hands are” he laughed at you and gave you the same dopey smile.

“I told you nothings gonna change baby”

[matthewtkachuk]

how to mend a broken heart: interlude - rafe cameron

Breaking Rafe Cameron’s bones didn’t work, but your plan to break his heart did. You falling for him too and having your heart shatter as collateral was an unexpected side effect. Ever the schemer, JJ’s come up with a new five step plan to mend what was broken.

co-authored with my love, freya @rekrappeter​

pairing: Rafe Cameron x reader, unrequited!JJ x reader

warnings: angst, starting a relationship under false pretences, drinking and drug use

word count: 800

a/n: here it is the beginning of part two! freya and i are so excited to share the second half of the story with yall, it’s going to be an even crazier ride. please please please leave us feedback, freya and i read every comment and cry, love you guys so much!! if you want to get a feel for how the second half of the series will go, check out the playlist on the series masterlist 

JJ never thought he’d ever feel this awful in his life. He had hurt, and probably lost, the number one person in his life. You had been his constant, his day one. The two of you had literally known each other since you were in diapers, your moms had been best friends until his own had left him and his father, at least. You had been the one to help him through his mom leaving, you were the one who patched him up after fights with his father, and you were the one who always offered him a place to stay in your house despite knowing your father didn’t much care for him. You had loved him your entire lives, and he had not only taken that for granted but used that fact against you when you were at your lowest. In his desperation to keep you in his life, his deluded brain thought confessing his long-buried feelings and making a move was the right way to go. In reality, it had only pushed you further away. His stomach was tied up in knots at the thought of having been the one to cause you to cry.

The thing about JJ though, is that not only is he abominably stubborn, he is also eternally optimistic and his brain runs a mile per minute. Past the point of wallowing, now, JJ is plotting.

An idea came to light in his mind, a grin settled across his face and a theoretical light bulb appearing over his head, making Pope look worried, “We’re going to need a bigger chalkboard.” 

“W-What?” Pope stuttered, fear washing over him at the crazy look on the blonde’s face. That very same look has gotten Pope into trouble on more than one occasion, it screams that JJ has come up with some hair-brained scheme and he was about to pull Pope right into it alongside him.

“The sequel: How to mend a broken heart,” JJ smirked, throwing his arms wide open to punctuate his point. Pope’s eyes bugged right out of his head, of all the strange things JJ has come up with in the many years of their friendship, this might be the idea to end all ideas.

“Do you not think you’ve done enough, JJ?” Pope stared wide eyed at his friend, thinking of his other friend that is currently heartbroken due to the consequences of JJ’s last brilliant plan. 

JJ shrugged his shoulders, his fingers fleeting through his blonde hair, “But I can fix it.”

“Fix what? Y/n’s heart or Rafe’s heart because the only way you’re going to fix y/n’s is if you convince Rafe to forgive her for your stupid idea.” Pope says, and JJ pointedly looks away, jaw tense. He still hates Rafe Cameron, maybe even hates him more knowing that you’ve fallen for him. Thinking about Rafe Cameron kissing you, hands touching your body makes him sick. But, despite his shitty attitude and being the literal catalyst of your heartbreak, he loves you and he does want you to be happy. 

“I don’t have to convince Rafe of anything, all we have to do is help y/n convince him.” JJ retorted, “it’s a solid plan!”

“Really?” Pope gave him a look that said he didn’t believe him one bit, “And what about your feelings for her?”

“That door has closed,” JJ replied quickly, attempting to not convey any of the various emotions brewing in his mind, “I just want her to be happy” 

Pope looks at his best friend, wondering how they all got here. If everyone had just listened to him, he thinks, things wouldn’t be this way. They’d all be together, laughing around a fire, drinking shitty beer without a care in the world. But that line of thinking was selfish, he also thought. He knew how badly you wanted to love and be loved in return, and despite how it ended, the stupid bet had brought Rafe into your life. Pope sighed deeply, recognizing that Rafe was the one who made you happy and he would let himself be roped into JJ’s stupid plan if it meant he could help bring you that happiness.

“Not that I’m saying yes,” Pope started, as the grin spread across JJ’s face again, knowing he had won, “but, this time you’re going to butt out of y/n’s love life, alright? And no jumping down her throat if this thing does pan out. And, you have to prepare for it to work out, Rafe might be around more than we’d like.”

“It’ll be worth it, for y/n,” JJ’s grin falters a little, but only Pope who had known him for a decade would have noticed, “let’s mend some broken hearts.”

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rodeo rafe babies who said they were interested:

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diverdcwn everything taglist:

@velyssaraptor​ @danicarosaline​ @copper-boom​ @x-lulu​ @prejudic3​ @downbytheouterbanks​ @ilovejjmaybank​ @bricksatanakinswindow​ @jellyfishbeansontoast​ @sunwardsss @rudyypankow​ @im-a-stranger-thing​ @alexa-playafricabytoto​ @hoodpankow​ @sortagaysortahigh​ @socialwriter​ @euphoricheyward​ @anxietyandtacos​ @diverrdown​ @stargazingstarkey​ @rafej-cambanks​ @stfukie​​