#every time i listen to it i feel like there’s another verse but it never comes

[the-butternut-tree]

there’s something very symbolic about how short butchered tongue is and how it sounds like it should keep going but it just stops.

[redstarwriting]

pda/general affection hcs | i.

ft. hobie brown & miles morales

request?: yes

request: “Hiiii!!! I am absolutely IN LOVE with ur the clash series and I can't wait to see how it progresses!!! Could u do some pda/general affection hcs for the spider verse characters? I would love to see Miles and Hobie hcs but it's rlly up to whatever characters u would wanna write for. Endless thanks!!”

warnings:  language, cuteness, mentions of dying, mentions of injuries, mentions of throwing up, mentions of being overwhelmed

a/n: i love hcs lol this was actually how i first starting writing and it’s so fun bc i can be my sarcastic self without having to change any of it teehee, thank you for requesting anon! thinking of doing this for other characters to, what does everyone think?

i’ve made a pt ii. to this with gwen and pavitr if you wanna check it out!

───────────────────────────────────

hobie brown | spider-punk

pda

- he’s kind of a middle ground - not crazy about it - not against it at all - he just - hold onto your hats for this one - ✨he does what he wants✨ - ofc it also depends who’s company you’re in - if y’all are with Miles, Gwen, and Pavitr, he’s super comfortable and a part - of his body will always be touching yours - but it’s not like he’s goin out of his way to be like LOOK AT MY PARTNER - HOWEVER - if he’s ANYWHERE where there are authority figures? - *cough* miguel *cough* - he will just start to make out with you - LMAO - “Hobie, can you stop kissing your partner and listen to me.”   “No.”   “You’re aware of how rude you’re being?”   “Good.” - if you don’t like it ofc he won’t but he WILL be touchier with you in those moments - because it pisses people off - and he loves that - also if he felt threatened? - he’d probably get a little touchier than usual - but honestly he almost never feels threatened so who knows if you’d ever experience that - and if he did ever feel threatened he would feel better knowing that you always wear one of his studded bracelets - ppl will ask where you got it and you’ll be all - “Oh! My boyfriend Hobie!” - he loves seeing the hope drain out of anyone’s eyes when he appears behind you after that statement, he finds it so amusing every time - he’s only obsessed with a few things - like there is something he will ALWAYS do - he is OBSESSED and i mean OBSESSSSSEEDDD with having his hand in your back pocket - at all times - only if it isn’t around your shoulders (another obsession of his) - like y’all are going to one of his shows? - you enter with his hand in your back pocket - after gets offstage? - hand in back pocket - walking home? - hand in back pocket - sometimes y’all will walk instead of him picking you up and webbing back home JUST BECAUSE he wants to put his hand in your back pocket - he also LOVES using you as an armrest - if you’re short, he places his arm on your head like an armrest - if you’re average height, he’s still using your head as an armrest - if you’re tall or as tall as him he will climb a wall to use your head as an armrest - it gets you flustered and he thinks it’s adorable! - and eye contact? - he will keep his eyes trained on you at all times - he’s always looking at you - or else he’s looking for you - only looks away SOMETIMES when he’s talking to other people - “Hobie, I’m over here.”   “Yeah, I know.”   “So stop looking at them, I’m the one talking to you.”   “Yeah, but you ain’t the fittest person in the room so piss off, eh?” - that being said - there is something he just doesn’t do in public - he doesn’t hold hands - i do feel like he would hold pinkies with you upon request - but holding hands just isn’t his thing - in public👀

general affection

- THIS MAN HAS THE WORLD FOOLED - he acts all nonchalant about it - acts like he only does pda to go against societal rules - which he does BUT ALSO - he is so touchy - he isn’t clingy by any regard - but he LOVES being affectionate - just like the smallest things - every morning when y’all wake up in the same bed together and he wakes up before you (which is a lot bc he doesn’t sleep well) he will place a feather-light kiss somewhere on your face so he doesn’t wake you up - but like clockwork - he will do it - and after he will just lay there and hold you for a bit - even when during the night the two of you separate from each other he will always reach out for you during those times - and he will maneuver you back into his arms so he can just lay there with you for a bit - every time you ask him why he just tells you you make him a “bloody softie” - which yeah you do - but also - he gets scared when he comes home, you won’t be there - with his job that isn’t really a job and all, he gets so nervous that you’ll just be fed up with it and leave - or worse, you’ll be used as bait for him - bait which he would immediately take, of course - he even does it because he thinks about the possibility of him not coming home one day - and he wants you to feel like you were loved if that happens - he also just loves the little smile that comes to your face every morning - when you realize he’s done it again - and that is just ONE THING - he hates getting injured, but would lie if he said he hated getting patched up by you - when you’re cleaning his wounds with alcohol the two of you hold hands - he’ll squeeze when it stings and you’ll squeeze when you feel bad - so you’re kinda squeezing his hand the whole time - but you know how i said he doesn’t hold hands in public? - at home it’s a different story - watching tv? - hands are held - looking at the stars from the top of a building? - hands are held - throwing up after drinking too much? - hands are held - so is hair - and he rubs your back - you rub his - he adores back scratches (not when he’s throwing up just in general LMAO) - one thing he didn’t realize he loved so much until it happened was when he was sitting and playing his guitar on y’alls bed - just mindlessly finger picking some melodies - and you came up and sat behind him and put your head on his shoulder and wrapped your arms around his waist and kissed his cheek and just - stayed there - it made him melt - he loves it so much - he especially loves it when you hum along - even if you can’t hold a tune - it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard he doesn’t care - you can expect him to be all over you the minute he gets back from being Spider-Punk - especially when he has a bad day - i could probably give more examples but this is already kinda long lmao oops

overall

- he LOVES affection - public and private - if he loves you, he’s gonna show it - he’s gonna scream it, literally and figuratively - everyone will know y’all are together - which he loves - but that’s not why he does it - he just loves you - and doesn’t care what other ppl think 🤭

miles morales | spider-man

pda

- omg this lil man is so awkward - i’m far older than him and he makes me think of how nervous and awkward i was at his age when it came to any type of romance - so i can see him being SO unintentionally awkward in public - he tries so hard to be cool - but omg - the tiniest thing will go wrong and he’ll go from 😏 to 😟 - everything is the end of the world until you assure him it isn’t - like the time he saw you outside around Brooklyn Visions Academy and thought it’d be so cute to go up behind you and cover your eyes and say “guess who :)” - except it wasn’t you - you were across the street and watched it all go down - he literally made eye contact with you the minute he tried to be cute - the HORROR on his face - he was immediately apologizing to the random person he just did that to - in the moment you were so confused - but when you and him were in his dorm and he was flailing his arms around -and yelling in lowercase explaining it? - oh my god - hilarious - he was all pouty when you started laughing so you had to attack his face with little kisses to make him cheer up - one would have done the trick but he was grateful for all of the ones you gave him regardless - or the time he went to wrap his arm around your waist during lunch because he wanted to be all cute in school and you turned around as soon as he put his arm out and tried to walk and his sturdiness and strength made you literally drop your lunch tray and the food went everywhere - and there you were again in his dorm as he was flailing his arms around and yelling in lowercase apologizing because you just got new shoes and he ruined it and— - shut him up with a kiss, would you? - a display of public affection that always happens though is you’re always in his jacket - to the point where he has two of the same jacket now so you guys can be twinning :,) - “Look, babe! Same jacket!”   “Oh my god wait! We’re gonna be so cute!”   “I know, right? Pretty smart and cute of me, huh?”   “Very smart and cute of you, Miles.” - he also loves to have his hand on top of yours whenever he can - he’ll do it in class - if y’all go out to eat - if he’s sketching and you’re next to him - and holding hands in public is a favorite of his - it’s very tiny things that he does because every time he tries something big something goes wrong - like opening a door for you and motioning you to go in before him - and always being ready to steady you if you would trip (which happens more than he thought it would) - and always fixing your necklace that he bought you for your birthday (with the help of Rio) when the little clasp comes down in the front - he’s constantly staring at you with a dopey grin on his face - literally will get called out in class because he’s just 👁👄👁 - and then he gets all flustered  - but the smile you get on your face letting him know you like him that much will relax him - will go from “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to draw attention to you!” to “yeah, you like that? imma do it more then.” - he’ll also pretend to drum on you with his pencils when you’re near him - especially if he has his headphones in - he likes to play this game where you guess which one of his songs he’s jamming out to - sometimes he says you got it right when you get it wrong just to see you get excited - and he doesn’t necessarily mean for this to be a public display of affection, - but his constant drawing of you is frequently watched by other classmates - the only person who has successfully seen his bold moves of affection is Ganke, and he pretends to gag every time lol

general affection

- he’s such an affectionate boy 🥹 - like i said, Ganke is the only one who successfully sees his physical affection plots work - he’s much smoother when people aren’t around - and yes, he has shown you the shoulder touch - you did it to him once and he short-circuited - i’m so serious he accidentally shocked you - but then he hugged and kissed you for like 40 minutes afterward cause he felt bad - so it wasn’t too bad of an experience - but when it comes to physical affection in private, he’s worlds better at it - any time he plays video games, whether that be with you or Ganke, he has his leg over top of yours - He loves watching movies with you where you lay your head on his lap and he just mindlessly draws little shapes on your shoulder - he also loves having you laying on top of him while y’all cuddle - it makes him feel safe (and he gets to steal soooo many kisses from you) - you’re kinda like his very own weighted blanket but not even because his spider strength makes you feel like a feather - but it’s also an easy way for him to keep a hold of you and feel like he’s protecting you - he also loves to take you web swinging - holding you super close and taking you to a tall building away from anyone who can see y’all - he loves that - sometimes he’ll have like a whole picnic type date set up and y’all will just have a cute lil date on the top of the one world trade center - he also loves having you over to his place - his parents love you - and you love them - they make him keep his door cracked when y’all are in there together but it’s mainly because they love to peek in and see their son so in love - Jefferson took like 74 pictures the first time he saw y’all napping together - And Rio took like 52 pictures when she caught the two of you on the roof of the building and he was playing you a playlist he made for you - he does that a lot but that was the first time Rio saw it - she was ecstatic lol - he occasionally will just poke you for no reason - and by occasionally i mean he does it constantly - “Miles? Why did you do that?”   “Do what?”   “I literally saw you poke me.”   “No, I didn’t”   “…”   “…”   “I did, you’re just so cute, I don’t know.” - he also loves drawing on your hand - the back of your hand has constant Miles doodles - sometimes it’s stuff like the two of your initals in a heart - sometimes it’s Spider-Man - sometimes it’s just whatever was on his mind - but you love your constant Miles hand drawings - and he feels like it’s some sort of way for other people to know you’re his - but when he does it it’s so cute - cause he’s so gentle - and no one is watching - but you’re sitting there and just smiling as he creates a work of art on your hand and the playlist he made full of songs that remind him of how you made him feel the first time he saw you is softly playing in the background - he calls them temporary tattoos and one day you’re going to actually get one of the doodles tattooed on you somewhere - he’ll probably have a heart attack from how much he loves it but hey that’s fine he’ll recover - speaking of he loves to draw with you - he doesn’t care about your skill level, he just loves to be creative with you - he also is very much all about making sure you’re eating - getting enough sleep - prioritizing yourself above everything else - and if anything is ever bothering you - he is There - he will always be there and it’s very comforting - he just wants you to be happy all the time and does his best to do so - and you feel the same - so any time the responsibility of Spider-Man is too much for him - or when his parents get on him because he’s hiding half of who he is - you’re there for him - often times after he comes home from a long day of Spider-Manning he’s the one who is being held, but you’re fine with that - cause he can be vulnerable with you and he needs it

overall

- Miles is getting the hang of being in a relationship - he really does love pda but is so bad at it lmao - when he gets better beware - you will be a melting mess in public all the time - but for right now it’s just behind the scenes where he’s able to show how he really feels - give him all the hugs he needs ‘em

[luveline]

𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 | 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐨’𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚

miguel can’t control himself when you get hurt in the field —a ficlet featuring an irritated (lovesick) miguel and a flirty, distracted spider-girl. pre across the spider-verse but contains spoilers. requested he re, fem!reader, 2.5k

tw. fighting, injury, blood

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Miguel watches the screen in front of him unhappily. 

"Spider-Girl," he says. Two people answer him. He sighs. "Y/N," he amends, "you're being reckless." 

The little droid camera that follows you around circles your head as you swing from one place to another. "I'm being good," you deny. 

Miguel would never tell you this, but he loves how you speak. Sure, almost every word you say annoys him, but the cadence of your voice is melodic and addictive at once. And Miguel knows you're nice to everyone, but it's him alone that has you speaking so softly. 

You do it to torture him, he's sure. 

"You're doing well, but you'd be better if you didn't free fall for so long. Mechanical failure can happen at any minute," Miguel says. 

"Then one of the others will catch me." 

"And if there's no team member close by? I'm supposed to come and scrape you off of the sidewalk?" 

"Miguel," you say gently. He can tell what mood you're in today. "They have people for that." 

"Could you just do as I asked you to?" 

"Ah, but you haven't asked me anything." 

"Please," he says, "focus on the task at hand, and use your webs cautiously." 

You make a chirping sound that feels more laughter than affirmation, but you do as he requests, reducing the length of time between each web shot. You're in New York, Earth-1844, attempting to send home an unhappy Doc Ock variant whose mechanical arms are immensely technologically advanced, even when compared to Nueva York's futurism.

Miguel had sent you along with a rather large team, one. because a big team was necessary for the task, two. because you'd asked and he has trouble saying no to you, and three. because if you'd spent another hour in his office today he actually might have given into temptation, which wouldn't be good for anybody.

Miguel is used to doing what needs to be done rather than what he'd like, these days. So while he wants to indulge you and your fanciful suggestions —I'm not heavy, handsome, please, you won't even notice I'm in your lap, your thighs are so wide— he can't. He has things to do. Things that cannot endure distraction. 

"Woo!" you cheer through laughter, letting your shoes skim the floor in an especially dangerous manoeuvre. The adrenaline turns you giddy. "Holy crap." 

Oh, right, that's why he resists temptation —he hates you. (He doesn't hate you.) He hates you and your disregard for your own safety, he hates your rejection of his authority, and he hates the stupid sweet sound you make when you're excited. 

"Do you listen to me and then forget what I've said, or do you not understand the English language?" he asks. 

You land on a rooftop overlooking the centre of Future Doc Ock's destruction. "Well, I've been learning Spanish. We could always try that," you suggest. 

"Why have you been learning Spanish?" he asks. 

"Coquetear contigo," you say, your pronunciation all over the place. To flirt with you. 

"Qué maravilla," he mutters. 

"I don't know that one, handsome, so I'm going to assume it was a love confession or something similar." You sound so overly fond he has to tense his jaw. "Gwen, where are you?" 

"I'm over here?" 

Gwen is wrapped up tightly in a metal tentacle. It shakes her around fanatically. Miguel swears and zooms in on her location, watching in apprehension as she attempts to free herself while the arm creaks, tightening, tightening. 

"Woah," you say, taking a running jump off of the rooftop. "Can you believe it? I'm not the first one who needs rescuing." 

Hobie Brown reaches Gwen before you can, and he makes an impressive rescue. You divert your path, shooting a web at the glass dome covering Future Doc Ock's head. Miguel crosses his arms across his chest. Wannabe Mysterio loser, he thinks, and then, when you've smashed a hole into the dome with a generously momentous kick, Nice. 

He doesn't suppose Doc Ock was expecting a kick to the jaw today. 

You hiss as you propel yourself away from him, another web shot at a nearby lamppost. It does something funny to his chest when he hears you whine in pain, but he's too distracted to ask what's wrong —he scours your droid's view for an answer, finds it red and saturating the fabric of your suit. 

"Why are you bleeding, Spider-Girl?" he asks, gaze drawn to the main screen where Dock Ock shouts belligerent threats at an approaching Spider-Man. 

"No biggie," you say, hissing again, "I think I cut my leg on the glass. I need a better suit." 

"Can you walk?" 

"I'm fine," you say with a sniffle. From the amount of blood, the cut is deep. "Is it me, or is it dusty in here?" 

It definitely hurts if it's making you cry, though maybe you're unprepared. This was a bad idea, you aren't as seasoned as the others, and he knows you don't know what you're doing yet. You need more time, more practice. You've hurt yourself in the field on your very first mission, and you don't have the pain threshold or the super-healing necessary to cope.

It's his fault for letting you go. 

"Prepare for extraction," he says.

"No! No way, are you kidding? I'm fine, I– I can do this."

"Y/N," he warns. 

You fling yourself from the lamppost with impressive grace considering your injury and join the fight once again. Miguel can't keep an eye on you like he wants to, as the alarm that indicates an anomaly begins to sound. He's forced to rush together a second team while the elite strike force are preoccupied, yanking members of Spider-Society from their goings abouts, Lyla in his ear recommending effective combinations and fighting styles. From that point on, he has to supervise two different missions, his head pounding with effort. 

His hands itch. He should be out there. Miguel is the cream of the crop and he isn't shy to admit that. He's a good fighter, but he can't be everywhere at once, and most of the anomalies they face require multiple sets of hands to fix. So he forces himself to stay put and guide the teams through each fight, sick to his stomach with every bloody footprint you leave behind. 

He's following Hobie Brown and offering rejected instruction when he sees you go down. He toggles your voice channel and catches the end of a high-pitched, "Oof," the air-knocked from your lungs forcibly as you hit the ground. The tentacle that propelled you veers up for a finishing blow, and three different webs catch it and pull it backward. 

It's a blur. One minute Miguel's in the control room at Spider-Society headquarters, the next he's breathing in the smoggy air of New York, Earth-1844, concrete and asphalt torn up under his hands. Lyla speaks in his ear and he's deaf to her, his focus pointed with only one thing in mind. 

The restraint it takes not to wipe Doc Ock from the face of the dimension is incalculable. Miguel can't quite believe his own moderation as he orchestrates the return of the anomaly, your body on the ground in the corner of his eye. 

The second the situation is under control, he runs to you. His gloves hit the ground with a thud by your hip, as do his knees. Spider-Man, a Peter Parker from Earth-751263, has already set nanobots over your prone figure, tiny spider-like creatures that leave webbing bandages in their wake, closing the sluggish wound on your calf. But nanotech won't fix a broken spine, not in the field. Miguel needs a stretcher. He needs to get you home. 

"Miguel," you say, drawing his gaze from your slow-rising chest, "I can't breathe.

He slides his thumb as gently as he can into the seam of your mask and eases it off. "You're winded." 

You cough. The sound is disturbingly wet, but your lips remain unsullied. Miguel can't look at you in this much pain, and he won't: he stands, and he takes control. 

—

You're not in nearly as much pain as you should be, because Doctor Spider-Man gave you the good stuff. "Your healing isn't nearly as expedited as most of us," he'd said. 

"Is this medical discrimination?" you'd asked, faking a serious concern. "Do I need to talk to Spider-Lawyer?" 

You found it funny. He maybe didn't, but he gave you an extra dose and told you to rest up before leaving. Resting at the Society medbay isn't easy because Spider People are constantly filtering in and out of the ward for check-ups, medication, and corrections. 

It's also not easy because most Spider People are incredibly lonely in their home dimensions, and incredibly friendly here. When Miguel finally comes to visit you, you have a Spider-Girl from a few dimensions over who has the same biological mother as you but a different father sitting to your left —she's trippy and adorable, if you do say so yourself— two Peter Parkers to your right, and a melting pot of currency lost in the white linen sheets over your legs.  

They get one good look at Miguel and put down their playing cards. 

The Peter Parkers slink off together promising to come and see you again sometime, and your variant stops just shy of Miguel's position to look him up and down affectionately. 

"Go away," he says. 

She beams at him. "Okay." 

"You can't help it, can you?" he asks after she's gone, picking a rogue playing card up from the end of your bed. He twiddles it between his index and middle finger, the card shushing with each turn.

You sit up in bed and try to straighten out the sheets, hoping to entice him. You don't bother answering his question. It barely sounded like one. 

"I'm hurt, you know?" you ask. 

"I know. I told you to retreat." 

"No, I'm hurt it took you so long to visit me," you say. You're putting on airs. Truthfully, you genuinely are a little hurt, but your voice is soft and dreamy as always. "I thought we were friends." 

"Ah, because you need more of those." 

You sink down into your pillows, your knees hiked. "I really can't help it if people like me. And you'd know." 

Miguel surprises you by sitting down. He faces away from you, his thigh just shy of your feet below the sheets, and it's only then you realise he's tense. He's in civvies for a change, a t-shirt stretched tight across his broad shoulders and chest and regular black sweatpants. He's wearing converse. 

You look at him through a squint. "Did you hit your head, too?" 

"I'm off-duty."

"I just never pictured you in sneakers." 

"How do you picture me?" he asks, neck craned to look at you, his chin touching his shoulder. He has dark circles under his eyes and his brows are ruffled on one side. 

You let your knees fall to one side and pull your legs to your chest, hoping to entice him closer. "You're not sleeping well?" 

Miguel doesn't answer your inquiry. In fact, he falls silent. His eyes are on your hands where they're bunched at your chest, his dark flush of lashes twitching as his gaze tracks along the column of your throat, your jaw, and finally, your face. 

"If you were anyone else," he says eventually, "you'd be benched." 

"I'm not benched?" you ask. 

"You disobeyed a direct order," he says, "and your actions affected the people around you. Someone else could've been hurt protecting you. You have to listen to what I'm telling you to do, or this is never going to work." 

You look at the hospital bed railing rather than face his disappointment. 

"But it's my fault." 

"What?" you ask, startled. 

"It's my fault you got hurt. I knew you couldn't handle it, and I let you go anyway. I'm… I'm weak." 

"What are you talking about?" you ask. "Weak? You're the strongest person here, with or without Rapture." 

He flinches at the drug's name.

You lay there, paralysed by your own mistake, your big mouth ruining everything for the thousandth time. If there's one thing you know about Miguel, it's that you never mention his weaknesses. His drug. His last attempt at a full life. You might be light-hearted, a free spirit, but you're far from stupid usually. Your emotional intelligence must've got lost somewhere on Earth-1844. 

"Sorry," you murmur, looking at him from under your lashes. "I didn't mean…" 

Slowly, so slowly, he puts his hand on your leg. It doesn't hurt, you've been medicated and stitched and his touch is far from cruel, but you're so startled that your breath gets caught in your throat. Miguel doesn't touch you unless he's giving you a vague reprimand, moving your hand from a button you shouldn't touch or a door you're not allowed to open. 

"I let you go on that mission, knowing you weren't ready, because you asked me to let you. I put selfish motivations over your safety. It won't happen again." 

You're not as brave as you think you are. You try to hold his hand but it looks so big, and you've never had him this close to you of his own accord. You're a moment away from nervous goosebumps. 

He looks up at your touch, your pinky finger wrapped over his, smaller and shorter but with the same pattern of calluses, skin abraded by tight gloves and rough surfaces. 

"Selfish motivations," you repeat in a murmur. 

"I don't– like saying no. To you." He couldn't sound more unhappy to admit it. 

"You say no to me all the time," you say. You don't mean to, but suddenly you're folding your fingers over his, forcing him to hold your hand. He doesn't stop you. He doesn't let go. "Like, ten times a day." 

"It's difficult." Your complaint is a blessing for him —the atmosphere around you shifts to something less vulnerable, and his permanently chagrined personality rears its head once again. He raises his eyebrows. "You make my life extremely difficult," he says flatly. 

"You make my life difficult, too," you say. 

You can't help but give him your fondest smile, your lashes kissing in the corners of your eyes.  

He visibly softens. His thumb rubs the back of your hand, just once. 

"Fantastic," he says, looking firmly away from you. "Great." 

"Isn't it?" you ask happily. 

He squeezes your fingers gently. It's almost imperceptible. "Yeah, it is," he says. 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed! also, im sorry if you already speak spanish i realised after that that detail was subjective to the reader, sorry!

[vivian-pascal]

Like a Prayer

dbf!joel x f!reader

summary: Since you last saw Joel, he's been on your mind nonstop. You just can't get him out of your head. You miss him, and sure enough he misses you. So, you both plan something and decide to play a little game. (part two to Summer Love)

warnings: age gap, teasing, f!masturbating, dancing, fluff, piv (wrap it up) hand job, lil bit of sub!joel, joel cums fast, fingering, breast play, joel's dirty mouth, bit of feelings, breeding thoughts, lap grinding, description of what reader wears, reader is on birth control, aftercare

"Ugh!" You slam your head against your bedroom door for the five thousandth time today. You just can't take it anymore. He's everywhere. The last time you saw him, you barely got to say good bye to him and you haven't seen him since.

Yes, he texts you, but that only makes it worse. He sends you the most teasing and crude messages that just make you yearn for him harder. It's been horrible, let alone for Joel.

He dreams about you almost every night. The sweet moans you let out for him, the touch of your soft fingertips on his rough body, the way you moved and whispered sighs into his ear.

He is so uncontrollably in love with you. Love? Love is something he'd never be in again. Especially with his best buds daughter, who, not to mention, is at least a good twenty years younger than him.

Your blasting 'As long as you love me' by the backstreet boys on loop and your dad keeps coming upstairs to check on you and see if you're mentally okay.

He cracks open the door and sees you with your forehead resting on the wall and your arms hanging down. "You alright honey?"

You turn your head and nod. You look back down at the ground and sigh loudly. "That doesn't sound like you're okay, sweetie." He walks over to you and turns the volume down on your radio.

You stand up and lift your head from the wall. "What are you doing?" He looks at you with confusion and a sarcastic look on his face. "Turning the volume..down?"

"No, dad, turn it back up." You cross your arms and give him a death stare. He only looks back at you and crosses his arms too. If you want to play, he'll play too. "No."

"And why not?" You quirk your eyebrow waiting for his 'good' reason on why he should turn your music down.

"Because, honey, i've been hearing that song on blast and loop, for the past, let me see." He lifts his arm up and checks his watch. "Two hours, and I can probably sing every single verse to that song. So, I think you should take a break from the music, or play a different tune."

You look at him with shock. How dare he? If he doesn't like The Backstreet Boys or that song, then he can go away. You were doing just fine with that song on blast and loop for the past two hours and he just ruined it.

"Or, I keep the song on, and keep it on blast for another two hours." You give him a sweet smile as you turn the volume back up, grab his arm and lead him to the door, pushing him out and shutting the door in his face.

You smile at your good work and go back to the spot on your wall. Listening to the lyrics and singing them in your head. Dreaming of Joel and only wishing he were here with you right now.

Just as your about to bang your head on the wall for another couple hours, your phone pings and you instantly go over and grab it. It's Joel.

Hey sugar

hi joel

Whatcha up too?

oh, you know, the usual

You set your phone down and plump onto your bed. You haven't seen Joel in so long its making you go insane. When you hear the ping from your phone, you read the message and your face goes red.

Hm, let me think, the usual, as in your knuckles deep in that sweet, creamy pussy thinking about me huh? Oh darlin'. Can't wait to just devour you whole once again, you taste so sweet f'me sugar, man you make me hard.

You slowly put your phone down, grab a pillow, and scream as loud as you possibly can. He can't make this anymore worse for you can he.

You stare at your phone as you rest your head on the pillow. You look at the message and read it over and over again. Your hand slowly tracing circles around your torso and then into the waistband of your underwear.

You circle your clit softly and sigh at the feeling. You imagine Joel as you soak in the feeling of pleasure.

You think back to when he had you pinned against the bathroom door while he shoved his face into your pussy. The feeling of his nose, his mouth, the way his tongue moved so perfectly. The scratch of his beard on your thighs. His hair, tugging it and hearing him groan into your core.

You arch your back as you begin to rub your clit faster. Sticking a finger into your pussy as you whimper at the feeling.

You just wish it were him doing this. His big, calloused hands would run along your beautiful frame, his fingers would go deep into your core and fill you up just right. He'd praise you like no other. Filling your ears with pure filth.

Your mouth goes agape as you come. Imagining Joel on top of you, resting his sweet little head on your shoulder as he pounded you to death.

You close your eyes and take a deep breath. You remove your hand from your panties and grab your phone.

"Sweetie?" Your dad calls from downstairs. "Yeah dad?" You open the texts from Joel and begin to type one up. "I'm going out with Todd and Jim, I'll be gone for about four hours, we're goin to a bar alright?" You smile cheekishly as you send your message. "Yeah, bye dad have fun! Love you!" You hear the door shut and you smile as fireworks go off in your head.

dads going out, come over now please

Desperate I see, I'm on my way babygirl.

You roll your eyes as you read his message. You get up and look out your window to make sure your dad is really gone. You then go out into your closet and pick your outfit.

You go with a skimpy, white dress that cuts off at the knees and a cute white bow in your hair. You smile as you twirl in the mirror.

You hear a knock on the door and immediately rush downstairs. You quickly make sure your dress looks good and fix your hair as you open the door. And there he is, in all his glory, Joel miller.

You gasp when you see him. It's been so long, too long. He smirks down at you. He's wearing his same old pair of jeans and a flannel.

"Well hello darlin'. Been quite some time." He grins as he sees your flustered state. You look him in the eyes with desperation and grab him by the collar. Pulling him into your face and smashing your lips together.

He stumbles as he walks inside with you and shuts the door. You let go of his lips and release his collar as you start to unbutton it. "Woah, woah, I didn't know you were this desperate hon, I would've come over a whole lot earlier."

You death stare him as you get on your knees and run a hand over his bulge. He groans and closes his eyes at the feeling. You throw off his flannel and unzip his jeans. He takes off his shoes and turns around to put them in the corner, when he looks back, his mouth drops.

Your there, in nothing but the sweet, little bow in your hair and your panties. His jaw tightens as he walks towards you and grabs your hips.

"Well don't you just look so yummy." You giggle as you smirks down at you. You walk over to the couch and grab his hand. He sits down with his legs wide as you sit on top of him.

You run your hands through his hair and mold your lips together. He groans into the kiss as his hands flow down to your waist. You begin to grind against his covered crotch. His hands help you with the motion and he whimpers in your mouth.

You can feel him getting harder and harder by the minute. Your grinding motions quicken as his hands pull you into him faster. "Oh yeah darlin'. Just like that." He rests his head against the back of the pillow as you run your nails along his chest.

He shivers as you get to the waistband of his boxers. Skimming your nails along the soft curls. You carry your hand downward and over his bulge.

He flinches as he watches your movements. You run your nails along his covered length. Feeling his cock through his boxers, running your nails along the veins and tip.

He lifts his hips as a plea to remove his boxers. You only giggle as you keep teasing him. "D-Darlin'" He throws his head back as you grab his shaft through his pants. He whimpers at the feeling and lifts his hips once more.

You give him mercy as you release his cock from his boxers. He groans loudly as he feels your soft hand on his dick. He throws his arms over his eyes as he feels you run your nails along his soft skin.

Precum dribbles from the tip as you circle it with your nail. You admire the way it twitches and leaks for you. You admire how Joel is so desperately trying not to grab you and rail you too death, and how he's just barely holding on because of you.

He moans loudly as you lean down and lick a stripe up his cock. "I can't-" You giggle softly. "Can't what Joel?" You position your covered pussy over his cock and begin to rub against him. His mouth opens as he sees your soaked cunt over his dick.

His thighs begin to tremble as you quicken your pace. His cock twitches and cries under your core. He throws his head back once more and groans. "I'm cumming." He speaks threw gritted teeth. "What Joel?" When you look down at your panties, you soon get your answer. "Oh."

You sit back on his thighs as you watch his cock soften. His face is a flush red as his arms cover his eyes. "Joel did you just die or something."

He lifts his arms from his face and looks down at you. His eyes soften when he sees how absolutely stunning you look right now. He sits up and brings his hand to your face and rubs circles on your cheek with his thumb.

"Probably darlin'." You roll your eyes as he smirks and grabs your hand. He stands up from the couch and picks you up. You wrap your legs around his torso as he carries you upstairs and into your room. "Wait Joel, no-" But before you can say anything else, he's in your room.

"Yes sweetheart?" You grumble as you pick stuff off your floor and throw them into your closet. "Are you seriously cleaning up before we fuck?" He stands there, in your doorway, butt as naked with his arms crossed and a look on his face that says 'you better get your ass on the bed before I make you'

You roll your eyes and throw the stuff on the floor once more. He grins as you crawl onto your bed and lie on your back. He removes your panties as he crawls up your body and kisses your nose. "Baby girl, I don't care if your room is messy."

You giggle as he kisses your lips. You wrap your arms around his neck and through his hair. He deepens the kiss and groans into your mouth. He runs his hand down your body and between your legs.

He slowly circles your clit and you arch you back from the pleasure. You moan into his mouth as he runs a finger through your slit. You kiss his lips harder as he rubs your clit faster.

"Joel." You moan when he inserts a finger into your weeping hole. "I'm here baby, right here." He kisses your neck as his fingers work their magic.

You arch your back as you moan loudly. He feels your juices as you come and groans. "There ya go honey." He brings his hand up from your core and licks it clean. You stare at him with lust and tug his hair as you kiss him once more.

"Ready f'me?" You nod as he lines himself up. That's another thing you love about Joel. He's sweet and will always make sure your okay with something.

You gasp as you feel his cock seethe into you. He rocks his hips forward and you close your eyes.

He kisses along your neck and up to your lips. He groans against your mouth as he thrusts his hips faster. You arch your back as his pelvis knocks into your clit with each thrust.

He runs his hands along your body and rubs your breasts. He rolls your nipple between his fingers and latches his mouth onto your neck as you squeeze his cock.

He kisses and sucks that spot as you arch your back further off the bed. He grunts as he thrusts up and into you faster.

He can tell your close as your moans get louder and your breathing quickens. "Cmon baby, come with me."

You grab his face and collide your lips together as you come. Moaning into his mouth as you feel his thrusts get sloppier as he comes. Filling your pussy with his dripping seed.

His hips come to a stop as he rests his head against your forehead. You open your eyes and see that he's already looking at you.

You stare at his face for a bit. Looking at how beautiful he is. He looks into your eyes with love. He wants to hold you, wants to stay with you forever, he wants to love you. But he can't.

He kisses you once more before getting up and heading to the bathroom, leaving you all alone, for now.

He returns back with his shirt and a soft cloth, this feels all too familiar. Like he'll just clean you up and leave you once more.

You smile as he sits in front of you. You sit up and he taps your knee to spread your legs. Your raise as eyebrow as you do what your told.

His eyes droop as he sees the sight in front of him. Your gorgeous pussy leaking his cum. God, he wonders what you'd look like pregnant. With his baby, that he put into you. No, he shouldn't think like that, you're his best friends daughter after all.

He shakes the thoughts from his head and puts the soft rag against your core. Wiping away his hard work. He throws the rag down and into your hamper as he lifts your arm and puts his shirt on you.

You lift the fabric to your nose and sniff in. You open your eyes and look at him. Oops, you forgot he was here.

He smiles softly down at you and gets up. You follow him as he heads downstairs. He picks up his clothes and puts on his boxers. You don't want him to leave you just yet because you know that right after his shoes are on, he's out the door. So, you come up with an idea.

He pulls his jeans up and then he hears music. He turns around and sees you smiling at him with your finger in your mouth. You walk over to him.

You wrap your arms around his naked shoulders. He chuckles as you begin to sway your hips. "And what's all this darlin'?" You giggle as he steps side to side with you. "Just a little dancing." He smiles sweetly at you.

Like a Prayer by Madonna plays in the background as you both giggle and dance together. He grabs your arm and twirls you around. His hands on your hips as you sway your hips to the beat and he pulls a John Travolta move and you laugh and giggle at him.

You stare up at him as the beat begins to come to an end. You just stare into each others eyes and you want to say it so badly. Want to claw at his chest and make a hole in his heart for you. You want to scream to the whole world that you are so deeply in love with him. Joel Miller.

He stares into your soft eyes. He looks into each one. He would love to just take you back to his house and stay with you forever. He wants to hold you and kiss you and love you till the day you die. But you both know you can't and never will.

The music comes to an end and he stands with you in your empty living room, with no shirt on and his hands on your waist. He leans down and slowly kisses your lips with deep passion and love.

He's never kissed you with such tenderness. When his lips release from yours, you look up at him with tears in your eyes. He smiles down at you and brings his hands to your face. Just say it, just say it, please just say it.

He boops your nose with his finger and goes to grab his shirt but realizes you have it on.

You clear your throat and walk over to he door. He's soon behind you and tugs at the flannel your wearing. "It's alright sugar, you keep it, it's hot out anyways." He smirks at you as you shyly smile up at him.

He walks out the door and waves goodbye. "Bye Joel." You say with sadness as you close the door. You walk back up to your bedroom and shut the door, plunging your face into your pillow and crying your eyes out. You are so so so deeply in love with him and you don't know what to do anymore.

part i part ii part iii

tags!!

@guelyury @livingonthehems @ursagittariusgirlfriend @iamsherloocked @heartpascalispunk

@pinkcrystal44 @amyispxnk @simplewanderer @tupelomiss @heartramen

@kotourasan123 @mermaidgirl30 @brittmb115 @littlevenicebitch69 @sinful-mind-joyful-thoughts

@morallyinept @magpiepills @javierpenaispunk @rav3n-pascal22 @yorksgirl

@itsokbbygrl @mountainsandmayhem

[besosquecreanadiccion]

Buddie fic recs:

I've been wanting to do my own list of my favorite fics for a while now so here it goes (in no particular order):

- my words are paper tigers by @hattalove (this ones my favorite of them and i'd say a little underrated maybe?) TIMELOOP TIMELOOP TIMELOOP - buck breaks up with eddie, the universe doesnt agree - ITS PERFECT I'VE READ IT FOR THE FIRST TIME SO LONG AGO AND ITS STILL ONE OF MY FAVORITES EVER.

- Actually, truly by MilenaDaniels Helena (and Ramon) tries to find a way back into Eddie's life and doesn't know what to make of finding Buck around every corner she turns. (Or: "Mom, listen.")

- burn the straw house down by rarakiplin - what to even say i think everyone has read this one already but just in case TIMELOOP TIMELOOP TIMELOOP

- Happy Little Accidents by @like-the-rest-of-la - one of the first au i ever read for buddie and i was so ENCHANTED what to even say, buck owns a plant nursery. Its just so soft and so so so beautiful.

- said i couldn't stay, but it's different now by @hattalove - another fave of them. Many weddings and buddie in the middle of it all.

- Close My Eyes and Stumble (Right Into Your Love) by HSMLusitania - i think everyone and their mother has read this one aswell but just in case EDDIE DISPATCHER.

- Burn a bridge, learn how to swim by Watermelonshots - this is a series and jesus christ it literally starts with a buddie drunk make out session so-

- Sit with me in the dark by @kitkatpancakestack - buck loses his vision- !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Soft and kind and yeah beautiful and buck glasses kink anyone?.

- Lifelines by @hetrez . This fic is literally a lifeline - buck and eddie meet during the tsunami and talk about being in the closet. I have no words for how much this fic meabs to me. FLAWLESS.

- about the present by @runawaymarbles - this is a series now and god this was so so fucking special and unique - the first part eddie in the aftermath of being in a timeloop of the shooting. The second one is buck handling it on his own way. PERFECTION. Still thinking about it.

- a good day to be by @hetrez Eddie is a dance instructor, buck needs dance clases for madneys wedding. As flawless as the other one. Eddie Diaz needs a hug yeah.

- we'll be forever, you'll see by rarakiplin - Eddie Diaz finds a cat and heals and heals. And is so loved. I think i cried the first time i finished this one.

- still by @gayhoediaz - once again i think everyone knows this one but just in case, eddie steps on a detonator. ANGSTS SO MUCH ANGSTS AND THAT ENDING YEAH.

- but i can see all along, love (it was you all the way down) by @captain-hen - eddie confesses his feelings, buck rejects him, TIMELOOP TIMELOOP TIMELOOP

- authentication by @vgreysoncellars - i think i described this one as a never ending extention of 7x06 like nights abd just pride and pride and liberation. Eddie picks guys in bars for buck to make out with...

- oh, come when you're called by @lesbianrobin CHRIS 💘 no other words needed i think

- i'm a cliché (who cares) by @cranberrymoons UFF THIS ONE MAKES ME SO EMOTIONAL - eddie realizes stuff and buck is there every step of the way.

- bark like you want it by @colonoscopys - SOULMATES AU so so funny and wholesome.

- the love triptych by @cranberrymoons - this ones just so freaking special to me. Helena trying and trying and trying cause she loves her son. And buddie together through it all.

- so much left in store by @lesbianrobin - UNI AU UNI AU UNI AU !!!!!!! AND VERY IMPORTANT BABY CHRIS💘

- hang me up on your bedroom wall by @eddiegettingshot WELL buck just wants (more) but only if eddie gets him pregnant about it... (infidelity fic)

- close ain't close enough (til we cross the line) by @cranberrymoons buddie sexting buddie sexting buddie sexting and being so so freaking insane and not normal about it. (Infidelity fic)

- throw a bone, i’m finally home by @shitouttabuck - i think everyone knows the like a dog verse by now (come on lol) but yeah i'm very very obsessed especially with the second part of it.

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

Sorry, I just got this image of Steve with a cheesy grin and loving the running joke about him being a parental figure with Eddie.

After Vecna, the first joke gives him a mental image of his future in the RV, and it's Eddie right there beside him. He immediately knows that he wants Eddie to be the father of his children. He just glows when the kids joke about it, and so they do it even more. Of course, it made Eddie annoyed because he's a little slow and still thinks Steve is straight, that he had zero chance with him.

Of course, by the time that Christmas rolls around, they still haven't revealed their feelings. There's a party at Steve's house, and Eddie decides to dress up as Santa as a surprise. He strolled into the living room, shaking his belly.

"Ho, ho, ho!" Eddie bellowed. "Merry Christmas! Hope all you boys and girls have been completely bad this year!"

"Eddie," Steve said with a fond grin. "Where the hell did you find an all black Santa suit?"

"I have my ways," Eddie said coyly. "And you should know that it's not Santa Claus. It's Satan Claws."

He cackled, revealing fake claws, before running off to join the others. Steve watched him, his cheeks red. Robin looked at him in disbelief.

"Unbelievable, I can't believe you're in love with this man," Robin said. "At least my love isn't crazy like him."

She had spoken too soon because a moment later, Vickie entered the house in an all black Elf costume, fangs dripping with fake blood.

"He asked me to be his elf!" Vickie exclaimed as she greeted Robin with a kiss. "It sounded like so much fun!"

"You were saying?" Steve asked as Vickie ran off.

"Well, at least I told her how I felt," Robin said. "Chicken shit."

Satan Claws were a big hit with the kids as well as his Elf. And when the party started to slow down a little, it gave Max an opportunity to talk with Eddie.

"Can I tell Satan Claws what I want for Christmas?" Max asked.

"Sure thing," Eddie said with a grin.

"You know my biggest wish isn't that I could walk again. . .no, I accepted that. What I wish for is my two dads to get their heads out of their asses and tell each other that their madly in love with each other," Max replied.

"Well, it's a huge risk for one of your dads," Eddie chuckled nervously.

"Everything in life is a risk. Getting up out of bed in the morning is a risk," Max said. "You have to decide if Steve is worth it or not."

Eddie shrieked when he felt someone grab him and move him into the doorway of the living room. Suddenly, he was standing in front of Steve, who was looking above his head. Eddie followed his line of sight and saw a mistletoe hanging above their heads.

"Look, Steve - ," Eddie started to say.

Steve grinned and pulled him in by his fake beard, kissing him. Eddie froze for a moment before deepening the kiss. He enjoyed the way Steve giggled into his mouth every time the beard tickled his chin. They weren't even bothered when the kids started to sing, "I saw Daddy kissing Satan Claws." It was all very bad. They broke apart to breathe, laughing with their heads pressed together. Steve touched the pillow under Eddie's coat.

"I work fast," Steve smirked, and Eddie giggled.

"And that boys and girls," Robin said with her finger in the air as though she were a stuffy professor. "Is why you should never kiss a metalhead. They're super, duper fertile."

"Ah," the kids said unison, nodding solemnly.

Eddie grabbed the pillow out from under his coat and threw it at her.

"Fuck off, Robin," Eddie laughed.

"I can't believe you threw your baby," Robin scoffed. "You're a terrible father."

"Don't listen to her, you're a great dad," Steve laughed.

"Aw, thanks, baby," Eddie said.

They kissed again with Robin groaning in the background and the kids starting in on another verse of the song they wrote. It was a good Christmas all around, and Steve looked forward to more to come with Eddie.

[sinofwriting]

ours - Daniel Ricciardo (listen, please verse)

Words: 5,479 Summary: Daniel and Sweets first time together. Warnings/Notes: Smut, oral sex (female receiving), penetrative sex, dirty talk, Daniel’s really filthy mouth and thoughts, Daniel being a freak, barebacking, creampie(?), slight angst towards the end but ends in fluff, and once again Daniel's filthy mouth and thoughts. (Also the first time I’ve written full on smut in so long and it’s been this lengthy (no pun intended). Really proud of it though and hope you all enjoy.) (part of the listen, please verse but can be read separately)

Masterlist | Support Me! | listen, please verse

He sucks in a harsh breath, trying to breath again at the sight in front of him. It was fucking beautiful, gorgeous and before he can stop himself he opens his big mouth.

“You’ve got the prettiest cunt I’ve ever seen.” Her thighs clench together, “Daniel.” She whines and he drags his eyes away and up her body. Taking in her heaving chest, bottom lip caught between her teeth and wide eyes. His own eyes however immediately fall back to in between her thighs and he can feel his dick throb.

She really did have the prettiest cunt he’d ever seen.

It was all pretty colors, a little slick clinging to her. She wasn’t completely hairless either, something that made him swallow hard. The space where her thighs and pelvis met was free of hair, along with a good majority of her pubic bone. But where she did have hair, it was trimmed. Clearly very carefully groomed and it was all in the places that he knew from a previous ex girlfriend needed a little hair to help protect everything. Though the sight of her like this had never gotten him so excited.

Daniel presses closer, face in between her thighs and he flicks his eyes up, looking at hers. “Can I?” She quickly nods, lip still caught between her teeth.

With her permission, he presses closer. Face just barely an inch away from where he wants to bury himself when he takes a deep breath through his nose and immediately fucking groans. His dick throbs again at the mouth watering scent of her.

“You’re fucking perfect, sweets. Haven’t even gotten my mouth on you yet and fuck,” he cuts himself off with another groan as the image of his mouth on her enters his mind. He was fucking thirty-two yet he felt like a teenager. About to bust just from the thought of touching a girl.

Her thighs try to press together and he grips them tighter. He’d happily let her suffocate him some other time, but not right now. Not for the first time.

“Can I taste you? Get you off with my mouth before I stretch you with my fingers?” “Yes,” she gasps, hips bucking a little. “Please, Daniel. Please.”

He wants to grin at the sound of her begging, at how eager she is. But he can’t not when he’s the same way.

He wants to dive straight in, bury himself in between her thighs and make her cum on his tongue until she’s yanking his curls so hard they're nearly torn out as she tries to get him to stop. Wants to feel her push him away and then closer, pain and pleasure mixing together so much that her body doesn’t know what it needs. He just wants.

Ducking his head, he presses a kiss to her left inner thigh before turning to do the same to the right. He then presses a kiss to her clit, shuddering at the whine that leaves her at the contact. Moving his head down a little, he pokes his tongue out tasting the small amount of slick clinging to her folds and immediately groans at the taste.

He can’t narrow down everything she tastes like, but he can taste a bit of sweat and blood, which makes him take another deep inhale, it also reminds him of some of the plain yogurt he gets every time he’s in monaco. It’s intoxicating and he moves so his left arm is pining her hips to the bed while his right hand moves so it’s fingers are exposing more of her. Spreading her open so he can taste everything she has to give.

Daniel isn’t sure how long he spends between her legs. Going between licking her open, spit and slick making her deliciously wet, to pressing his tongue to her clit, making shapes, spelling out letters and numbers till he finds what makes her legs shake and his name come out as a gasp. He tries not to let it get to him that it’s the number three that makes her gasp and try to buck her hips upwards, wanting more.

He tries, but when he does it again and she whines, he can’t help but groan, rocking his own hips into the bed before really burying his face in her. Nose bumping her clit as his tongue presses inside her.

“Daniel!” She clenches and he flicks his tongue upwards again, rocking his hips when he’s rewarded with his name as a near shout spilling from her lips again.

Pulling back, he rubs her clit with his thumb. “You gonna cum for me, sweets?” She nods, “yes, please.” He runs his pinky gently over her thigh, soothing her. “Gonna cum all over my tongue, let me taste you?” He asks as if he hasn’t spent however long doing exactly that. “Yes.” “Good girl.” And before she can react to the name, he’s back between her thighs, keeping his thumb rubbing circles on her clit even though it’s awkward and overkill with how his nose bumps into the small bud. But it earns him more slick flowing out of her and onto his tongue, which he laps up. Pressing his tongue back inside of her, he thrusts it once, then twice before feeling her body tense up.

He quickly rubs harsher circles on her clit, being rewarded with her hips trying to push up, thighs attempting to come together and her moans and groans before she finally spills over his tongue with a near scream of his name as she tugs at his curls.

He groans at the wave of cum that floods over his tongue as he pulls it out of her. He laps over her entrance trying to get every drop until she’s pushing his head away.

Lifting his head, Daniel smiles at the sight of her. Her eyes are closed, mouth open a little as she pants. Chest moving up and down rapidly. One of her arms still extended downwards from when she had her fingers twisted in his hair, the other laying flat against the bed.

The sight makes him throb a little in his joggers and he can’t resist rocking down one more time against the bed, before he pushes himself up. He quickly moves so he’s laying right beside her, wanting to reach out and gently touch her arm but doesn’t know how sensitive she is.

“That was…” she trails off, finally opening her eyes and turning her head to look at him. “So good.” “Yeah?’ He grins, hand twitching, wanting to touch her, but he redirects it to his shirt which he draws up to wipe at his face. Getting rid of any slick on his face that hasn’t yet dried. She nods, letting out a breathless sort of laugh, eyes falling to his exposed chest before they move back up when his shirt drops. “Yeah.”

Reaching up, her hands rests on the back of his neck as she presses for him to lean down, pressing their lips together as soon as he’s in reach.

She’s never tasted herself before, never done anything sexual with someone else except give a few previous boyfriends handjobs, but she doesn’t mind the taste of herself. It’s not like anything she’s ever really tasted before and she can feel blood rush to her cheeks at the thought of kissing Daniel after he’s cummed in her mouth. Wonders if he’d even want to kiss after she’s given him a blowjob. Her mind then conjures the image of him in between her legs, but this time inside of her and she can feel herself clench around nothing.

“I want more.” She murmurs, when they both pull back, foreheads pressed together, breathing in each other's air. His eyes widened slightly, “you sure? Your thighs have barely stopped shaking.” “I’m sure.” She takes a breath, “I want you in me.”

She doesn’t expect the way his eyes slam shut and the groan of her name, but it makes her confident. And she pulls him until he’s on top of her, hovering, with his arms on either side of her head, bracing his weight.

“Are you sure?” He asks again, eyes open and looking into hers. “We haven’t done anything like this before. And I don’t mind waiting for us to have sex for the first time. It’d be worth the wait.” Something in her stomach flutters at his words, at how sweet he is. “I know, but I want this.” She takes a breath. “I want you, Daniel.” He leans down, sharing a sweet kiss with her. “Okay. But I want to apologize in advance for how short this might be. I’ve been hard as a rock since we we’re on the couch.” She can’t help but laugh and he grins at the sound.

He liked being playful in bed. Liked being able to laugh during and before sex. Because sometimes sex was stupid and things happened that if you didn’t laugh about it then, it would just be awkward later.

It had taken him a while to know that pausing to laugh during sex or just laughing mid thrust was okay, didn’t mean that it wasn’t good or that the night was over. He was glad that despite how much younger and maybe inexperienced she was, that she was okay with laughing in bed.

“I know we’re both clean.” They had exchanged results just a month ago, when tension had started to really build between them. “But I still need to grab a condom.” She frowns at the idea of him getting off the bed to go over to where his bag is. Where she knows a strip of condoms is. It was barely a few feet away, but it seemed too far. “What if we went without?” His heart skips a beat, before coming back twice as fast. “You want to go bare?” “I just,” she pauses. “We’re both clean, I’m on birth control, and I can always doordash some plan b.” “I’ve, uh. I’ve never gone bare.” Hadn’t really thought about it either, other than when he was younger and it seemed like a fucking hardship to walk three feet to get a condom. But even then the thought had been fleeting, just in the moment. But the thought of it now? Of nothing separating them? Of getting to sink into her sweet, hot cunt with no condom on? It made him throb and swallow hard around the sudden lump in his throat. “It could be a first for both of us.” Her gentle voice saying those words, made him squeeze his eyes shut, hand suddenly disappearing between them to grab at the base of his cock. “Shit, sweetheart.” He hisses.

“You like that idea?” Her voice is slightly lower. “Being the first person to cum inside me?” He squeezes a little harder, “Keep talking and I’m going to bust as soon as I get inside you.” The sound of her giggling makes him open his eyes and he can’t help but smile at her. Smile at how she’s smiling at him. “That’s okay.” She mumbles, looping both her arms around his neck, dragging him a bit closer. “You can always make it up to me later.” He stares at her in disbelief, because she wasn’t lying, her eyes shining with honesty. He dips his head down, kissing her deeply. Relishing in the way she moans into it and her nails lightly drag at the skin on the nape of his neck.

“No, this is our first time. I want it to be good for you too.” “It would be Daniel. It’s you. You could do anything and it would be a good first time.” Her belief in him and her ever shining honesty makes him kiss her again. “No, sweets.” He tells her when he pulls away. “I want you cumming around my cock before I finish. For me, to make it good for me.” “Whatever you want.” “Exactly.” He says a serious expression on his face before he breaks into a laugh, happy to hear her giggle along with him.

Her giggle turns to a gasp when his fingers that had been previously wrapped around the base of his cock swipe through her folds.

“Do you have any lube? You’re wet, sweets, but I want to make sure.” She nods, stretching out to reach her left nightstand and opening the drawer and taking out a small bottle of lube. “You’ll have to get undressed first.” She tells him when he tries to reach for the bottle, but she keeps it away from him. “Oh, I see. You just want me naked.” She can’t help but laugh, nodding. “Daniel, you didn’t think that I was with you for anything other than your body, did you?” His mouth falls open a bit at her cheek as he sits back on his haunches, a hand coming up over his heart. “Wow, sweets. That is just cruel. I mean, really. I give you an earth shattering orgasm.” She laughs a little harder at that and he can’t help but grin for a second. “And this is how you treat me.” “Well, I don’t know about earth shattering.” She teases, but before he can say anything she’s quick to say. “But it was without a doubt the best orgasm I’ve ever had.”

“You’re a fucking menace, sweets.” He breathes after a moment, releasing the base of his cock once again. “And you’re still not naked.” The words and filled with want they are, make him flush.

Taking off his shirt, he can’t help but preen at how her eyes settle on his exposed abdomen. It’s awkward taking off his joggers and boxers while still being on the bed, all too aware of her eyes on him, but he manages without falling off or hitting himself or her. Pushing the clothes off the bed, he notices where her eyes are glued and can’t help but smirk, chest puffing out a little at her wide eyed expression and slight open mouth.

He knows he’s big, but not so much that it's ever hurt anyone. He’s just over eight inches hard and is thick enough that he fits comfortably in his hand, thumb only going over his fingers a bit when he holds himself.

Before he can say anything, tease her for staring, she’s reaching out for him with her hand not holding the lube and he goes. Settling between her legs in a different way than earlier. He kisses her next, soft and gentle, reassuring and all consuming.

“You still want to do this?” He murmurs when they break apart, eyes heavy and filled with lust. “Yes.” The answer comes out a little breathless and so do the words that follow. “I want you, Danny.”

The next sound that fills the room is the snick of the lube opening, as Daniel puts some on his right pointer and middle finger, carefully rubbing them together to warm it before slipping his hand between their bodies and then her thighs.

Her thighs twitch a little at the first touch to her folds, before she spreads her thighs a little further apart. Moving his fingers a little further down, he feels her clench around nothing when he presses his finger against her hole. Not pushing in, just resting.

Leaning down he presses their lips together and when she opens her mouth a little to let his tongue slide against hers, he presses his finger inside. She’s warm and wet and tight. So fucking tight despite him eating her out not even ten minutes ago and the thought of her wrapped around his cock makes him groan into the kiss, pulling back so he can look down where he’s fingering her.

It’s beautiful watching his finger move in and out, curling it upwards slightly before pressing in another. Her thighs twitch at the second finger and his eyes flicker back up to her face. There’s no pain or discomfort, not even a hint that the stretch is too much, but the way her hands are curled up in the sheets like she doesn’t know if she can touch makes him frown. Wondering what exactly the guy or guys before him have done to her in bed that now that he’s fingering her, she thinks she can’t touch him.

“Baby,” the word falls out before he can think, making him blink because that’s never been a pet name he’s used.

He likes sweetheart, darling, sometimes honey, and with her he likes calling her sweets, my girl. But baby is a new one to roll off his tongue. He shakes the thought from his head, if he wanted to, he could think about it later, not now.

He spreads his fingers, scissoring them as he gets her ready for a third finger. “Touch me.” “I,” she starts, but he curls his fingers upwards and she loses herself to the pleasure with a moan. “Touch me, sweets. I want you to touch me.”

Daniel watches as her hands clench around the sheets before they release the fabric. One of her hands goes to his back and he has a fleeting thought of both of her hands on his back, clutching at him, nails digging in so deep that they leave scratches that bleed, but it disappears when her other hand rests on his cheek. Fingertips dancing over his cheekbone.

He smiles at her, kissing her hand at the same time he pushes in a third finger. She gasps, clenching around them, eyes tightening in the corners for a few seconds, before she relaxes again.

Now with three fingers, he moves so his thumb is gently rubbing at her clit, wanting to keep slick flowing and not knowing if just his fingers inside of her will do that. The stimulation earns him a sigh and a buck of her hips.

Moving his fingers inside of her, he spreads them a bit before pulling them out and back in. He continues to do that, repeating the same motions and watching as fingers disappear inside of her only to reappear with wetness spread all over them.

“Daniel,” she moans when he goes to push his fingers back in. “Please, I want you in me.” “You don’t want to cum like this?” He rubs a circle on her clit, making her clench, but she shakes her head. “Want you in me. Want to cum around you.” He curses, mind scrambling as he pulls out his fingers, hand grappling in the sheets by her hip where there should be a condom, before his mind catches up, remembering that they decided not to use one.

He shuffles a little, before finally wrapping a hand around himself, guiding himself to her entrance before stopping. The tip just pressing against her as he leans down for a kiss. “I love you.” He murmurs. She smiles, lashes fanning out beautifully as her eyes close for a second. “I love you too.”

Pressing against her, he sucks in a harsh breath as his head pops inside of her. Her walls clinging to it.

“Shit.” He breathes, hips stuttering as he pulls back and then forward, sinking himself a little further into her. “Daniel.” His eyes that he hadn’t even realized closed, open at the sound of his name. “You alright?” He asks, seeing her face twisted a little. “Yeah.” She nods, hands clutching at his back, trying to draw him closer. “Bigger than your fingers.” He huffs out a laugh, pushing in a bit more before finally removing his hand and framing her head with his forearms. “I’d say sorry.” She shakes her head. “It’s okay. Good.” She murmurs. He makes a humming noise, trying not to think about how he already feels good to her and he’s barely inside of her.

Daniel watches her face carefully as he slowly sinks more and more into her. Nearly grabbing the lube to pour some on himself at how tight she is, but her own hips are tilting upwards, trying to get him further in. And it’s a fucking fight to not just sink all the way. Feel her completely wrapped around him.

Another twist of her features has him pausing. “You alright?” She nods, “yeah, just big.” Her hips twist a little to the right and the left as if trying to find a more comfortable position. And his eyes dart upwards to the pillows on his side of the bed.

Planting his left hand on the bed, he moves his right arm until his fingers curl around a pillow. “Lift your hips sweetheart.” She does and he quickly stuffs it underneath her. Cursing himself that he hadn’t thought to do this earlier. “Better?” He asks, seeing her face no longer twisted up and her hips bucking a little. “Much.” And she lifts her head, pressing their lips together. “Thank you.” He shakes his head, “this is supposed to be good for the both of us. I’m just doing my job, sweets.”

He starts to pull out, not expecting the way her nails dig into his back and the whine that comes from the back of her throat. It makes him throb, the arousal he had managed to push away coming to the forefront of his mind with vengeance.

“Dan,” “I know.” He mutters, not sure if he actually does. But continues to pull out until just the head of his cock is inside of her. Walls clinging to it, almost like they’re trying to coax the rest of him back inside of her.

Pushing in again, he groans, head falling at the sound of her moaning.

He continues that. Pulling nearly all the way out before pushing back in, going a little further each time. Until finally he sinks all the way inside of her.

They’re both panting, chests and stomachs sticking together a little with sweat and as he kisses her forehead he can taste the sweat starting to gather there.

“You all good?” He asks after a moment, voice tight as he tries to not start thrusting. “I think I hate your dick.” His laugh immediately fills the room, though he stops quickly at the way it moves the two. “Already? Barely been in you?” He grins at her. She pokes her bottom lip out more, enjoying how his eyes lock onto it. “Just not how I thought this would go.” “You thought about this?” His voice lower, rougher and she can feel blood rush to her face. “Yeah, I mean. Of course.” “Hmm.” He rocks his hips a little enjoying the way her mouth falls open with a gasp. “How’d you think it would go?” “Faster,” she gasps as he rolls his hips. “You wouldn’t have ate me out.” He scoffs at the idea. “You’re lucky I didn’t spend more time there. Especially with how good you taste. Might end up living there, in between your thighs, mouth pressed against your cunt.” She moans and clenches around him at the last word and his eyes shine with delight, grin turning dangerous.

“You like that, sweetheart?” He asks, starting to thrust. “Me talking about your cunt? How sweet it is? How wet and tight?” “Yes.” The sound is a mix of a gasp and a moan. “Love hearing you.” “Hearing me what?” He slows his thrusts to a filthy grind. “Love hearing you,” she pauses to moan as he presses his lips to her neck, head tilting back to give him more space. “Love you talking about my cunt.” He curses at the word coming from her lips, dick twitching, and he nips at her neck. “Filthy little thing. Wanting me to talk about your cunt.” He snaps his hips, earning a cry of pleasure from her.

“You like how my cock fills you up, stretching out your tight, hot, little cunt?” “Yes!” Her hips try to press more into him and he curses, pressing all of his weight into his left forearm as his right goes to grasp at her hip, hand gripping it tight. “Fuck, Daniel.” “Can feel you clench every time I say it. Practically strangling me.” “Daniel!” He can feel the coil in his stomach tightening and he stretches his hand out, thumb barely able to reach her clit where he starts to rub. Her eyes rolling back in her head at the sensation.

“Feel so fucking good around me.” He curses. “Best cunt I’ve ever been in.” And his hips stutter at the way she clenched around him. “Please, Daniel.” “What do you need?” “I,” she’s cut off by a whine. “I don’t know.” And there’s tears in her eyes as she feels her orgasm so close but out of reach. “Shh.” He soothes her, pressing down to kiss her. Loving how she sighs into him, mouth opening up for him. “Want me to pull out?” Her fingers dig in deep and he hisses at the sting of them. “Okay, okay. You want me to go faster?” “Yeah,” and her grip on his back loosens a bit. “Still want you to cum in me.” He groans, hips picking up speed. “Alright. I can do that, baby.”

As his thrusts pick up pace, he presses his thumb a little harder against her clit, rubbing tight circles on the little bud, resulting in whimpers and moans of his name that make him groan.

It’s a never ending loop of pleasure that makes him feel dizzy.

“Daniel,” this whine is a little more high pitched and his eyes are immediately darting to her face. “I’m gonna cum.” “Yeah?” She nods, one of her hands moving from his sweat slicked back to his neck. “Go ahead, baby. Cum for me. Cum around my cock.” He tells her. And she does. Head going back as a beautiful sound leaves her mouth. Her whole body shaking around and under him. Her nails dig into the back of his neck and his back, legs tightening so much around his waist that he can’t thrust but merely grind in her.

It doesn’t matter though because the sound of her cumming, the feeling of it triggers his own orgasm, nearly taking him by surprise and the only thing that leaves his mouth is her name.

He barely manages to pull his hand out from between them, before just about collapsing on top of her, hips still pumping into her a bit as he milks the last of both their orgasms. She makes a slight noise at his weight resting on top of her, but then hums, fingers no longer digging into his skin but running over it with gentle barely there touches.

After a moment, he manages to brace his weight on his forearms again. “Was that alright?” She nods, eyes closed and a blissful smile on her face. “Perfect.” She sighs. “It was perfect.” He ducks his head down, unable to resist kissing her. “It’ll be better next time. I’ll try to prove I can last longer than this.” Her eyes pop open, “longer?” He hums a yes, an arm moving so his hand can gently pull her thigh away from where it’s hugging it’s waist and he presses a kiss to her leg when she lets it drop from him and then the other one. “Maybe not as long as I normally do or can last, but next time will definitely be longer than this.” He tells her as he carefully pulls out of her, rubbing at her thighs when she winces, before sitting on his haunches, her hands slipping away from his body at the movement. “You’re going to kill me.” She whines, a hand going up to cover her face but he can’t reply not with what he’s looking at.

Her thighs are all spread apart, slick on the inside of them, and he can even feel it on his groin. Just knows that if he doesn’t take a shower tonight, he’ll regret it in the morning. But the real thing that’s got his attention is what’s in between her thighs. His soft dick giving a twitch and he knows if he was about ten years younger he’d already be hard again, but now it will take him at least another five minutes.

She’s all slick and shiny. Lips puffy and swollen and her clit is as well. But her hole is gaping slightly as cum, his cum, drips out of it. It makes him want to bury his head back inbetween her thighs, scoop up his cum with his tongue and fuck it back into her. The thought makes him swallow hard and shake his head. Fuck, he really was a dirty bastard.

It’s only as his dick gives another stirring interest that he forces his eyes away. “What did you say?” Daniel asks, only remembering him telling her that he’d last longer next time. “You’re going to kill me.” She repeats, though it’s muffled by her hand. He laughs, “what you’ve never had sex that lasted more than fifteen minutes before? Because trust me sweetheart, it gets good the longer you go.” He nearly winks but her widened eyes and suddenly tense body stops him. “Oh my god.” She murmurs, hand falling away from her face. And suddenly she’s scrambling to sit up, hissing at the way muscles she’s never used before burn. “What? What’s wrong?” He asks, reaching out to hold her, but she shakes her head, and his arms fall back to his sides and hurt filling him. She had never not let him touch her. “I’m so sorry, Dan. I thought I’d mentioned it or brought it up. Whatever you want to call it.” She apologizes, tears starting to gather in her eyes. “Sweetheart, it’s okay.” And he wants to reach out again, but doesn’t want to get rejected again, doesn’t know if he can handle it. “It’s not.” She shakes her head and she regrets not letting him hold her. This would be much easier if he was holding her. “I’ve never, or I had never done this before.” She tells him, but he just looks at her confused and it makes her lips pressed together. “This was my first time.” The words come out a little quiet. “I hadn’t had sex before until now.” His face goes blank at her words and she can feel herself panic a little. “I’m sorry, Daniel. I thought I’d brought it up before. I was so sure I had, because we talk about everything. I don’t know why,” she stops herself with a groan running a hand over her face. “I’m sorry.” She says again, not knowing what to do or say.

Silence fills the room and her eyes fall onto her lap where her hands rest, fingers interlacing before separating and then repeating. Her heart sits a little heavy in her chest. She doesn’t think this will ruin her and Daniel or mark the end of them. But she does think that maybe it will fracture some of his trust in her.

So in her head, she doesn’t notice his arms moving until they’re wrapped around her and pulling her into his lap and she can’t help but make a face realizing that his cum is still trickling out of her and probably trickling onto him.

“Get out of your head, sweetheart.” “Dan,” she starts, but he covers her mouth. “No. Out of your head.” His voice is a little more stern, accent a little thicker and it makes her wriggle a little in his lap. “This doesn’t change anything. We do talk about everything, there’s no blame to be had for thinking we had talked about this when we hadn’t. Besides,” he swallows. “I think earlier you did mention it, but I thought you were talking about our first time, not both yours and our first time. But it’s okay. You know why?” She shakes her head and he removes his hand from her mouth, looking into her eyes. “Because I wouldn’t change a single thing about this night, other than the pillow. I should’ve had your hips propped up from the start.” She lets out a little laugh and he smiles. “But really. I made you cum around my tongue first, got you all relaxed for me. Didn’t half ass the fingering or just stuck it in you. So, I’ve got no problems with this being your first time and ours.” “Really?” “Really.” He then grins, a little smug. “Besides, I kind of like being the only person you’ll ever have sex with.” She laughs, shaking her head. “You’re ridiculous.” But her smile turns soft and she brushes their lips together. “I like the thought of only having sex with you as well.” “Good. Because it’s just you and me for the rest of our lives.” She nods. “Just you and me.”

---

Tagging: @lpab @gemofthenight

[the-monkeies-girl]

51 with caesar?

51. Slow Dancing. Song. "Wait here." Caesar told you, sauntering himself into the actual gas station itself as you were left to relish in the remnants of humanity.

The smile on your face was... Different than anything that Caesar had seen from you and it was hard to pull away. He tried to recollect moments of the past, finding it difficult to pinpoint as you were swept away by the sound of music. Not rhythmic or chanting like the banging the Colony supplied during supple ceremonies, a way to entrance delight and delectation, but... Actual... Music.

Tears bristled around the corner of your eyes as you were unable to look away from the '76' of the gas station. Malcolm and crew were able to successfully get the power back on, something Caesar knew you would not believe until you actually saw it with your own eyes, up close. Caesar was rather well versed in music, his eyes watching through the shattered window as you drifted forwards a bit, your feet pressing into the ground with every beat that was made through the dim speaker. Loud enough to be enjoyed for at least a mile wide radius. He knew what Will, Caroline and Charles enjoyed and given the time to reflect, he would choose Charles' classic music over anything else. And luckily for the King of Apes, there was a CD just for that in the abandoned gas station, along with another pile of more rock, pop and even some disco. Things he did not enjoy himself, but knew that Will and Caroline did. "Have you heard anything so beautiful before?" You whispered quietly, your eyes flashing like neon as Caesar finally emerged from the building. "I--- I haven't heard music like this in so long, I al-almost forgot what it sounded like." Your voice drew into a gasp as you hummed to the familiar tune. Clair de Lune. It was like you were sifting in a dream, your feet felt suddenly weightless as you pressed yourself against your mate, letting your forehead rest against his own for only a moment, Caesar bracing himself for a split second upon the impact you gave him before his green eyes slid shut and he accepted the form of affection without a word. There was nothing that he needed to say.

He did this for you - having stayed behind once Malcolm and the other Humans departed, finding the right CD, admittedly getting angry a few times as he tried to figure the actual device out, and then set back home to tell you and to return the next evening.

You were beautiful, he thought to himself, knowledge that was always there but was never at the forefront until he was alone with you. Instead of your usual motion to reach up and cup the sides of his face to bring him in closer, Caesar felt your arms tangle around his neck and you were suddenly flush against him, chest to chest. He could feel the rapid nature of his own heart sitting against yours as if they were playing time to the piano notes drifting around the two of you.

Mimicking your actions, Caesar hoisted you against him by positioning his arms around your waist, holding onto you by the small of your back and controlling your entire being, which you were more than willing to relinquish. The gasp you gave him at his touch made him wish the music would stop right then and there so he could just listen to you breathing instead, but as you placed your head into the crook of his neck, admiring the always present musk, conifer and river that dance from his scent alone, he digressed. "Don't suppose you know how to slow dance." You joked quietly, getting a mouth full of his fur without worry as you adjusted your head to look at the side of his face. While still intimidating and large, his features did soften just a touch at your words, feeling a slight movement of swaying.

"Raise... by Humans." He muttered, letting himself fall into your hair and take in the smell that was so familiar to him know that he occasionally took advantage of its blossoming fragrance when he was busy, "Do know..." You chuckled at that, eyes sliding shut as he rocked your bodies back in forth, nuzzling a bit further into his neck. Tears began falling from your closed eyelids, down the scape of your face and to get trapped against his fur, "Do Chimps not know how to keep rhythm?" Caesar felt a chortle hit the back of his throat, "Not very... well." "Good enough for me."

[carolmunson]

orange colored sky verse

he toys with the strings, a familiar riff from his late teens, nailed it right before he turned twenty. his foot taps along with the beat, in the zone, in the low hum of a side table lamp where the edison bulb glows orange. sometimes he unwinds like this — plays with his guitar with a bourbon in a glass next to him. better than his therapist, better than a phone call with steve. in his many decades of being alive, it’s the only thing that slows the gears in his head to a stop. just the strings and him. just the music and him.

you pad down the metal steps into the dark open concept kitchen and living room. he’d been off all day, and you knew this was his quiet place. him and his guitar. well, one of them, his favorite.

he doesn’t really look up when you go to the fridge for a pellegrino, he started buying them for his place when you mentioned liking them once. he replays the riff in a melody over and over, your head bobbing with the song.

‘let’s just forgeeettt, everything we said…’ you mumble sing under your breath. enough that his strumming stops and he looks up at you with a goofy grin, glasses perched on his nose.

‘what do you know about this song?’ he asks, voice like a worn record in the quiet of the apartment.

‘i got ears, babe. i was alive when the album came out,’ you laugh, cracking open the water and handing it to him.

‘nah, you would’ve been too young to be listening to that,’ he shakes his curly hair, taking a sip and putting it next to his bourbon.

‘ed it was 1999, you think i didn’t listen to american football in my emo years like, five years later?’ you go back to the fridge to get another water, this time actually for yourself.

‘ah yes, your scene phase,’ he nods, playing a harsh chord across the strings.

you roll your eyes, ‘it’s not a phase.’

‘oh i know,’ he teases. you make your way back over to press a kiss to his cheek.

‘you would know,’ you nod, ‘you’re still stuck in your grunge phase.’

when you lean back up to turn toward the spiral staircase he hear his quiet plea.

‘wait — um,’ he starts, ‘do you wanna stay down here with me?’

you look at him with a soft quirk to your brow, knowing he prefers to be alone when he’s down here tinkering, ‘you sure?’

‘yeah i,’ his face softens, ‘i just like bein’ around you.’

you come back toward him to offer another kiss on his cheek, spiky with new hair growth — not that you mind. you settle down on the sectional in the dark, watching his fingers and hands flow into his forearms while he plays new and old, some originals. he’s not trying to impress you, but you are always impressed when he plays. you know he knows that it does a little something for you.

but what you don’t know is that he’s never met a person that makes him feel quite like it does when he plays his guitar. that flows through him so effortlessly, like every song he’s ever written. you’re his favorite music to play.

[shadowsndaisies]

dogfighting 101: 04 - 'nix is sick of this shit

wc: 595

synopsis: phoenix prides herself on knowing almost everything pertinent, it's the parts she doesn't know that leaves her on edge.

main masterlist

athena-verse master post

a/n: the support with this universe has been incredible, thank you all so much, i really enjoy being able to write shorter pieces as an outlet while working on my 10k an update longer series. (ps: taglist is still open!)

“Okay. What the hell is going on?” Natasha's voice is firm.

Bob to his credit seems a little anxious from where he's stood a few feet behind her. He's obviously trying to respect your privacy, but something tells you he's also there to be a witness for whatever this confrontation was about.

“You're going to have to specify Phoenix,” you tell her flatly.

You were sat on a bench in the locker room, redoing your hair before your next run. You’d needed a moment to splash some water on your face and refocus. Bob and ‘Nix were still in their gear as well, they were next on the rotation.

“Where do I even start? You and Rooster? Him and Maverick? How about Harvard and Yale’s attitude too?” she huffs and you meet her gaze challengingly.

“Don’t worry about it,” is all you offer in response.

Natasha lets out a groan, and Bob winces. “Well it's too late for that!” she huffs, very clearly annoyed.

“Leave it alone, ‘Nix,” you tell her, tone serious.

“No! I have never heard you shout at someone like that, especially not while in the air! Honestly, I’ve never heard Rooster get that wound up either! What the fuck is going on?”

“Seriously, Nat, just drop it,” you tell her, shaking your head.

“I can't! I won’t! I’m going on this mission Athena, you know it and I know it. I don't know why Hangman only ever listens to you, or why he leaves every one else out to dry, but I do not want him leading that team. I need it to be you and Rooster. But if you and Rooster can't fucking get along we're all screwed.”

You frown at her and you understand where she's coming from, but part of you can’t help but stay closed off, especially about this. “Nat, we don't have the time, and honestly… honestly it’s none of your business,” you say voice firm.

The look in her eye turns hard, but you stand your ground. You’d always been able to give it to each other straight, calling the other out when necessary, and drawing hard lines when needed. This was one of those times.

“This isn’t like you, and it’s not like Rooster and there’s something going on that you’re both ignoring,” she decides.

There’s a lot we’re ignoring, you want to say. “Let it go, Trace. Final warning,” you say instead, you’re honestly not entirely sure what will happen if she keeps pushing, you’re not sure you want to see who would win in a battle of wills between the two of you, you know you both will get hurt in the process.

She seems to have the same realization because instead of pushing further, she lets out another groan, “This isn’t over!” she shouts as she stomps off, a bashful Bob in tow.

“I would never dream,” you mutter sarcastically after her, tucking your hair back up, and then heading back to the waiting room.

You want to say the cold water and redoing your hair helped, but you feel just as exhausted as you did after stalking off the tarmac leaving Bradley behind. You see him when you walk in, and his eyes focus on you. Your lips tug down and you turn looking for your next partner.

You spot Fritz still waiting by your gear, and you offer a tense smile as you pick up your vest and sling it back on.

“Ready?” he asks.

“Yeah, let’s hit it,” you confirm, before following him back down to the tarmac.

...

everything: @butterfly-skinnylegend

athena’s tags: @omgbrianab @smoothdogsgirl @bazellawriz @sbrewer21 @inky-sun @djs8891 @rory-cakes @geeksareunique @je6291 @kee-0-kee @fanreader75 @whoismurphyslaw @samanddeaninatrenchcoat

[merrysithmas]

continuing my DP, Wolverine, Spidey teamup movie ideas I live for a situation where Spiderman offhandedly mentions he is going through this subplot in his own 'verse where he has this really evil villain. Like this is a vile, inhuman, violent fcker with no regard for life, no hope of seeing the light, just a downright scumbag fascist.

We see it's weighing on him because Spiderman always strives to help "villains" who have lost their way or at least lead them to redemption if possible, but in this situation it's just... impossible. There is only continued violence in the face of which an impotent Peter always fails make a difference. Spiderman - hero or menace? Deep down he feels like he has blood on his hands because he doesn't have the "guts" to do what it takes.

But we know, since he's PG-13, Spiderman can't ever actually technically unalive villains himself. So he's just being tormented by this ahole for longer than anyone can imagine, and the Villain himself knows he can't die - bc of the moral & writerly strictures on Peter - which just emboldens said Villain further to do more and more heinous shit. This, of course, just destroys Peter who we know has lost so many people and carries a heavy guilt complex. He knows he can never actually stop the Villain good.

So at one point we have Wade, bedecked in the completely ill-fitting Spiderman costume that he lifted off screen, looking significantly more sinister than usual, striding into said Villain's lair and lethally taking out every goon with next to no effort. It looks jarring because he has none of Spidey's grace and fluid aerobatics, just some cold hard heat.

And upon seeing "Spiderman" again the Villain is delighted, ready for another twisted moustache-twirly convo in which he can destroy Peter's self-esteem but before he can pop off with his Mocking Villainous Monologue, Wade just lays into him with every weapon in the book, leaving him a bleeding husk in his chair.

That's all she wrote.

Meanwhile, there's some serious shit going down and Peter cannot find his Spiderman suit so has to resort to throwing on Deadpool's too-big costume - he's like hurling about it ("Does he ever wash this!?"), but swings into action with the katanas on his back (falling and slipping several times because of the strange weight distribution) - rounding up a few DP villains with a lot more Friendly Neighborhood Spiderman than Merc with a Mouth.

Everyone's like wtf because he's doing acrobatics and looks absolutely possessed in the too-big suit. And they're just generally so afraid by the appearance of it and what they perceive to be Wade's new skills they just lay down their weapons peacefully, shaking in fear.

Meanwhile Peter is trying to impersonate Wade while talking to them and they're all soooo confused. The costume looks like a creepy, deflating balloon on Peter. Okay whatever you do just don't hurt us, Deadpool! Meanwhile Peter is like, What? Why would I hurt you? And they're all getting more and more terrified by the second lmao, volunteering for community service, screaming and promising to donate all their spoils to the poor, throwing money at him.

So in the end it results in some really good press for both of them and a moment of Justin Timberlake "Mirror" realization when Wade walks in wearing the Spiderman suit covered in like 6 gallons of blood and Peter walks in wearing the DP suit carrying like 12 bouquets of flowers and covered in kiss marks from the thankful public.

Then Wolverine comes in from a completely unrelated errand and the music stops and he's like, ??? and Peter starts to explain everything and Wolvie just stands there arms crossed listening with the most disgruntled expression. And when Peter is done Wolvie is like - Not surprised, I could never tell you apart anyway.

And we find out he could never tell the difference between the two of them while they're in their suits in the first place. Peter and Wade are sooo offended, they're like we sound totally different and we are completely different heights! We've been on like 5 missions together!

and Logan is just like, studying them, we can see from the shot they look totally different. Peter is shook, "Well?"

Logan's squinting at them, no recognition, and then rolls his eyes, grunting,

"Whatever, Murdock. I need a beer."

[fanficsat12am]

how the brothers and datables reacting to mc who giggles and blushes when reading romance books I Leviathan, Satan & Asmodeus

Request from @dionyjoons: Hello, I was wondering if you could do the brothers (and maybe solomon and simeon) reacting to mc who keeps giggling and blushing when reading romance books please :)

AN: BREAK IS FINALLY NEAR WHICH MEANS I CAN WRITE MORE IN THE FUTURE. IM SO SORRY FOR THE LONG WAIT, SCHOOL HAS LEGIT TAKEN ALL MY TIME. ANYWAYS, HERE'S THE SECOND PART OF THE GIGGLE AND BLUSH HEADCANON THING!! HOPE YOU LIKE IT

📜 𝙼𝙰𝚂𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙻𝙸𝚂𝚃!! 📜 Buy me a coffee? Lucifer & Mammon Beelzebub & Belphegor Solomon & Simeon Diavolo & Barbatos

Leviathan

Honestly...same. He understands the feeling of admiring “fictional” characters, and he’s undoubtedly no stranger to it. When you started the habit of giggling to yourself while he played his games and blushing at your book, he will admit that a small pang of jealousy was there. He’d start to get pouty and a bit clingy, thinking you'd leave him for a book. He wanted to find out what’s so good about the person and found the time to buy an audiobook of it. When Levi started listening to it, he compared himself with the character every chance he got but slowly realized that he found himself to be very similar to them. You confirmed this when you said “Why do you think I like it so much? Gamer boys are just adorable.” Him? Adorable? He disagrees. He’s just another yucky otaku right? All those doubts fade away though every time he hears your giggles. It’s as if you’re reading all the reasons you loved him in the first place and falling for him once again, and that gives him a sense of comfort.

“What chapter you in, Normie?”

“Oh thirty-seven! The two of them just had a-”

“La la la la la, I don’t want spoilers!”

Satan

He didn’t mind the sound nor was he complaining when your face went red. What he piqued his curiosity though was when you’d hit him on the shoulder when you got giddy. It started off as light smacks which quickly escalated to harsh pushes that almost flew him off his seat. Yet despite all this, he made no comment on it. He was enjoying it in fact, liking the thought of your loving the book that much. He bought a copy of it for himself to see what all the fuss was about. The person in the book was very witty and well versed with the arts, allowing the character to earn Satan’s respect—he even took some notes down. Now every time you giggle and blush, it wasn’t only because of the book, but in fact him making your fantasies into reality. The love interest wrote a poem, no problem. They gave a bouquet of flowers? Done. He’ll happily do it over and over again just to see you a giggling flustered mess.

“You do know you’re indirectly spoiling me the next chapters by doing this, Satan”

“Who said your book’s my only reference? I’ve got a whole wall of romance books and I’m ready to recreate each and every one of them” 

Asmodeus

Tell him the gossip, don’t hold back. As soon as he notices you giggling and blushing at a book, he would start interrogating you about the guy like a bestie would ask about your crush. If he’s going to be sharing your heart, the other person has obviously got to be deserving of it and at the same level as the both of you. You’d start telling him about the character and it would end with two people squealing the whole night. Asmo would frequently ask about the book and what happened in it. You’d fawn and cry over the book together. 

“I’ve gotta say, you’ve got a great taste in men, Darlin”

“Of course I do. Don’t you think I already knew that when I started dating you?”

“Periodt! Ugh I never doubted you for a second”

[mastermindmp3]

Time to talk about the shortest taylor swift song to date

no, seriously, how did she only give us 2:11 of this song.

WELL, actually, okay. Much like So High School, I think I Look in People's Windows is a song that perfectly captures the feeling it's going for, executes its idea, and then doesn't overstay its welcome. Unlike So High School, though, I Look in People's Windows could've stayed just a tad bit longer. Like, I would not be upset at another verse, maybe a little bit of vamping at the end.

That said, what we do have of the song is so perfectly haunting. Swift's catalogue is dominated by questions, by songs longing for futures that will never come to pass. She encapsulates the feeling of missing someone to the point that you try to will them into your life. It brings to mind I see your face in every crowd from Holy Ground, or I see your profile and your smile on unsuspecting waiters from Is It Over Now?

A production thing I love from I Look in People's Windows is the lo-fi, almost bit-crushed bird songs between the verses. It follows the lyrics a feather taken by the window blowing / I'm afflicted by the not knowing very well; the person she loves has drifted away from her with the same ease as a bird taking flight.

We think of bird calls as sunny days, sitting on park benches as people laugh together and feeling smiles creep up our face. Swift has chosen to invert the meaning - her narrator is walking through streets, and while the people around her are happy (attending Christmas parties, drinking nice wine) but she is not.

The narrator picks through the tiny details, signs she feels maybe she missed before she was left. I spied the catch in your breath / you had stopped and tilted your head. She doesn't know, she doesn't understand why she's outside, why she's alone.

Does it feel okay to not know me? the narrator asks the object of her obsession. The song is all about missed connections, about the if only's that she's addicted to. It ties back into Chloe et al, the wondering about how it could have turned out, how it could have been.

I attend Christmas parties from outside, which is so heart wrenching. Christmas as a time of family is often lost in the sauce of consumerism, but Swift's narrator isn't invited either way. Whether it is friends of friends playing Dirty Santa or families sharing happy news by the fire, Swift's narrator stands outside in the cold. She watches people she once considered family live their lives, without her.

In The Outside, Swift described a narrator who has been a lot of lonely places / I've never been on the outside.

In Holy Ground, the narrator says that sometimes I wonder how you think about it now / and I see your face in every crowd.

In Is It Over Now?, Swift describes a narrator, long after the date of death, questioning her former lover: was it over when she laid down on your couch?

In the 1, she mentioned rosé flowing with your chosen family / and it would've been sweet / if it could've been me.

In Chloe or Sam or Sophia or Marcus, she asks the listener, Will I always wonder?

And in I Look in People's Windows, Swift's narrator is left asking: What if your eyes looked up at met mine one more time?

[boolger]

READ ME A VERSE - COD

☆Kate Laswell x afab!Reader - explicit - MDNI - 11k words ☆AU to a certain degree. Reader and Kate are in a fictional radical christian group who is pretty secluded in a little town. Inspired by the song Verse by Emily Jeffri, which i have been obsessed with for a while, but in particular this part;

“Last time I saw her, we were in church I said my love to her and somebody heard We haven't locked eyes since or said a word.” Verse, by Emily Jeffri

☆tags: radical religion, homophobia, religious homophobia, internalized homophobia, sexism, abuse, violence, isolation, mention of miscarriage, dub-con, non-con sex, non-con kissing, victim blaming, bad parents, mention of death, afab!reader, forced marriage, masturbation, fingering, oral sex. Happy ending.

☆Summary: You had been considered ‘sick’ for years, sent away from your hometown and family to get better, isolated and forced to repent. But years later, when you are ‘healed’ and granted permission to return, there is a woman in church that you don’t know. You want to be a good Christian woman, even if you don’t want to marry Phillips Graves, but this Kate haunts your mind. No prayers can stop your thoughts, the verses are not able to stop how the two of you  constantly feel pulled towards each other, lured by your sinful thoughts and the lust for actual love.

You grew up here, in between good Christian women and men, with sin seeping into your bones, only hidden by your fragile flesh and skin. Organs rotten with wicked thoughts, every day of sickness a punishment for your refusal to repent, you were sure.

That was the way you had lived your entire life, knowing something was wrong with you - but every waking hour, you couldn’t help but wonder, if this sin, this evil, the crime, was merely that in their eyes. In the community’s eyes.

Once, when you were younger, 19 and naive, you had told your best friend, thinking she could keep the secret, thinking she might understand that it wasn’t something that should be said out loud. Yet, barely 24 hours passed and then your parents knew, pulling you to the church, to the elders of your village, the leaders of the church making you admit out loud to your immorality, to the sinful demons of lust that had taken over your body.

Women aren’t supposed to fall in love with other women, they said, you’re not supposed to lust after another woman - your lust is only for your future husband.

Your mother cried, sobs echoing through the empty church, no doubt with people around it, listening in to the judgment of the crime that had never manifested anywhere but your body.

Your father’s face was like stone, but the disappointment dripped from him wordlessly, at his refusal to even look at you.

It can be cured, they said, their wrinkled faces spitting out your sentence, praying, bible reading, hard work - and sending her away. Only when she is changed, when she truly repents, can she be loved by our Lord again.

With such simple words, your fate had been sealed for the upcoming years, pulling you from your well-known home, from your family and the town you had never truly left for longer than a couple of hours. To a farm, miles and miles away. You had been there once, several years ago with your family, vague memories of petting some cows and collecting eggs.

Instead you watched the car drive away after an hour or so, leaving you behind in the middle of nowhere, your trusty flip-phone taken from you as well.

At the farm, two couples lived, a younger and an older pair. The only good thing about your years at the place was that you couldn’t be married off when considered “sick”. You prayed that God would never forgive you, when you saw how the couples treated each other. A couple of farmhands appeared now and again, that you weren’t allowed to speak to but other than that, you didn’t speak to anyone but the couples.

You lived in a small room, bare walls except the cross next to your bed and the painting of Jesus next  to the door - caught in between a painting of a man you were constantly forced to read about and a crucifix that would remind you of the punishments if you didn’t change.

Simple food, simple clothes, work hard, routines and prayers several times a day. The men would read out verses in the evenings sometimes, as you all sat around them. You weren’t allowed to watch anything but specific christians movies every saturday. After watching each one twice, you stopped asking for it.

A year passed before you saw your parents again. Once again your mother was crying, but she seemed happier now, talking about how you had grown, how you looked healthier. You showed her and the upper church members who had tagged along around the farm, doing your best to seem better. Sinfre. Never mentioning anything bad. They went into the kitchen to talk, while you were sent to feed the chicken and collect eggs, denied access to your second judgment.

Another year, they said, another year would do her well, just to make sure she is truly well again.

Your mother kissed your forehead, telling you to read your verses, your father saying he would pray for you. They all would, they comforted you, another year and you could join them in the car, go home with them.

That night you ran, crawling through the window, abandoning Jesus and his crucifix, no plan in mind other than to get away. Another year wouldn’t cure you, one year hadn’t even done much. You understood it was wrong, sure, but you couldn’t stop it. You refused to be on the farm till you turned 21. 

The town wouldn’t offer you any sanctuary, you knew, so you ran the opposite way, into the unknown darkness.

They found you the next day, walking along the road towards another town, hoping someone would pick you up and help you. You screamed, fighting all you could, scratched and kicked as they pulled you back into the car - returning you to the farm. They belted the soles of your feet until they bled and left you in your cleared room, with nothing but a bible.

You knew then, that it would probably be more than a year before you would return home. After that night, the door to your room was locked every night, bars put in front of the window, keeping you from crawling out through it again.

Days passed, prayers spilling from your mind, weeks then, verses recited, months - it took almost three years more before the lies spilled as easily from your lips as the prayers did, and the people around you finally dared to believe. The lies about dreaming of a husband, of stepping into the role of a good, christian housewife, of bearing children for your husband, all sin free. You were a good girl now, a woman of God, who prayed every night for a husband and finally, finally they believed you, men of the church and your parents once again returning. 

You felt alienated to them, yet you smiled, saying you were cured now. Said you dreamt of marrying, of having your own house with a husband. Your mother cried tears of joy. Healthy again, you stepped into the car, going back to a town you no longer considered home, after four years of departure. 

“A sheep led back to the fold by the Lord,” your mother whispered to you in the car, holding your hand, but you felt no relief as you returned to the town.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

You had thought you could wait a little longer - thought they wouldn’t bring it up so soon, but you supposed it made sense in a way; they had to prove to the town that you were cured, you had to prove that the homosexuality no longer festered inside your body, but that you had become a pure woman now. A woman, just waiting to be married off.

Usually, women in the town would marry when they turned 21, so to not be married at 23, almost 24? A scandal that had to be avoided, your status had to be changed as soon as possible.

It was the first time back in church, back in the fold, that you saw her.

The most beautiful woman you had ever seen. Dark blond hair neatly pulled back in a low bun, face sharp and eyes blue, arm in arm with Shepherd - despite the modest clothes, you felt a fire run through you, the wounds blooming up inside your rotten organs, crawling along the spine like demons, demons that the priest and elders had promised were banished. The wrong thoughts and feelings to have inside a church - God would judge you, wouldn’t he? 

Let you suffer, just like Christ had, make them pull you back to the farm.  

You hurried to look away, instead looking at the men in church. Asking your mother about some of the men, some new members. You had been gone for almost four years, things had changed, people had passed, babies had been born.

Your old best friend, whom you had whispered your secret to, who had done the right thing according to everyone around you, had married her childhood crush, carrying a small child on her arm - smiling at you as she passed, her stomach having the iconic bump proving another child was on the way.

Most of the people you had grown up with and considered friends were married now, most of them already parents as well. 

You had spent years worshiping in silence, barely surrounded by more than 4 people and now you were surrounded by over 100 followers, singing the hymns of the Lord that was supposed to have freed you from the madness of your lust.

She sang too, you noted, sitting dutifully next to Shepherd who looked like an old man next to her, though you doubted he was that much older. You grabbed your hymnbook harder, fingers hurting with how hard you gripped it, looking down even though you knew every word and tone.

The prayers spilled easily, the verses familiar, the daily cleansing of your soul. 

Your eyes had met, just for a second. It was like your world paused, frozen, just to make sure that you understood that she had looked at you too. Only to immediately look away again, both of you pretending you hadn’t looked. Like a fallen angel, ready to be overcome with the thing that made you unholy at the first point, you let yourself dream of meeting her, properly.

Your appearance at the church, well looking and submissive, dutifully following your parents, knowing your prayers, your worship clear, it all made your parents look good. The priest blessed you as you left, saying it was good to have you back. You thanked him, saying it was good to be back, to be free of demons.

Lies, lies, lies, spilling from your lips, just like the prayers, prayers, prayers. You wanted them to be true, wanted to be free so that you wouldn’t suffer so much. 

But butterflies uncurled from their cocoons as you passed the woman who stood with Sheperd, your parents greeting them politely - you too, smiling as a good girl should, your eyes lingering on her for just a second longer, noting how she was looking at you too; it was your imagination surely, but still. You followed your parents, your sister who had been 15 when you left and who was 19 now, the age at which you had disappeared, babbling away.

“She is Mr. Shepherd's new wife, Kate Laswell,” your sister explained as you sat next to each other in the car, apparently aware of everything going on in the town now - or at least, of the gossip, “An outsider, mind you.”

“Alice,” your mother warned from the front seat, the tone sharp, “She isn’t any longer - and she is Mrs. Shepherd, not Laswell anymore. Besides, her parents are good Christian people too… just not a part of our Church. Yet.”

Your sister just waved her hand at her, as if to say ‘details details, mother’, while she continued, “He met her about three years ago on a trip, she came here while you were sick and they married. Before coming here she had a miscarria–”

“Alice!” Your mother turned around in the seat, sending your sister a sharp look, clearly displeased, just as the car pulled into the little driveway, “It’s improper to talk about such things.”

“Sorry, mom,” Alice said, even as she didn’t look apologetic one bit.

You were still stuck at her words, while you were sick. The memories of running in the night, the endless hours of work, of prayers and verses that were supposed to free you. Of people telling you that you were sick, that demons had possessed you. Four years of being turned into a good, pious woman.

“Mr. Shepherd is a good man,” you said, feeling emotionless but knowing that was what you were supposed to say, if this thing had been told to you while on the farm.

“He is,” your mother confirmed, “He is happier after he met her, too - now come on, we have things to do.”

You knew his first wife had died - pneumonia, they said, quickly and without warning - God always takes the good ones first. The bells had rung, echoing through the houses, into your mind as you remembered how the entire town wore black at the funeral. Had it only been that sickness that had curled in between your ribs and infected your organs, things might have ended differently. 

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

The Graves family was respected in your little town, wealthy, the Mr. Graves Senior one of the church leaders.  He had been one those who took a part of your judgment, of sealing your fate for four years, making your parents abandon you in between harsh treatment and farm animals, surrounded by neverending fields of wheat and corn.

Yet, somehow, despite knowing of your sickness first hand, having been a part of the healing, having touched your head and prayed for you, he still came to your parents’ house, with a smile on his lips.

Feeling hostage in your own childhood home, you served him and your father dinner with your mother, leaving your parents to talk with the older man, told off to do the laundry. You only returned once the doorbell rang, opening it…

To one Mr. Graves Jr.

“My my,” he stepped in, pushing the door open as you stepped back out of reflex, his blue eyes instantly on you, shamelessly running over your body, the arrogant smile you remembered from when you were younger, still present on his face “Haven’t you grown.”

“Mr. Graves,” you answered politely, already wanting to request him to leave. To not look at you in such a manner, to not say such words in that tone. 

“Nah, just call me Phillip, darling. You will soon anyway.” His voice was honeyed and he winked at you and before you could ask what he meant, your mother appeared - ushering you away and back to the laundry room, while he was led to the living room.

You tried distracting yourself, humming the familiar hymns as you emptied the washing machine, loading it with dirty clothes, wishing you could enter it too - but no matter what, the words you will soon anyway echoed inside your hollow body.

The Graves family was respected. They were looked up to by many people, one of the few families where the men were allowed to leave now and again. Even having the father of the family over for lunch like this, was a good sign that your family was being respected again, despite the veil of disgrace you had thrown over them.

So really, you should be honored. Not feel nausea in your throat, your heart beating so fast you were sure it would spring out from your ribcage, barely able to breathe. You could barely get the word out. 

“Marriage?” You repeated, watching your mother’s excited face as she nodded, your father proudly smoking behind her, standing in the door frame, clearly pleased too, “With… Mr. Graves’ son?”

“Yes dear – oh Phillip is a kind man, bless his heart,” you didn’t like her tone, “Even with everything that has happened, he still wants to marry you!”

“He is a good man,” Your father added from the door frame, eyes watching you, clearly waiting for a reaction, “Wanted to marry you before you were sick - waited for you.”

Waited for you.

You wanted to scream of horror. Legs trembling, feeling like you went blind for a second. Once, when you were a child and your family had been driving home, a deer had been caught in the lights of the car, gone rigid at the sight. It had managed to escape, just in time, saved from death. You had a feeling you wouldn’t be able to escape your fate, however. 

“I don’t know if I–” you barely knew what apology to spew out, what lies to tell them.

“Don’t worry - I know this is sudden, dear,” you mom said, taking your hands in hers, leaning forward to kiss your forehead, “but God is really looking out for you.”

“It’s a miracle that the Graves family would even consider her,” your father muttered, thrown at you like a stone, but you barely felt the impact, even as your mother hissed his name.

“Oh, I’ll have to call my sister - you will have the grandest wedding, my baby girl.”

That was what you feared. Your mother disappeared again to go call her sister and within hours the entire town would probably know - not even caring what your answer had been to the proposal that hadn’t happened. 

“You’re not going to cause a scene, are you?” Your father stared at you and you wondered for a moment if you would prefer the farm over this. Out there your tears would dry, no woman could seduce your mind, no man would marry you.

“No,” you answered, giving him a smile that barely seemed real, “of course not.”

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

You stared at the date, the 8th of July, 2010, with your name printed next to Phillip Graves Jr. - to be wed. They had given you two months, two months to get to know each other, though you knew you wouldn’t get a say, not truly.

The mere fact that Graves Senior hadn’t stopped his son, meant that they all believed you were free of sin. Yet you always felt watched. As if the security cameras scattered around the town would be able to catch the way you were still sick.

“You’re getting married,” a gentle voice said behind you; it wasn’t a question, more of a statement - just like it had been for you. 

You turned, distracted from the bulletin board in front of the Church, only for your eyes to meet those blue ones you kept dreaming of.

“Mr. Shepherd,” you greeted, giving her what you hoped was a polite smile, “I am, yes - in two months.”

She nodded, turning to look at the bulletin board. You dared to think that the smile on her face truly looked a little sad.

“Were you given a choice?” her voice was careful, barely above a whisper. You stared at her, barely able to blink for a couple of seconds as the words sank in.

“His offer of proposal is a blessing,” you felt like it was your mother’s words that escaped you, not your own, “given my time of… sickness… it’s very kind of the Graves family to have even considered me.”

As your eyes met, you recognised the look. Sad, resigned in a way, as if she recognised that it wasn’t your own words, that you were a mere hostage in this situation. You wondered for a brief moment if her situation had been like this. If she too hadn’t had a choice, even though she was older than you. Probably ten years. No more than that. Her lips looked soft, but bitten; probably from nervousness, your mother did that too sometimes. 

“It is not a sickness.”

Five words. She made it sound so simple. You felt your jaw clench, your teeth grind together. Verses ran through your mind, prayers through your blood, the urge to step into the church and repent, for something you hadn’t even said.

“Don’t say shit like that,” you hissed, anger that was forced down your throat for years escaping you, as you looked back at the board, whispering out a “it is.”

“No, it’s not.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” it was like needles escaped your mouth, forcing words of others, “it’s because you’re from the outside.”

“What if–”

“I must go,” you said, fearing you had stood there on the main street, close to her for too long, “Have a good day.”

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

It is not a sickness, it echoed through your mind for several days, it is not a sickness.

Tell on her, a dark part of your mind offered, she is spewing sin. But if you told on her to the elders, then you would have to tell why the subject was even present in your conversation.

What if you would never see her again then? The mere idea of not getting to see her again, made you want to cry, even if you had barely talked.

The world outside our community is godless, they said, disgraceful and evil, with demons and fallen angels roaming among the humans. Leaving us is like surrendering your place in heaven with our Lord.

Yet you yearned. With each ring of the church bell, you wondered if you could find peace outside, even if it meant your eternal damnation. 

No verses had the answers to why you were sick. They had tried to tell you many proved it, yet it was like it never quite fit.

As if God wouldn’t admit to you why he made you this way, even as you submitted to him. 

You wanted Kate despite barely having talked to her, certain in your bones that something connected you. Whatever it was.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

You didn’t have a lot of opinions when it came to planning the wedding - it didn’t feel like yours anyways. You saw her, now and again. Glimpses of her as you looked at flower options with your mother at the little florist of the town. In church, next to her husband, never looking happy.

Your eyes met, but you never talked. Anger bubbled beneath your skin, remembering her saying it wasn’t a sickness.

Because if it wasn’t, truly wasn’t, like she had dared to say and you dared to dream, then you had spent four years in hell for nothing. Then you had endured four years of loneliness, surrounded by ghosts who merely reminded you of the words in the book that was your entire word. Watched every night by the painting of Christ, who said love thy neighbor like thyself , but according to the town that didn’t count if thy neighbor were gay.

It was the scars beneath your feet that ache after a long day, it was the darkness of the room you were abandoned in with your bible. These made you angry, when she dared to come here and say it wasn’t a sickness, that it wasn’t wrong.

Because… it was… wasn’t it?

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Despite your anger, the pleasure continued to grow in your abdomen until it became too much.

Pulling open the string of your pajama pants felt wrong, yet you did it, sliding your hand beneath the fabric, then beneath your underwear too. You were 24, you had touched yourself before but it had been years. The farm had snubbed any urge.

You thought of her hands, wandering over your skin, her soft looking, anxious bitten lips kissing yours. Skin pressed against yours, nails digging into it.

Your cunt was wet as you hesitantly touched yourself, fingers sliding in between the lips, the wetness feeling forbidden and sacred almost. It felt as if your body was on fire, a fire that you thought had been killed years ago, making you press your lips together to keep silent. To not let any sound escape your traitorous mouth that had lied for so long, electricity going through your bones as your fingers brushed your clit.

Whether Kate would touch you there or not, you dared to hope she would. You dared to hope that she would let you touch her, the sinful ideas mixing with the shame, though it only seemed to spur you on.

Toes curled, legs cramping and eyelashes fluttered as you came on two fingers, imagining Kate being next to you. Immoral, just like you.

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“Graves,” The name stumbled from your mouth as you stumbled back a few steps, feeling trapped in the garden, your back almost pressed against the apple tree, the fruits hanging around you, heavy on the branches. Your fingers gripped the basket with the apples so hard that you feared it might splinter beneath them.

“That’s my father, darling,” the older man pointed out, stepping closer, breathing a little heavy as he looked at you, confident smile on his lips as always, “I told you to call me Phillip, didn’t I?”

You let out a little huff, smiling at him the best you could, “yeah, sorry - Philip, then.”

“You look beautiful,” it dripped like honey soaked from his lips and you wondered for a moment, if the honey could be poisoned, if he was the snake in the garden - or if the sickness inside you were, “love your dress.”

He stepped closer, your heart quickening, yet not from excitement. 

“T-thank you,” you managed, face heating up, eyes flickering towards the house, but you didn’t see any sign of your parents being home - had he just wandered into the garden, knowing you were home alone, “I uhm - why are you here, Phillip?” 

He laughed, reaching out to take one of the apples out of your basket, big hand almost swallowing up the fresh fruit.

“What? Can’t I go lookin’ for my wife?” There was a boyish charm to him, you supposed. Most of the women in town would swoon for him and you wondered why he had decided on you.

“We’re not married yet,” you pointed out before you could help yourself, “you really shouldn’t be here, if our parents–”

“What? Think they will be upset about me being here?” he teased, free hand suddenly raising to gently caress your cheek, taking a hold of your chin, leaning closer, grip stopping you from pulling your head back, “I’m a man, darling - not a woman.”

You swallowed.

“Dirty thing,” he crooned, “I’m gonna heal you, yeah? Make you a good an’ proper woman.”

“I-I’m not dirty,” you whispered, barely believing your own words, “I was healed at the farm.” 

He chuckled, dark and low, grinning so you could see his gums and you wondered if he would ruin you, bite from bite, take your life from you, “Not properly cured until you marry a man, hon.”

All you felt when he kissed you were burned saccharine and bitter fear. It was a short kiss but it burned on your lips, spreading nausea through your body like a plague, infecting your blood. He let go of you then, stepped back, winking as he raised the apple, “I’ll see ya’ soon, wifey.” 

As he left the garden of Eden, the crisp sound of his bite of the fruit almost echoing, you couldn’t help but hope there was a worm in the apple.

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You went to church the next day, earlier than you were supposed to, promising to do your chores later. You needed to talk to God, Mary, Christ, whoever would listen, any saint who might help you feel clean again. Homosexual sin tainting your fingers from masturbation and burning impure lips from the unwelcome kiss from your future husband. 

What were you thinking, they would say, you were sure, have you learned nothing? Have you gone mad, sick again from the devils and demons dancing inside your mind and body?

Christ hung on the crucifix in front of you as you sat on the pew, looking up at him. Would he consider you wicked too or had he forgiven you the moment he took upon humanity’s sins?

Would Saint Peter truly turn you away, push you from the loving home of heaven, to the dark, demonic –

“Hi.”

It was barely above a whisper, yet you felt as if it echoed throughout the church, into every crevice, making any statue or painting upon the walls look to the two of you. You turned on reflex, not to her, but to the everpresent church servant. The man was snoring gently, head resting against the cold wall behind him. Unaware of the other’s arrival. 

Finally, your eyes met Kate’s, flowers blooming in the pit of your stomach as she smiled gently at you.

“Hi,” you dared to whisper back, watching her as she sat down next to you at the pew.

Silence grew for a moment and you listened to the vague snoring of the servant, your eyes moving to watch Christ on the cross once again. He hadn’t moved one bit since you last looked at him, eyes still on the ground in front of him.

“I’m sorry I upset you.”

Forgiveness - could you really offer her forgiveness, when deep down in your putrid organs, you knew that she was right? You looked over at her, a careful, worried expression on her face.

“It’s okay,” you answered, voice not as loud, “I - uhm… Was mean too.” A small smile appeared and you found yourself smiling back at her, despite your fear. For another moment you hesitated, unsure whether you should utter the truth at her or not. “I don’t want to marry him.”

The words made you feel small, but you continued, though you looked up at Christ once again, keeping your voice low, “but I don’t have a choice, do I?”

She was quiet for a moment, as if to agree with you silently. It was as Philip Graves had said, wasn’t it? A dirty thing who can only become pure again by marriage with a man.

“You do,” she whispered, “but it’s not an easy one.”

You almost jumped when her hand touched yours, warm and soft against your skin. A choice, an opportunity. You had an inkling that you already knew what she would suggest, a part of you wanting to stop her from doing so.

“Leave,” she whispered, the word sounding so simple, yet it was filled to the brim with danger, immorality… the unknown.

“I can’t,” it escaped like an instinct, “My home is here.”

“Is it a home if you cannot be yourself?” Her hand squeezed yours, “don’t let them convince you to marry, don’t make the same mistake as me. Please.”

The sound of the bells rang throughout the church, calling to the daily prayer. She stood suddenly, hand slipping away from yours, stepping to the pew on the opposite side, eyes turned towards the altar. A groan left the Church servant, who mumbled a little, surprised at the sight of you - but he made no other comment.

Don’t let them convince you to marry, don’t make the same mistake as me.

Was she, as an outsider, forced too? She was older than you, probably around 32 or something, but she had been here three years, while you were at the farm. Shepherd was older than her, probably only a few years, but the everpresent angry look always made him seem older.

The prayers tasted like ash at that Church sentence, not dripping as easily as they used to. You did your best to hide it, listening to the verses, worshiping like you were expected to.

Philip winked at you as he passed you on the way out. Creep.

Your eyes met Kate’s  but you didn’t react and neither did she. It was like playing with fire - you were sure your parents wouldn’t find her company too agreeable. 

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“He is your fiance,” your mother pointed out as you stared at the apples you were cutting up, trying to keep the scowl from your face,“I think a walk together near the lake would be a good idea. So you can get to know each other some more.”

“What if…” you didn’t know how to not express your already growing disdain for your future husband, “What if he wants to do something improper? Like, I don’t know, kiss?”

Your mother laughed, your father huffing from behind the local newspaper.

“Philip is a good man,” your mother said, patting your shoulder as she passed.

“I kissed your mother before marriage,” your father’s comment, calmly but with a hint of mischievousness, made your mother shriek.

“Edward! Don’t tell her that!”

“What? We did.”

The knife in your hand parted the piece of apple into two.

“That’s not proper,” you pointed out, the ever present reminders of what was improper and sinful and what was not that you learnt from the farm, the words you had to repeat, had to know, even in the middle of the night. 

“It’s no sin,” your dad pointed out, “nothing wrong with a kiss or two.”

“Don’t kiss him if you don’t want to, darling girl,” your mother assured you, “besides, Philip would hardly ask you to do something like that.”

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“Kiss me?” Oh how you wished you still had the knife that you used to cut the apples, in the palm of your hand.

“Uhm, we really shouldn’t,” you pointed out, stepping back as he stepped forward, trying to keep some distance in between the two of you.

“C’mon baby, don’t be like that,” his hand shot out, grabbing your wrist. You tried twisting free instantly, fear overwhelming you as his smile slowly disappeared, his blue eyes seeming darker. You wanted to scream for help, but who would come to your rescue? You were almost halfway around the lake, away from most eyes, though it wouldn’t surprise you if there were some security cameras out here in the trees as well.

Before a loud enough sound could leave you, his hand was on your mouth and he was pushing you in between the bushes, up against a tree.

He touched you, like you had touched yourself that night in bed, thinking of Kate - but you weren’t crying out or fighting the pleasure now, instead it was the disgust that overwhelmed you, your lower half exposed as he had pulled your skirt up. Apparently he quickly grew bored of touching your cunt, unable to make you do anything but cry - but as he pulled out your cock, you truly panicked.

Hitting him in the chest, pulling his hand from your mouth. “nonononno, please -” “shut up-” “Phillip I can get pregnant-” He laughed, turning you so quickly you almost fell, pushing you against the tree, “Don’t worry baby, I’m not putting it in, just fucking your thighs–”

He did so, pressing your thighs together as you cried against the bark of the tree. As he grunted and moaned in your ear, you disappeared into your mind, back to the farm. Praying, bible reading, hard work, just like they had said, had filled your life for four years. Four terrible years, yet you would rather go back to the farm than this.

You wanted to feed the chickens and collect the eggs, you wanted to pet the sheep, making sure all of them returned in the evenings. You wanted to clean the wooden floors again, forced to do so while praying and singing hymns as a punishment for talking back. 

You felt dirty afterwards, unsure of what really had happened but there was cum on your thighs as he pushed down the skirt.

“Don’t tell anyone, no? You tempted me, after all,” he pointed out as he fixed his shirt a second time, grinning as you sniffled.

You shook your head. 

“Knew you were a smart girl, baby girl,” the words made you want to throw up and your eyes didn’t meet his, “Lemme get ya’ home.”

You didn’t tell your parents everything - and when your sister asked if you had kissed, you had shaken your head. Phillip is a good man, you had said, he will be a wonderful husband.

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A part of you wanted to leave the house and go directly to the priest, stare him in the eyes as you admitted that demons still hungered around your body, that you were still sick. That the homosexuality had never left your body, that only lies had dripped from your lips when you weren’t praying. Those four years had changed nothing but messed up your mind, not your sexuality.

Yet you refrained, instead going to the church early every day. Watching the church servant sleep, sitting on your pew, in the familiar spot, watching the altar. Wondering why God would do this to you. Why he would make you wrong in the eyes of the town, why he would send Phillip Graves to touch you against your will.

Almost every morning she would appear.

Sweet, beautiful Kate. Always kind and soft despite the world that surrounded the two of you. You dared to bring her a piece of cake at one point, one that you had baked yourself, loving how her face lit up at the sight. Basking in the praise she had given you in her whispers.

You would live, survive for those times with her in the church. Perhaps, that was why you didn’t admit to your sins, why you didn’t truly repent. Because, if they sent you away once more or locked you away inside a home, you wouldn’t be able to see Kate anymore.

Kate, who held your hand. Kate, who you dared to kiss on the cheek one morning two weeks later, as the church servant snored particularly loudly - who then framed your face with her wonderful hands and kissed you on the lips.

Every day that passed brought you closer to the day of the wedding, but also to Kate.

You didn’t need to ask to know that she was infected, just like you. That her organs were also rotten with sin, bones decaying from the want.

You dared to pull her to the bathroom of the church with you, listen to her whisper out oh God, taking the Lord’s name in vain as you ate her out, pride blossoming from it.

She came on your tongue, on your fingers. You came on hers too, on her thigh once. 

Panties soaked the entire service that followed, the prayers and sermon barely understood, constantly reminded of how she had looked as you rode her thigh, muttering praises into your ear as you kept it down, as not to draw any attention.

The forbidden fruit had never tasted better, but you knew that it too would rot, given how close the wedding was. 

You exchanged numbers but were too afraid to call or text, fearing being caught; you by your parents or by Phillip, her by her husband Shepherd.

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It wouldn’t last forever, that you knew, yet you had hoped it could. 

“What were you doing in the church with Mrs. Shepherd?” your dad asked one day at the dinner table, giving you no time to figure out an answer or to truly understand how he would know.

“Praying,” you lied, the words feeling so familiar by now, despite the ashy taste, “We don’t talk together. We just pray.”

Your father was staring at you, eyes cold, anger possibly boiling just beneath his skin.

“Wilson said he never saw you two.” You could strangle the bloody church servant and his snoring body.

“Lies,” you merely answered, “Mr. Wilson sleeps every day in the back of the church. His snoring echoes, disturbing my prayers.”

He didn’t look convinced. You wanted to scream at him, to mind his own bloody business. To not judge you, to accept you and love you, despite what they deemed flaws. 

“You can come with me yourself tomorrow - see how he sleeps in his chair, leant against the wall. Or hear it, I suppose - Mrs. Shepherd and I merely greet each other - nothing else.”

Somehow, the fact that you were willing to take him along - not really, but you wouldn’t mind proving your point, just to be able to continue your time with Kate - seemed good enough.

“Bloody always asleep, that man,” your father finally grumbled.

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There was a week until your wedding, the days having disappeared in between your fingers. You hadn’t been able to see Kate except during church service, not able to speak together or utter a word to each other - Shepherd's angry eyes would find you every time, staring you down. You did your best to ignore him, ignoring the judgment you were sure he had placed upon you and focused on the hymns. You tried worshiping the divine, in a desperate attempt to escape reality. 

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The dress felt too tight. Modest, barely showing anything but you hands and head, nothing like you had dreamt of when you were a kid, nothing like you had seen in a magazine that you found when you were 13, buried in a book in the little library of the town.

“You look beautiful,” your mother whispered, voice wet, having cried all day. You felt hollowed out, watching yourself in a white dress as if you were a lamb, sent to slaughter.

“It’s tight,” you muttered, the seamstress removing a pin or two but not enough. Perhaps it wasn’t the size but merely the fact you didn’t want it.

Four days, then there would be nothing improper about all the things Graves had whispered that he wanted to do with you. Then your moments with Kate, excused by the lies of prayers and hymns, would stop. Then you couldn’t forget the world with the slightly older woman, who would tell you of the world outside. Of parades for sinners like you, where you could be accepted and loved for who you were. Of art and music, of books and poetry, of politics  and of animals who weren’t kept merely for food.

It was simple, modest like everyone expected it to be. Long loose sleeves, ankle long skirt with white lace trim. Fake white flowers on the headband with the veil, pearls that Philip had gifted you for around your neck.

You had the feeling that your parents wanted to show you off, prove that they were good Christians who had raised a child that wasn’t lost. Who had been sick but was cured. The Graves family wanted to prove what great people they were, showing that you could be saved by the church even if Satan tried to claim you.

Philip wanted to show you off before he ruined you.

You cried then, when the seamstress said she would be ready with it in two days. Your mother took it for tears of joy and you lied once more, as you had for years, saying it was.

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“They’re saying she is becoming mad,” you heard them whisper, your body freezing, barely breathing as you tried listening. Your mother had people over for bible study but it was rarely actual studying.

“She was mad even before he got her,” one of the neighbors whispered, “told Shepherd didn’t I? Why would he take an outsider?”

“I heard Stacy say it was a favor for her parents —“

“She is probably going to the farm.”

You felt your mind spiral, almost dropping the basket of laundry, before you recognised your mother saying your name.

“- don’t want her to know. She is cured and healthy, but I don’t want her to think there is anybody sick in this town.”

“Might infect her again,” another neighbor pointed out, making you feel like you could barely breathe.

“God forbid,” your mother mumbled, “she is finally getting married. A baby or two will do her well.”

You abandoned the laundry basket in the hallway to find your phone. 

You had seen some of the better families in town had fancy phones, with touch screens and everything. When younger you might have been overcome with jealousy but by now, you just felt relieved you had a phone to contact Kate with, old as it was.

Women aren’t supposed to fall in love with other women, they had said the day your fate was sealed, damning you to years on the farm without your family, abandoned with animals and prayers, verses read to you about how wrong you were, you’re not supposed to lust after another woman.

Sure, you had been 19 and the fire inside of you had turned to embers - and Kate was older, wiser, but if she was sent to the farm, the two of you would surely never see each other again.

Your fingers felt numb as you wrote out the message, knowing you would be in trouble if anyone ever found out you had sent it.

>They’re going to send you to the farm

You waited for a reply, but it didn’t come immediately like you had hoped. 

Seconds turned to minutes and minutes turned to hours - all while you pretended everything was fine. You were with your family, listening to your mother pointing out everything they needed to get ready for your wedding. Your father talking about the money, your sister about dresses she could wear, about what hairstyles you should have.

In many ways Alice seemed more excited about your wedding than yourself. A part of you wondered if she ever found what it was about you that everyone declared an illness - or if she lived blissfully unaware of it. If she would marry for the sake of the family like you were forced to or if a young man from church would shyly appear on your doorstep and ask to court her.

If she wanted babies - while you didn’t. At least not with Philip. Not with any man. You just wanted Kate.

Kate, Kate. Your saint, your light in the dark, your guiding star in the evil that surrounded you.

Kate who had whispered that you had a choice but it wasn’t an easy one.

You knew she had been right then - and you knew she was right now.

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The air was cold as you crawled out the window, your small backpack strapped to your back, nails digging into the sill as you almost slipped. You managed to get a footing on the roof, slowly lowering yourself. There was a scent of rotting apples in the air, the last fruits rotting beneath the tree, while your organs flowered and grew stronger inside your body.

Because maybe you weren’t the rotten, sick one - possibly they were. And even if you were wrong, even if it was truly demons having possessed your mind and making you sin… then you would rather sin and rot together with Kate.

You wanted to live a life where you didn’t have to worry about what was wrong with you, every minute of the day - but one with Kate where you could sin in peace, perhaps in a town that didn’t hate you for the feelings you had for each other. You wanted a life without prayers, without the constant urge to seek forgiveness from a God that never showed you any love.

Or at the very least, you wanted a death with Kate. One where your rotten bodies could disappear together, melt into the ground and disappear, away from the people who had hated you for so long.

Despite the fear and the sweet, rotten scent of the apples, you felt the strongest you ever had as you crawled down the roof and jumped to the ground - even as you fell rather clumsily, making more noise than you had planned.

A window snapped open and you looked up, staring up at Alice. Neither of you spoke, merely staring up at her.

You wordlessly begged her, no, screamed at her to not tell, to not call out for your parents. Even in the vague light of the moon you could see her drown.

Young and confused, a good girl, who reminded you terribly of your mother. Whom you loved but didn’t trust - not anymore.

Finally, your sister moved her hands - quickly motioning for you to keep moving, not to come inside. You hoped she could see the thankful smile you sent her as you got up from the grass and moved towards the garden gate. Tomorrow they would find your letter on the pillow of your neatly done bed, written with your favorite pen, on heavy paper. On top of it, the engagement ring would rest, abandoned to be worn by somebody else who would have the misfortune of marrying Phillip Graves.

Your room would seem the same except for a few missing pieces. Pictures, phone, passport and the little money you had, would be gone. Pressed into that little backpack of yours, that was currently crossing the street, wary to not be seen by anyone.

There weren’t many words on the letter, you didn’t want to leave much behind, you didn’t want them to think you would forgive them.

You are the sick ones. I am sorry. Goodbye.

Your mother would cry in the morning, clutching the paper, while your sister would have laid there and expected it all night, knowing you had run away. Your father would perhaps be able to shed a tear. If not, you didn’t care. You wouldn’t be around to find out either way.

Guilt tried following you as you crossed another street, slipping in between houses to keep in the shadows, working your way towards the Shepherd’s house. Further than that you hadn’t planned but you couldn’t return now - you would rather try and fail, than to never have tried at all. The church loomed above you, letting you walk in the shadows of it, the bells not ringing and calling out your deed.

As if the church allowed you to pass, allowed you to continue your mission, whispering encouraging words for once instead of judgemental once. Blessing your decision to abandon everything, to abandon Christ, God.

You stopped outside of the Shepherd residence, your courage shaking for just a moment, unsure of how to get in - how to get in contact with Kate. By now your plans dried up, but you doubted you would ever have a possibility like this. Kate was worth the fear that burned inside you.

The door was locked - it shouldn’t come as a surprise, but it wasn’t uncommon to leave the door unlocked in your town, merely because you rarely dealt with crimes in that way- then it was outsiders who broke in. Checking several windows, doing your best to move silently around. However, you hadn’t learnt a lot from the last couple of years, other than taking care of animals, saying prayers, and singing hymns to cleanse your soul.

You found a half open window into what looked like a living room. You wished you could have crawled in discreetly, barely making a sound, like a ghost seeping into a new house to haunt.

Instead you fell onto a little table, which tipped over, a potted plant falling over, the pot shattering. The soil, barely visible in the dark, stained the floor with your fear.

However, silence still ruled the dark house, keeping you safe for now. For a moment, you wondered if there truly was a God who cared, just a little, for your broken soul.

That was until the lights turned on suddenly and the first thing you saw was a barrel pointed towards your head.

Herschel Shepherd had never seemed like a kind man to you, but a spiteful man, filled with greed and hatred. He was a respected man in the town, sure, and when he became a widower you were sure many of the other widowers dreamt of a marriage with him. He was rich, involved with the church and traveled with his company, that you didn’t even know what did. Especially after returning from the farm, seeing Kate next to him, never smiling despite having whom you considered a saint as a wife. The two of you had never talked about it but you suspected that he wasn’t a good husband. That perhaps he was open to the idea of sending away his wife, forcing her to manual labor in an isolated area for years in an attempt to control her even more.

You were willing to die for Kate, just so she shouldn’t see the room in which you had suffered. The painting of Jesus Christ who would be judging her day and night, the crucifix next to her bed, the never ending fields of loneliness, the constant repeating of the ashtasting verses and prayers, the dying hymns about love for a God that had never loved you.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” He snarled, not lowering the shotgun despite seeing it was only you, an unarmed member of the church.

Like a monster stepping out from a fairytale book, or a demon, ready to stop the noble Christian knight from his goal. You barely managed to speak before he did so again.

“Bloody roach,” he hissed, venom spitting from his mouth, “they should have abandoned you at the farm, let you stay mad and broken out there”

“Fuck you.” You were proud of how your voice barely shook as you blurted it out, how you got to your feet, staring at the only man in between the one you were ready to love forever.

“Shooting you will be—“ You hadn’t seen Kate come up behind him before the lamp collided with his head.

As blood splattered, you found yourself even more in love than before. Like embers filled up every bone in your body, your heart ringing its own church bells, declaring it true love. Perhaps you shouldn’t be turned on by her committing a violent act like that, yet it did, because Kate did it for you.

Kate was a savior, a knight in shining armor, even if she merely wore nightdress and a gown, her sword nothing but a wooden lamp that had blood stains on it now.

Her blue eyes staring down at the dragon that had kept her captive for years, in her own kind of hell - before your eyes finally met.

The lamp was abandoned on the floor next to Shepherd and you met halfway in the living room, embracing each other for only a short moment, before pressing your lips against each other’s.

Starved for the acceptance you had found in a woman in church, who you fell in love with, even when you knew it could end horrendously for the both of you.

Foreheads pressed against each other as you both breathed hard, fingers running over the other’s hair, face shoulders. As if to make sure it wasn’t a dream or hallucination, that you were actually both standing there in the room.

“You ok?” You whispered and her eyes flickered to the man on the floor before she answered, voice strong and steady, “yeah, better than I’ve been for years.”

You finally dared to look down at Sherpherd.

“Is he dead?” You asked, as if you only realized what she had done.

Sin sin sin sin sin sin

Killing was a sin. It was a big sin, or was one of the worst, it was— he was breathing, you realized. Chest moving up and down, even as blood from the wound from where the lamp had connected, sept into the carpet beneath him, staining it. Shotgun next to him. You could kill him. It would be an easy kill even, you would just have to take the gun, point it to his head and pull the —

“No - he will wake in a couple of hours with a headache,” Kate confirmed, hand then grabbing yours, “we can’t stay here, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. You liked that nickname.

“I know, I mean, I’m here to get you out-“ your words stumbled from your mouth as you followed her, only to be quieted down by a kiss. It was deeper than before even if it wasn’t long, a small whine escaping you as she pulled away again once more.

It was water after thirst, it was sun warming your skin after freezing in the snow. 

“My hero,” she whispered, touching your cheek, her blue eyes watering just a little, even as she clearly tried keeping them back, continuing,“and I know where the car keys are.”

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Leaving the town felt wrong on so many levels. By escaping its clutches, painful and sharp, you also abandoned what you considered your home and the safety of the church. The community it had given you throughout the years, the promises of a better afterlife, without eternal suffering.

You wanted to throw up, beg her to stop the car, fear crawling inside your throat and filling your lungs, making sobs escape as you shook. You wanted to run back, let Kate escape.

She kept driving, constantly looking over at you, as you curled together in the passenger seat next to her; she touched your shoulder, held your hand, petted your hair. Whispering sweet words, that weren’t prayers, that weren’t promises of a God who would look over the two of you. But of how the two of you would be alright, how you would figure things out.

How she could get you out of the country, how the two of you could start somewhere new, somewhere safe.

Create your own paradise. Together. 

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

The two of you didn’t stop driving for hours - only stopping at a gas station to get more gas and some food. If the two of you looked weird, you in an oddly modest long blue dress, soil on it, with red and puffy eyes, Kate in a morning gown pulled tight around her waist, well then the cashier was nice enough to keep his mouth shut.

You watched the world pass by, watched nature change, the endless fields, the cows, different kinds of cars you had never seen before began to pass.

It was at the second stop at a gas station that you dared to stop for good. Car pulled to the side, Kate’s hand shaking as she took your phone and pressed a number. Then she waited, your hand holding her free hand.

The two of you sat in the backseat of the fancy car that Shepherd always rode. Hours had passed since you abandoned the town, the church, your family, your God, everything. You wondered if they had found your letter by now, if they were trying to call your phone, only to realize you had blocked them.

You wondered who they would blame; the two of you or God.

“Price,” you heard a gruff voice say.

“John,” Kate could barely say the name, voice almost trembling and you wanted to hold her tight, crawl into her lap and embrace her into a hug she couldn’t escape. 

“Kate?” The sound of disbelief, as if he had never expected to hear her voice again; as if she had been considered dead, had risen again. You were pretty sure you could hear a British accent to his voice, one you had only heard in movies, “Is that really you?”

“It is - I, John – fuck - we need you and the boys’ help. If your offer still stands.”

“Always Kate,” the certainty in his voice made you want to cry, “no matter where you are.”

—--

You abandoned the car in a random town and took a bus to the next town over, that would be close to where they would pick you up, Kate explained.

That night you slept in a motel together, close, breathing in each other’s air. Kissing each other, watching the other’s chest, just to make sure the other was alive. You listened to her heart before falling asleep, your head resting on her chest. A part of you wished that you could crawl inside her ribcage, in an attempt to get closer to her heart, to make sure she would never stop living

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

You had never seen an actual helicopter this close. Once one had passed over the farm, but that was years ago and it had barely been visible. You stood next to her, your fingers intertwined with Kate’s, just like you wanted your ribs to be. You weren’t necessarily proud of how you hid halfways behind her, but she seemed so calm around the machine - which meant she had probably been around some before. Both of your clothes were moving wildly due to the air from the wings, the grass laying down as if it was a divine figure who appeared from the sky, to offer you a way to safety.

You wanted to kiss her, as you had the night before in the motel, not caring if the sins would swallow you whole, drag you to hell and let you burn for all eternity. You would eat all forbidden fruits, if it meant another minute with her - no matter how scared you were of the world outside.

No matter how much the sight of five men stepping out from the helicopter, with the engine slowly stopping, walking towards you scared you, you stayed right there with Kate. The men who stepped out seemed like divine symbols of sins, of fallen angels, ready to welcome you into the damned eternity. No verses or prayers could save you now.

One of the angels wore a skull mask, a clear representation of death and while you trusted Kate with your life, wanted to trust these men too, since she said they were close friends, you wondered what life she had lived before coming to the town, before becoming Shepherd's wife.

Before meeting you.

She let go of your hand when they got close and you almost wanted to cry, wanted to beg her not to abandon you. But then she stepped forward to embrace the man who reached them first. He wore some sort of hat you hadn’t seen before, an oddly shaped beard too – a military uniform of some sort, they all did. 

“Kate,” he said, before embracing her hard and you watched how his fingers fisted in the night gown, as if afraid she would disappear in front of you. Then his eyes found yours; while you had escaped some sort of anger, some sort of judgment or perhaps a facial expression that proved that you shouldn’t trust it, there was none. Instead his eyes and face softened at the sight of you, not looking away until he and Kate broke the embrace, his eyes almost seeming shiny as he held her face in his hands, saying it was good to see her again. Then he turned to you, while Kate turned to the next man, greeting somebody called Nikolai, who twirled her around, but you were busy fearing the other man.

He offered you his hand, movement slow, as if he could see that you were like a skittish deer, ready to bolt at the sign of any danger.

“I’m John Price,” he said as he gently shook your hand, “An old military friend of Kate.”

You told him your name, even as it tasted a little foreign on your tongue, like you had to admit who you were, to a stranger for the first time. An outsider.

“I’m…”

What were you? Somebody who had fallen in love the moment you saw Kate, who had spent years being told you were wrong, who was supposed to be married today but who had instead run off with the woman that made your heart beat.

“My girlfriend,” Kate said, “She is my girlfriend.”

Warmth enveloped your entire body and Price didn’t look upset instead he smiled. Looking happy for you, for Kate, a reaction so alien to you that you barely believed it.

The others introduced themselves. Nikolai - who also spun you around, saying you were already loved by him, much to your confusion - then the demon-looking man who introduced himself as Simon or Ghost, as if you could decide what kind of danger you wanted him to be. Then Kyle - or Gaz - who thanked you for taking care of Kate, even if he knew nothing about what happened, why the hell Kate Laswell was out in the middle of a field, wearing only a night dress and gown, why a messy looking woman in a long dressed stood next to her, looking like she was ready to run. Then Soap - or Johnny, he had added with a grin, who said he didn’t know Kate, but that his team trusted her, so he did too - as well as you. But during the whole thing, your thoughts rummaged around the word girlfriend.

You were Kate’s girlfriend. She took your hand afterwards and you smiled at her, as if you saw her for the first time once more, hoping to wordlessly tell her how much you loved her, even if you didn’t dare to whisper the words out loud.

You curled up next to her in the helicopter, afraid of the sounds, the feeling of flying, of everything. She kept her arm around you, offering you safety once more, from the overwhelming world you had never been in before.

“What the ‘ell happened, Kate?” Simon or the grim reaper looking man asked, an accent that you suspected to be some kind of British, voice rough through the microphone. You didn’t look at Kate, weren’t sure how she would even explain this. You weren’t even sure how to explain it. It had been your entire life after all.

“It’s a long story,” Kate said, giving your shoulder a squeeze, “I’ll tell you later. When we’re safe somewhere.”

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

The UK was gray most of the time, but you didn’t really care, had grown accustomed to it as time passed.

Kate was still the light of your life. She was often busy, but you didn’t mind, knowing her burning passion for her work. You worked in a library a couple of hours a week, even if she had enough money to let you do whatever you wanted and never work another hour of your life. You went to therapy, a lot in the beginning but less and less as the years passed and you got better.

You were slowly forgetting the words of the hymns you had grown up with, and the verses forced upon you. It had taken years, but you felt like a good person. Not a sick, sinful one, even though the urge to repent made its ugly return once and again - it was easier to dismiss now, easier to talk about.

Reborn into a human being who made her own choices. Who could love who she wanted.

You had brought a house in the suburbs, big enough that you were able to have some chickens in the garden and two cats. They kept you company and kept you busy, the chickens following you around the garden, the cats sleeping in your laps and on you stomach whenever Kate was at work.

You were forever grateful for Kate’s friends, who helped you assimilate to the world, to Britain, their partners' close friends too by now. You liked looking after John’s and Kyle’s son, Johnny’s, Simon’s and their girlfriend’s dogs. Like drinking coffee or eating together with their partners or family members - you had managed to get friends through the library, who introduced you to so much literature and media that you had never even dreamt of existed.

Though, it was always Kate who brought you the most joy. You had married her, a year after you escaped together, which was a little over a decade ago. It wasn’t anything like what was planned up to the wedding you were supposed to have had with Phillip. A marriage that apparently wouldn’t even be official and recognised by the government, since the town wouldn’t tell anyone about it. Kate’s marriage wasn’t even valid, so nothing stopped the two of you from marrying.

It was nothing wild, no church, nothing you had to live up to. Your rings were simple, so were your clothes. It was at town hall, it was small and simple, John, Simon, Johnny and Kyle your witnesses - their partners, more of Kate’s friends and the few others you had met outside, ready to celebrate you. It reminded you more of a birthday party or barbeque, something like that, nothing formal. Casual clothes, food made on the grill and in the kitchen, eaten in the garden. Games played, alcohol drunk, music that you never listened to before playing softly. It was happy, simple, with Kate kissing your hand and pulling you away to kiss your lips, making you whine happily.

You finally felt happy, cured. Not from the love you had for Kate, but from the hatred and pain that had been forced on you all of your life. A life that you were ready to spend with Kate.

[strayrumia]

Road to Relationship (Ch. 1)

lee know x fem!reader

Synopsis: [Y/N] and Minho have been best friends since childhood. The two have never talked about the possibility of a romantic relationship between them, but then again, why risk losing a friendship? As they continue their college years, [Y/N] starts to take interests in the guys around her. Unbeknownst to [Y/n], her best friend may actually take that risk the more she goes after guys who don't really deserve her. - or - [Y/N] starts to crush on other guys, but Minho doesn't like the idea of other guys being beside her romantically but him.

Follow these best friends as they navigate their feelings for one another!

Genre(s): fluff, best friends to lovers, angst, love triangles Other tags: jealous/possessive minho, bts side story, fake texts au, semi-social media au + written Content Warning(s): swearing, suggestive themes, mention(s) of forgetting to eat/take care of yourself will be updated every chapter! This Chapter in specific has: swearing, mention(s) of forgetting to eat, mention(s) of fear of rejection/losing a friendship

After you've finished texting your best friend, you looked up at the lecture before you. You were taking a communication class, more specifically, a debate class, so that it would help prepare you to see the other side of arguments as well as be able to defend your own stance. If you were honest, as much as you did have some interest taking the class, you were mostly taking it due to it being the most interesting undergraduate general education course in one of the required catalogs. The professor was teaching something you were familiar with due to reading the previously assigned texts, so it allowed you some time to divert your attention.

You glanced over at your side where you watched your classmate crush listen to the lecture intently and take down some notes.

Jeon Jungkook was his name. The same handsome man who happened to be in the same classes as you in the previous semester and now sits beside you out of comfort and familiarity. You didn't know much about him other than Minho's mention of being part of the same dance club as him on-campus and that he was well-versed in many things, judging by his stickers on his laptop.

It had to be a sign if he's in your class again. There's no way he would be in the same class - if you recall, he's not the same major as you! After the last situationship you've put yourself into, you made a mental note to yourself to never let yourself beg for a man's attention or love ever again. That doesn't stop your crushing or attempts to get closer to the attractive being beside you.

"Alright, class. I'll give you all a few minutes to find yourself someone to work with for this assignment."

You quickly looked up at the instructions on the projector screen.

PRACTICE: Work in a pair and find a topic you both want to debate about. You will have 2 rounds with 1 minute each to try and convince the other to join your side. If you concede, then you lose.

The timing has been so perfect.

"Hey, [Y/N], was it?" Jungkook's low voice startled you, prompting you to turn your head to his direction immediately. You tried your best to calm any nerves rising and took a quick breath.

"Yes! Jungkook, right?"

"Yeah, that's me," he grinned in return, the bunny-like smile sending butterflies in your stomach. There was something about his smile that sent your heart racing yet you couldn't quite put a finger on it. He was just so cute! "I remember we had a couple classes before. Honestly I don't know anyone else in this class... would you mind being my partner for this practice?"

You were prepared for being the one to initiate, so his words took you aback. Regardless, you tried to shake the feelings off and returned his smile. "I don't mind at all!"

"Great! Well, I don't want to take all the ideas - do you have a topic in mind you want to argue about?" Jungkook asked.

"Uh..." You were left speechless. You internally panicked before you started overhearing a conversation by your peers nearby. They were throwing ideas about romance and dating, especially during this time. They seemed to develop a topic of dating people they knew versus dating people through apps. Their conversation gave you an idea. "How about the idea of dating?"

"Huh?" Shoot. Was that suspicious of you to suddenly bring up? His surprised reaction made you not only confused, but surprised before you started to panic yet again.

"Wh-what I mean is...! Dating is an interesting topic nowadays, y'know... going for strangers online on apps or going for the people you start to get acquainted with in-person... it's a very interesting debate to have!" You tried to explain, trying to fight the nervous blush creeping onto your cheeks. The more you tried to defend the idea, the more you started to ramble and felt your ears go red. Luckily for you, Jungkook seemed more interested and acknowledged your words.

"Ah, I see... you make a great point. I think I like the idea of discussing romance as a topic. What about the idea of possibly dating an acquaintance versus dating someone, like say, your best friend?" Jungkook suggested. The idea struck onto your mind and got you intrigued in return. You approved the idea but before you two can discuss which side to take, the professor silenced the class and began to call for volunteers to take the stand.

You thought long and hard about the idea. Dating an acquaintance to you is dating someone you're pretty much strangers with. You can still build that relationship, get to know each other, and eventually learn whether or not you would be a perfect match. It wouldn't be too bad, right?

Dating your best friend, however, was a different topic. You immediately thought about Minho when Jungkook brought up the idea. You tried to think about the possibility of having a romantic relationship with him but only certain flashbacks came up.

"[Y/N], don't tell me you forgot to eat again! Ugh, how many times do I have to tell you to take care of yourself?!"

"Haha, I still can't believe you fell trying to race me! ...What do you mean, [Y/N]? Yes, it was funny!! Don't worry, I'll patch you up, I'm done laughing!"

"You're going to adopt a cat?! [Y/N], you ARE a cat! ...But I'll support you through it, as long as you take care of yourself and the little one."

You blinked a couple times reminiscing before you shook your head at the memories. You couldn't even fathom a romantic relationship with your best friend when all he does is scold and nag you while making fun of you at the same time. How is any of that romantic anyway? It wouldn't be like him nor would you be able to believe him to be a romantic in the first place. Nope, there's no way you could see yourself in a relationship with him.

You were pulled from your thought process when you heard your professor call Jungkook's name. Jungkook had volunteered to go up and mentioned you being his partner, forcing you to stand in front of the class with him.

"I can't imagine dating my best friend..." You muttered under your breath, but it does not go unnoticed. Jungkook patted your shoulder and gave you a reassuring smile.

"Don't worry, I'll take that argument if it makes it easier for you."

What a kind guy! You thought to yourself as you silently praised him for taking initiative.

Your professor reset the timer on the projector screen, prompting you both to take a deep breath to start. "Timer starts... now! [Y/N], your side first."

You exhaled and looked at Jungkook in his brown eyes. "Dating an acquaintance is better in all levels. The acquaintance being a close friend is entirely up to you and your comfortability. You can get to know them more and prevent yourself from any possible heartbreak with the idea of losing a friend if things don't work out."

Jungkook gave you a challenging grin in return as he started. "Dating your best friend would lessen the heartbreak. You'd be with someone you've known your whole life, the one who knows you well enough that they wouldn't betray your trust. You would never have a dark moment with them because not only will you have your eternal partner, but your best friend in one."

You fought the temptation to frown and defended your stance. "What's the point in risking a relationship with someone you care so much about? If things don't work out, you will subject yourself to losing a best friend, your other half almost. It's better to go for someone who's essentially a stranger to you so it can be up to your judgment of whether they're trustworthy or partner-material or not."

"Oh, but you mentioned that your best friend is essentially your other half. The idea is still likely, is it not? Then the only things you're worried about are the fears of losing your close friend due to romantic interest and rejection." Your grin faltered ever so slightly at the surprising claim, but Jungkook continued. "If they're single and they're willing to pursue that relationship with you, then why not go for it, unless you're unwilling? If you two respect each other enough and your platonic relationship is more than that, then a little romance shouldn't break that."

Any attempt of countering was put to a halt. 'Damn, he's good...' you thought to yourself as the professor's two minute timer went off. You both went back to your seats as the professor continued the lecture following your activity. You mindlessly took notes of his lecture as you let Jungkook's defense get to your head. You were in disbelief that he was able to defend his stance so well, let alone it feeling like he was calling you out.

You shook off the idea of ever pursuing a relationship with Minho, but you were content with your relationship as it is. You didn't think it needed to be anything more, nor did it seem like Minho was interested in you that way. No, he definitely doesn't seem like it. With how much he would scold you and nag you, he was taking more of a motherly role towards you than anything else.

You looked at Jungkook through your peripheral vision, where you noticed he'd glance a few times at your direction while taking his own notes. You didn't think much of it. After all, all you could think about was either he has his own experience with relationships with a close friend or that he's just that damn good at debates.

Once the professor ended the lecture, you started to put your things away into your backpack when a familiar voice called your name.

"I'm sorry if I accused you of something there, [Y/N]. If I hurt your feelings in any way, I didn't mean to." Jungkook said, his bag hanging off one shoulder as he apologetically scratched the back of his head.

"N-no, you didn't hurt me at all! You're actually really good at debates! I have no doubt you'll ace this class with flying colors." You felt guilty at the possibility that your reaction made him overthink his words, but it also made you feel good to see that he cared about his actions if it did affect you. He truly is a kind person.

"You think so? Thank you, I'm glad to hear it!" his smile returned, never failing to send your heart leaping for joy at the sight. "I'm especially glad to hear it now that we'll be working together for the next project."

'Huh?' Oh, that's right. You recall that towards the end of the lecture, the professor mentioned that we'll be working with that same partner for the next project. You'll be either revisiting the same topic you've debated against for the class activity or decide on a different one. Either way, you'll have a longer timer of ten minutes to make sure you're able to debate against the other side. As each day passes by, you'll have to send written reports and updates of how your side of the speech is going while working with your partner to make sure you touch base on both sides. This meant...

"I guess we should exchange contact information so that we can keep each other accountable with our respective updates, huh?" you said, hoping any ounce of your excitement and nervousness was not apparent in your voice.

"Yeah, if you don't mind!"

With that, you both exchanged phone numbers and said your goodbyes as Jungkook walked away with his friend, who was waiting outside the door for him. As soon as he disappeared from sight, you immediately pulled out your personal messages with Minho.

To be continued...

Prologue | Chapter 1 (You are Here) | Chapter 2 ->

Profiles | RtR Masterlist

TAGLIST (OPEN): nappynapnaps

[dotster001]

After reading the accidentally called NRC staff member “dad”, imagine the unholy shock when Neige is asking to date mc/yuu

A/N:Gotcha! As with many requests, I went from 0 ideas to three million over night 😂 can never win. It's also very important to me that you know that I had to pause editing this to pet my cat 😍

This is literally the best possible outcome, in his mind. The only person who'd be worthy of you at NRC is Vil, but you can't date him, that's incest! (A poor lovesick Vil has tried to remind him time and again that you are not related, and Divus is neither of your dad. He got sent to his room for that) So Neige LeBlanch, a model, an actor, an RSA student, a man of culture….you could not have chosen better, puppy!

That said…he'll be keeping a close eye on Neige. If there's anything that needs retrained, Crewel will not hesitate to put that pup in his place! But he doubts that will be an issue…😒

Are you serious? This scrawny little prince boy is supposed to protect your fragile magic-less form? No fucking way!!!

Vargas training camp is back in session! He has to make sure that Neige is worthy! It'll only be you, him, and Neige, out in the middle of the forest. Either Niege will prove himself to be strong enough to protect you from overblots and evil mages, or you will see what a wimpy loser he is! Ah, he's really too clever, isn't he? 😁

No matter how many times you tell him you can take care of yourself, and that Neige is actually top of his class at RSA, and is well versed in combat skills from his time as an actor, Vargas is never gonna hear it. All he hears is "blah blah bleh blah". Truly, you picked the highest maintenance man to be your dad.

Neige is loaded! YOU'RE RICH!!!!

He's eagerly ceasing negotiations with the mysterious guardian of Malleus Draconia, and going on and on about how wonderful this is, and how he raised a perfect little chick! Meanwhile you and Neige are awkwardly sitting in the chairs on the other side of his desk wondering if you should still be listening to this…

He's another one you'll have to remind that he didn't raise you. You just kind of got swept up under his wing! Almost literally! Neige doesn't have to buy him gifts. Niege doesn't have to ask his permission to remove you from the nest, which, by the way, you were forced to live in! You don't have to tell him what you and Neige are going to do today!

Then again…every time you remind him of those things he starts sobbing. And Neige is too sweet, and completely falls for the crocodile tears…so really it's up to you how you handle this.

He is totally fine with you dating. 😊

As far as you will ever know, that is.

He is a man with means, who can afford a quick background check on Neige LeBlanch. It's not a personal thing, it's just he has spent so much time teaching the men at NRC, that he forgets there are non problematic men in existence. 

But once the background check comes back squeaky clean, he's 100% supportive! 

You: Do you want to stay for dinner?

Trein: Do you want to stay forever?

As I said in the post this was requested from, Sam is probably the chillest of the "dads". He is so chill about you dating Neige! So so chill!

He's chill about it…but his friends have seen a lot of bad people in their time.

Neige doesn't want to freak you out, but he definitely feels like something has been following him recently…his bodyguards don't see anything though, so it must be in his head. Ah well, no use worrying you over nothing.

....

Tag list- @shytastemakerthing @eccedentesiast-sapphic @leoll