#i might need to go back to church for the first time in 10 years after this one

[fabbyf1]

OMG LESTAPPEN + LANDOSCAR I WILL SUFFOCATE AND DIE

YEAH SAME!!!!!!!!!!!!

my original idea for the lando™ fic has.... taken a turn.

[babybluebex]

anyway you could please write more Dominic/ angus fics either just domestic life, or pregnant read?

ok i talked a lot ab domestic dom, but domestic angus... 👀

first of all, let's paint a picture: you meet him at college, it's very meet-cute while in your undergrad at harvard university, you're both studying in the library and need to use the same big dusty textbook at the same time so you sit next to each other and share it, but it's not a lot of studying a lot more whispered conversations and flirting, and he walks you back to your dorm and as he watches you go inside, he thinks, for the first time in his life, how much he would like to have a life with you, like sure he's been horny before and has had crushes, but never anything like that

anyway fast forward, you're both graduated and in your post-grad programs, and you've been dating for like 5 years at this point?? angus got close to proposing to you when you both graduated but decided not to do that bc he didn't want to be the reason that you decided not to pursue grad school, so he's kept that to himself (but fully has a ring and is just waiting for what he thinks is the right time)

WELL you discover one day in march that you think?? you might be?? pregnant?? and obviously you and angus had talked about kids before, you've been dating for 5 years, of course you've talked about it, so you know that angus is riding the dr. spencer reid train, ab how he's worried that he has his father's sickness and how he doesn't want to pass it down to any potential kids and how he thinks he'll ultimately be a bad father bc look at the material he has to work with yknow

but you tell him that you're going to the doctor to see but you're like "it's possible that i'm just late on my period, the stress of startin g my masters program yknow, but i'm keeping you updated just in case" but he's like "can i come with you?" and you tell him it's a little useless bc you're certain you're just late like "i know what's gonna happen, i'm going to the doctor's tomorrow morning, and then tomorrow night my period will come, and i'll have been paranoid for nothing" but he's like "nah if there's a chance, i'm gonna be there"

and. whoops. but you've been so careful! you don't know how this happened! but angus is immediately very excited, and you talk it over that night at dinner and you're like "i do want a baby... i just.. i dunno, i thought we'd be married and shit by the time we had a baby..." and angus instantly gets up from the table and goes and gets the ring he has, and he's like "here :) we can get married before the baby gets here :) if you'd like that :)"

and of course you do, and you ask him like "how long have you had that???" and he's all pinky and shy like "... a while..." and you DO chalk your crying up to pregnancy hormones, but angus slips the ring onto your hand and he can't stop cheesing all night

and the next 10 months fly by in a snap, you tell all your friends and family that you're engaged and pregnant, and of course angus's mom and stepdad want to make a big deal out of it, like want a big traditional church wedding and shit, but like that's not you?? and you're not gonna compromise with your mother in law like you refuse to, and especially when your tummy starts to swell and press against your jeans, you don't want to try to pretend that you're anything but you, no matter how badly judy clotfeltter wants you to be some perfect sweet little wife to her son

you end up marrying angus right around halloween time, a cold breeze chills your spine and angus holds your hand as you go up the steps to city hall, one of your friends from university is your legal witness, and your marriage is finalized with the pen leaking a lil on your fingers so the polaroid your friend snaps has you with a smudge of black ink on your cheek that you had no idea about until angus wipes it off with his thumb

and angus oh my god, he is RELISHING in being a husband and a father-to-be, he never ever thought he' d be the domestic type but he finds such peace in the promise that you're there for him no matter what, doesn't matter if his doctoral advisor told him that he has to push back his research deadline or if his mother had called and mentioned something about his father, he knows for a fact that you'll be on the couch when he gets home, surely listening to the new linda ronstadt record and singing to your belly, and that he can come lay his head in your lap and you'll brush out his curls and kiss his ear and listen to him bitch and moan and get everything out of his system

and every night before bed, after your shower, he insists on (and gets a little pouty if you deny him) rubbing cocoa butter into your tummy and kissing your stretch marks and listening to you bitch and moan about how your back hurts and you feel your heartburn in your toes and how you hate hate HATE the way your body doesn't even look like yours anymore, and when you get teary and whimper out how you're so nervous and scared about everything, angus is so good to you, he holds you and wipes up your tears and holds your face and assures you that any kid who get to you call his mom is like winning the lottery here bc "baby, you are so kind and smart and funny, and god you're a knockout, fuckin the best woman to ever walk the earth, i know it, and baby won't have a choice but to love you and appreciate the fuck outta you"

and you nest like a motherfucker even though you don't know the baby's sex, you agonize over what color to paint the walls of the nursery (which was angus's office previously, but he donated most of his old textbooks that were just taking up space, although he DID keep the like 6 year old copy of aurelius' meditations for some reason, even tho he's like never even opened it) and finally angus helps you decide on a nice light green, soft to the eyes, but he will not let you do any of the painting or even be in the room bc "paint fumes, mrs tully, bad for you and bad for baby!"

eventually, christmas comes and goes, and new years too, and you're so pregnant that you feel like a fucking blimp, and baby will not stop kicking your ribs omg, but angus adores pressing his palm to your stomach and feeling baby kick his hand, his eyes glitter and he smiles all lopsided "holy shit..."

and then one night you're grading papers (since part of your masters' program requires you to TA for at least one semester, so might as well do the spring term before baby arrives) when there's a tight cramp low in your belly and suddenly your seat and sweatpants are soaked, and you're like "umm??!!"

and angus is out with some friends that night, first time in a WHILE that he gets to hang out so OF COURSE baby decides it's his time to shine, and you phone the bar angus told you they'd be at, and you ask the bartender to ask for angus, and he comes to the phone pretty quick "hey, what's up?" he asks all casual-like

"angus i either just pissed myself right now or my water just broke"

he tells you to stay right where you are and he'll come get you, and you like?? don't know what to do with yourself?? so you change clothes out of your damp pants and get the bag that angus had meticulously packed in prep for this exact moment, a onesie for baby and shit like that

and angus wants so badly to be in the delivery room but he's like Not A Fan of it, he loves you and every part of you, as well as every part of his baby, but the sight of all of it makes his stomach turn, so he stands upwind by your head and focuses all on your face, wiping up the sweat that dots your hairline and trying to keep you calm

all things considered, it happens quick as fuck, you get to the hospital around 10pm , and by 4am your baby is earth-side, and the relief that washes over you when you hear their tiny little screaming is all warm in your chest, and you let your head fall back and you laugh a little "jesus christ..." and angus kisses your face and pushes your hair out of your eyes "oh my fucking god, baby... we've got a baby"

and when you see them for the very first time, all cleaned up, your eyes water up at the little pink hat they put on her fuzzy head— you had never learned the sex on purpose, and your little daughter is all rosy and small and she's here, she's real and here, and you had never understood what people meant when they said that instincts kick in until the nurse puts her on your chest, and your arms come and cuddle her and gently rub her back, and you softly shush her whines and she settles down in an instant

"hi pretty girl" you whisper because she is the most beautiful thing you've ever seen, and you see the little bump on the bridge of her nose, and you look up to see the same nose on her father, and you can't help but cry

and seeing angus holding her for the first time, his big hands dwarf her tiny little 6 and a half pound body, and he's looking at her like she's a space alien like "holy shit... our daughter... she smells really good... like, warm milk or somethin..."

and getting little miss violet tully home, and angus hangs out in her nursery and watches her sleep, and there's a couple times in those first few weeks where you're like "ang... you have a meeting on campus in an hour..." and he's just heart-eyes at violet like "but i just wanna watch her forever!"

her hair starts to come in, brassy but dark, just like angus's baby hair, and her blue newborn eyes pretty quickly darken down to a dark hazel-y brown, and you're talking to some friends of yours like "i carry her for close to a year, and she ends up looking nothing like me and everything like her father"

but in the morning, when angus gets violet up from her crib and brings her into the bedroom to wake you up and cuddle, with your husband's cheek on your shoulder and your daughter cooing on your chest, everything seems so right

[drdemonprince]

Hello Dr. Price I've really appreciated and been informed by a lot of your writing over the past couple years, and I wanted to contribute here: I've dealt with very serious depressive episodes and persistent suicidal ideation for a very long time. My first attempt was when I was 10 and I survived largely by chance. I've attempted a few more times since mostly in my late teens. Now, as a young adult, after transitioning, estranging myself from my parents, and cutting ties with the Church, I've found a way toward a certain kind of peace.

When I did have people around me or speaking to me during very serious suicidal episodes the things that *did* help often came from people who had been in similar circumstances themselves and could guess at my concerns. Overall, I found one of the most important things to assure a suicidal person of is that you are not afraid of their feelings. If one is sincerely trying to offer substantive help, demonstrating that one is not going to balk at mentions or evidence of self-harm, or in similar fashion "other" the sufferer for the things they are experiencing is paramount. There is a powerful shame that often accompanies suicidal thoughts, and being met with a response of disgust or horror will make the sufferer feel that they will cause harm to other people (often people they care about) by being honest about what they are experiencing. Meanwhile the harm to others caused by their suicide might be harder for the sufferer to understand or call to mind in the moment.

Beyond that, I think the most useful thing one can do in that circumstance is to simply provide companionship, to let the sufferer know implicitly that they are not alone and they are not being abandoned by the world. Sitting with them, providing them something to do alongside another person, and not placing pressure on them to be articulate or justify their feelings but to simply keep being a while longer. Death can, and will, wait. It will be there in an hour. It will be there tomorrow. It will be there in a week. It will be there in a year. It will be there in ten years. Suicide is, incontrovertibly, an option. It is not an urgent one. In my own darkest moments on the railing of a parking garage, what stopped me was deciding to come back the next night. I was on top of that parking garage every night for a week and a half. Eventually, I didn't feel the need to climb those stairs again. The goal, in that moment, is not to convince someone life is worth living. It is to convince them to wait. In waiting, they may see another way

This is brilliant thank you.

[aziraphales-library]

Hii!! I want to thank you guys for recommending and going thru the work to "provide"?

Anyways thank you so so much for helping

Do you have any fics about Crowley getting a dangerous job or smth (like a spy or bodyguard etc)?

I would amuch do appreciate it if Aziraphale could be in it too someway. Also I don't really mind if it's a human pov or not.

Sorry for such a long message, bye bye! <3

Hello! Here are some fics in which Crowley has a dangerous job...

fell in love with the fire long ago by midnightdragons (T)

The EMT was a handsome older bloke, with soft, curly blonde-white hair and warm blue eyes that were soft and crinkled at the edges. His cheeks were round and flushed with red, and he looked rather frazzled, but in a way that somehow looked so utterly gorgeous. White gloves were pulled tightly over his hands, contrasting the dark color of his uniform, and spectacles balanced on his nose, slightly fogged from the smoke nearby, though they were, for the most part, out of range from the smoldering church. “Hi.” Crowley, who was caked in grime and smoke and debris and who was wearing a dirty, unwashed firefighter’s suit and who was barely able to speak in a voice louder than a raspy, hoarse croak, thought that perhaps he had died and gone to Heaven. Would’ve believed it, too, with this angel before him, if the adrenaline wasn’t starting to wear off, giving way to dull, throbbing pain in his skull. “M’Crowley,” he introduced himself, rather stupidly. “Anthony Crowley.”

Crowley is a firefighter; Aziraphale is an EMT. A First Responders Human AU one-shot of their 'first' (whumpy but fluffy) meeting, inspired by artwork (link in A/N & artwork included)!

A Walk on the Wild Side by Sani86 (M)

Crowley has been working as a game ranger at Engadini Game Reserve for... well, more years than he cares to count. A new manager threatens to upset everything with his plans to turn Engadini into a prime eco-tourism destination. But the new chef he appointed for the lodge might just make it all worth while. Meanwhile, Aziraphale - the new chef in question - can't stop staring at the lanky red-headed game ranger who moves like a snake. Unfortunately, romantic entanglements of any kind are strictly against the rules, and could cost them both their jobs. How long can they fight the undeniable attraction between them?

This Way For Up by brutumfulmen (M)

Called onto the scene of a cave exploration accident, Crowley struggles against increasingly grim odds to save a young scout trapped deep underground. All while keeping everyone, from a nervous troop leader to Crowley himself, calm in the meantime.

For His Eyes Only by AFrenchFanWriter (M)

Anthony J. Crowley has been an MI6 spy for 10 years, completing successful mission after successful mission under the guidance of his quartermaster, Aziraphale Fell. But this life is starting to take its toll on him as he is getting older; and when, one day, his past comes back to haunt him, Crowley realizes that it might be time for him to hang up his gun and face all the things he has left unaddressed… (Yep, it is basically a James Bond/Q AU!)

The Infernal Bodyguard by Santillatron (M)

Alistair Zira Fell is a popular author. Loved by everyone he meets. Well, almost everyone. Someone is trying to hurt him, and right now, he needs a bodyguard. Anthony J. Crowley is the best, although he doesn't work with celebrities. He has three rules. He never gets too close, never stays once the job is done, and Never Gets Involved. But this isn't a thriller. This, is a love story.

The False and the Fair by Princip1914 (E)

Growing up in the shadow of West Virginia’s Eden Mountain, Aziraphale Wright always expected to work for the family coal mining company. Anthony Crowley, the son of a down-and-out miner, was going to become a pilot and leave town forever. Now, thirty years later, neither of their lives have gone as planned, and an unexpected inheritance brings them back into one another’s orbit. Aziraphale hopes that they can move beyond their shared past, and a high school arrangement that ended in disaster, but he has secrets of his own that threaten their fragile reconnection…

- Mod D

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Am i the asshole for responding in distress and upset after my best friend of six years cut me off??

Now, i know this sounds really cut and dry to begin with, but i promise it’s way more than just the title. That’s why I’m reaching out in confusion here.

About three weeks ago, my best friend of six years asked if i was free in the evening. It’s important to note that at this time there had been no communicated issues between us, I legitimately thought everything was fine. I try to be a very communicative person, so i talk about issues when they come up, and encourage them to do the same.

they showed up on my doorstep at 10:30 at night and asked me to come outside. Assuming we were going to be driving around and hanging out, i grabbed my things and happily skipped out to their car where they were waiting for me, and proceeded to say,

“I don’t know how to put this in a better way than this. I don’t think we work. I don’t want to be friends anymore.”

To say i was completely shell shocked would have been an understatement. I didn’t even know we had issues. We had been inseparable for six years, and even planned to move in together. At first i briefly thought they were joking, but when i realized they weren’t i turned around and walked back inside. I knew it would have been best for me not to continue to conversation in person. They hate being screamed at, and i knew i wasn’t going to be capable of not raising my voice in that moment as they gave me no warning of this situation, and no time to process. So, i simply turned around and went back inside. They texted me a few minutes later saying that they hated it had to be this way, but they needed to grow as a person.

Naturally, i have no issue with needing to personally grow, but i felt i had no understanding of the situation, so i asked them why and why i might have done to bring this on. They said that they constantly feel ashamed around me, and that they couldn’t be themselves around me. I was confused, and quickly let them know that i have always encouraged them to be the person they want to be around me, and to not hide themselves. However, they said they couldn’t.

They said that they make me uncomfortable, and that they scare me. Naturally, as this wasn’t true, i asked them where they got this notion, seeing as i had never said such a thing to them. They said they could tell from my body language, which i found to be ridiculous. I told them it was unfair of them to assume how i feel about them without even asking me, and that if i was upset with them i would have told them. They said,

“You don’t have to say anything.” Your body language says enough.

They than proceeded to say that we were different people, coming from different backgrounds, and that made us incompatible. I asked them what they meant, and they told me

“You have more opportunities than I do, and always will, and you're comfortable with that, again, that is okay.

You can have a decent paying job in a church, spend money on coffee and dirt cheap earrings online, and repress yourself around people you're afraid of, and my experience in the world is entirely different.”

This message completely confused me, as 1.) i don’t believe the opportunities a person has should define them as a person, and i certainly never flaunted mine. I’m in college, yes, and i have a decent paying job… but never have i rubbed that in anyone’s face, in fact i try to do the exact opposite. I felt icky about the way they commented on how i spend my money… as it never effected them, and i didn’t like the light that they were painting me in.

Not to mention, they seemed to be calling attention to the fact that i wasn’t out yet with my family (I’m bisexual.) when they brought up me repressing myself. In the time I’m in right now, this is a non-negotiable for me, as my family is intensely homophobic and would have disowned me if i came out. My ex best friend has always been more radical than me in a lot of view points, and i hate the thought that they may have demonized my fear of my life falling apart around me.

Naturally, after reading this message, i accused them of calling me shallow. They said they weren’t accusing me of anything, but i believe there’s no denying the object accusations and rude phrasing of the message that they had sent.

The conversation went on for some time, with me desperately attempting to understand what was going on, before finally i grew angry.

I told them it was unfair, no matter what their reasoning was, that they handled it this way.

They said it was fine because it was a selfish decision they were making for their own betterment and mental health.

I understand this- but none the less, i feel the way they handled it was wrong.

I told them that they should have given me some warning or time to prepare for this serious conversation, but they claimed that there was no way they could have prepared me for it. I told them it was unfair of them to expect a calm reaction out of me when they literally ripped the rug out from under me and cornered me into a volatile response. They told others that my emotional reaction to all of this was me ‘attempting to manipulate them.’…. I genuinely can’t figure out if this is true or not. I believe manipulation implies i had something to gain… but i didn’t- i just- didn’t understand anything, and i was angry and hurt and i wanted them to know that how they had handled this was wrong.

They told others that my reaction was extremely emotionally immature… and i just- don’t understand anything anymore.

Following they interaction, i went to my two other closest friends. I needed my support system. I was scared and alone. I didn’t try to manipulate the situation into something it wasn’t. I didn’t want that. I wanted objective opinions. I offered the situation in its full, explaining it and showing all the screenshots, asking for opinions and advice.

One of these people happened to be my ex best friends partner…. But they were my best friend as well. We were a trio, always going to each other. This is where the situation gets messy. Maybe i shouldn’t have gone to him- but he was also my best friend… i was equally as close with him as i was my other best friend. I called him in tears, showing him all the screenshots and telling him i didn’t know what to do. I specifically told him he didn’t have to choose sides, and i didn’t want that… but i did express my fear that he would stop being my friend too. I didn’t want him to choose sides, i didn’t care if he remained with my ex best friend. I just didn’t want to lose him too.

He read through the messages, and was so horrified by my ex-best friends behavior that he felt as though he couldn’t trust them anymore. He said it was like seeing a different side of them. I didn’t say or do anything, he came to his own conclusions after looking at the situation, and he even told me he has his own issues with them separately from my situation. I still repeatedly have reminded him that he doesn’t have to make any rash decisions just to defend me, and he says he knows that… but it’s his personal stuff as well. He took a break from my ex-best friend.

As of recent, my ex-best friend has been telling others that i am manipulative, and that i am rallying people against them. They’ve aired out my personal information to others… people i go to school with. Though they didn’t give names, everyone they are talking to knows our friend group very intimately. These people know exactly who they are talking about.

They have told people I’m a narcissist because my parents are too… they’ve said “they feel bad for me” for responding the way i did, because I’m ‘traumatized’, so of course my reactions would be emotionally immature. They’ve accused me of jumping to conclusions… they haven’t given the whole story to these people. They’ve only shown one screenshot towards the end of our argument where i finally snapped and said ‘fuck you’. They showed nothing that lead up to it… only me in my worst moment and not what they said to cause it.

And they’ve accused me of rallying the people around them against them. This is in now way the case… but even if was doing it on accident… (which i don’t think I’m doing.)

It would only be two people… one of which is my close friend and their acquaintance…. It’s almost as if they don’t want me to ask for support to anyone about this… but i feel as though I’ve been made into a terrible villain, even after reaching out a few days later and apologizing for getting so emotional. I told them i never wanted them to feel like they couldn’t be themselves around me, but they never communicated that so how would i have known? Even still… i apologized, but told them it wasn’t fair how they sprung it on me and asked them to maybe try to understand my reaction. They excused that by saying that they only had half a week of preparation… which doesn’t seem fair seeing as i only got 10 seconds.

Too long didn’t read: my best friend showed up at my house at 10:30 at night and dropped me, accused me of things (maybe?? I’m not even sure anymore??) and then accused me of manipulatively rallying people against them when i reached out to my two closest friends for support- when they’ve been doing the exact same thing.

Am i the asshole?

Please be honest here- i don’t need pity. I need truth. I’m lost and confused and I’ve never been more angry and hurt than i am right now and i don’t understand what the fuck is going on-.

What are these acronyms?

[godintheworks]

Threat of Hell

I often see videos circulating online of atheists saying that people who need to be threatened with eternal damnation to be a good person are "bad people on leashes." This argument which I'm starting to see more as of late is trying to twist Christianity into what it's not: a rule book. Yes, the Bible does give people laws to follow and specific things to believe in. Yes, the Bible also says believing in those distinct things is your one-way ticket to heaven. No, this doesn't make people "bad" for following them just to keep themselves out of hell. True belief doesn't come from fear of hell, it comes from excitement to be with God in heaven. I see it as a gift to be able to follow Jesus Christ. I also see it as a gift to have an opportunity to be with him in heaven instead of the lake of fire. I don't see it as shackles on my feet keeping me from doing what I "really want to do in life." The Bible teaches me morals. It tells me what is right and wrong. Other people find morals from different places, however, I never see the argument that "because there are laws against murder it means everyone is a bad person because they would go around murdering without it." It's only with religious books that I see this argument brought out. The Bible is a book of morals, not a book of rules. The things it teaches help us be the best person we can be, it teaches us to be like Jesus. What is wrong with being a loving and helpful person?

People often see religion as a way to control a population and get them to do what one person, usually the head of the religion, wants. However, that would be a cult, and there is a big difference between religions and cults. In the Bible, you choose to let God into your life. He gave us free will, and he is letting us use it. If God wanted a bunch of rule-following robots, he could've done so. The Bible says numerous times that God is a jealous God (Exodus 20:5, Deuteronomy 6:14-15, Exodus 34:14). He wants us to follow him. He wants us to praise him in all that we do. No matter how many followers on earth he has, it doesn't change one thing that it would change if Christianity were a cult. Jesus doesn't get any worldly possessions from having more followers. The tithes and offerings you put in the bowl don't go directly to Heaven's mailbox. Cult leaders often have one person at the head of the operation who obtains money, power, and possessions over people when they have followers. God is omnipotent. He doesn't get more power when 10 people follow him, he doesn't get more power when 10000 people follow him. He is all-knowing and all-powerful. You might be thinking, "Then why does he want us to follow Him in the first place?" Because he loves us. God wants us to be with him in Heaven, and God knows that following and believing in him is the only way to do that. The Lord is giving us a chance to make it to paradise and so many skip out on it to have fun for 50-80 years on Earth.

Christianity does have faults in its leaders. I won't lie about that. I can get the argument that Christianity is a cult when you look at the pastors getting rich off of their congregation. They buy private planes and cars with the donations they get from the people. Yes, influential church leaders can get their congregation to do things that aren't exactly what you would call "Christian". I've seen sermons of certain pastors preaching hate against certain groups when they know the Bible is all about love. With a little bit of common sense, and the Bible by your side, it is possible to see right through these false teachings and go back to what is right: what the Bible teaches. The Bible is your weapon against evil, so wield it. The Bible is your protector from the Devil, so hold it. The Bible is your teacher throughout life, so read it. Ask God to give you discernment on what is right and wrong and fortify your understanding with what the Bible tells you.

[nervoushottee]

Good Trouble | Frankie x Fem!Reader x Santiago Fic

Summary: You and the Miller brothers have known each other since childhood. But the years go by and time moves on and the three of you are grown up. But what happens when they come home to visit and the two friends they bring along with them catch your eye??

WARNINGS: Have no military knowledge whatsoever so none of this accurate I’m sure. Really just writing for the boys. So please don’t take offense if any of it is wrong. Also bad parents

NOTE: This fic was 1000% inspired by @astroboots Homecoming Universe. I can’t explain how many times I’ve reread that ENTIRE series and I truly love it. I can’t picture Frankie without Santi now and vice versa. Truly a work of art. PLEASE READ IT

[2k? And some change] (Might make a Smut Part 2??)

NOT EDITED, We die like the horny sluts we are.

————————————————————————

You, Will and Benny were like three peas in the pod. Having grown up together in the same neighborhood, went to the same church when your family felt religious, even went to the same high school together. You and Benny were around the same age, graduated in the same year a few years after Will did.

You and Will were close, he was the brotherly comfort you always wanted and needed. He looked after you as if you were just another sibling. Always around, always here for you. Do you need a ride somewhere? He’s there. There’s a rat you found in your parents garage? Lock the door, scream into the phone about the small animal and he’s there with a bucket and a shovel.

You confided in him about things even Benny never knew and at times, he did too. You loved each other, a calm and quiet love that you would forever cherish.

You and Benny were an entirely different story. When Will brought out the peace and slowness out of you. Benny brought the fire and chaos. You had it in you always, especially with how strict your parents were growing up. Only allowing you to go to school and back or to Will and Benny’s. Fearful that their only daughter would get corrupted by the world and influenced by others. But what your parents didn’t know was that Benny was simply the amplifier of your chaos. The younger brother of sweet and calm Will had to be just like him right?

Going into high school, that’s when it finally snapped. Too many years of being obedient, too many years of being compliant. You were antsy and full of anger and energy. And Benny, he grew into a 6ft 3 firecracker who always got in trouble at school. One night, you told your parents you were going to a party and it didn’t end well. Involving in you slamming your bedroom door, locking it with a chair pushed against the knob. You sat on your bed legs shaking full of anxiety and frustration. You grab your phone and dial Will’s number. Will who had just got a car in his senior year.

You muttered words of wanting to get away from your parents for a bit, that he couldn’t use the front door. He told you he’d be there in 20. He got in there in 10.

You grabbed a small bag with a few clothes and toiletries having know idea what you were doing. All you knew is that you needed to get out of there.

Benny helped you out your bedroom window and the two of you run out to Will small sedan he had bought with a good hard working at multiple jobs and the leftover amount his dad and had helped pay.

That night was the first time of many were you finally let yourself loose. It was stupid to “runaway” over a party. But to be locked up away and feel like you can hardly breathe, that felt like the last straw.

Your late teens were filled with you and Benny being mischievous and chaotic. So many detentions, missing school, sneaking out. Will tried to intervene like his mom asked but he wanted you and his brother to have fun. For you two to be youthful and enjoy your times together.

But then, Will announced he was going to enlist. Wanting to follow off his dad’s footsteps and fight for his country. His mother didn’t agree with it from the start. You either. Their father was hesitant on his response, telling him it was his decision but to know and understand what he was going to do.

You hated him for it. You know you shouldn’t but it was better than feeling sad for Will to go. He told you Benny would still be here and he’d see the two of you graduate. But you knew, the minute after graduation Benny would take the first opportunity to join him.

Benny always looked up to his brother, always wanted to make him proud. More than his own father. And when graduation turned around, the two of you in royal blue caps and gowns with bright smiles on your face, Benny enlisted a week after.

You got accepted into the only college you applied for. The college you put all your cards on to get you out of your parents house as fast as you could. It was in another state, smack down in the city of Chicago. Ben and their parents helped you move. You went up many stairs, Benny’s hands full of overpriced college items that you wouldn’t need later on in the semester. Every opportunity May got she brought up the opportunity for Ben to just go to college instead of enlisting. But Ben was sure, once he set his mind on something he wouldn't do anything else.

That day was the last time you saw him in a while. You hugged him so tightly, tears staining his white t shirt. He wrapped his arms around your shoulder, he towered over you with his tall frame. From strangers the both of you looked like a couple. And if Ben ever had the courage to tell you, you probably could have been. But you held onto holding him tighter and hearing him whisper that he'd be back soon.

Throughout your years of college, Benny and Will would come home whenever they were able to. Will helped you and your roommate find an apartment to get you out of the college dorm rooms. You were done with doing communal showers. The apartment was okay? Decent enough and cheap enough to live in a good area and close to the school. But you spent most of your time working at the diner to pay for rent. The visits home to see the Miller family was sporadic. Getting letters from your boys writing on slips of paper you would read on your break.

You and Benny started to grow apart. Which wasn’t a surprise. Two of you were peas in a pod. From being close in age and close in general. From talking everyday to almost a few weeks to a month. You didn’t blame him either (you did a little), the military wasn’t a walk in the park.

Then one day, Benny calls you, saying him and Will were going to visit but he would bring a few of his friends. And that’s when you meet Frankie and Santiago.

Frankie. Who had such a quiet yet confident demeanor. A cap on his head, his brown curls peaking through beneath. Your eyes lit up at the sight of him and it couldn’t help but linger for a second before you were introduced to Santi.

Santiago. Who burned with smugness and confidence. Eyes low as he stared down at you with a smirk. His gray shirt emphasizing his toned muscles of his chest and arms. Wit and humor flowing off his tongue the minute he got into the diner.

“This is who you two are always running off too?” He say playfully as the four them sit at the booth bar. The two of you shake hands which turns into a hug as Santiago pulls you into a soft rocking embrace. ( You were happy for the extra blush you applied that morning).

You could feel Frankie’s eyes on the two of you after you released from the hug. And almost as if you could read the man in front of you (who you just met), he could tell too. Your body warmed at the feeling.

You asked them their names to make sure you got them correctly before taking their order. Frankie hesitated a few times, asking what certain dishes were made with what just to spend more time talking to you. You smiled and would tell him your eyes never leaving his.

Frankie was quiet, even with when he introduced himself. Giving you a small nod of his cap and a warm smile. He didn’t speak much but his eyes told you everything.

Santi (that’s what he told you to call him), would not let up on his flirtatious jokes. They were subtle and small. They were just enough for you to know that he was feeling something towards you.

Just enough that Benny and surprisingly Will didn’t catch up on it yet.

It was almost funny how quick you could read off of the two of them from simply your first meeting.

You felt it in your bones that the two of them was going to be trouble. A good trouble that you would want to continue getting into if they let you. You ignored Will’s ever so persistent eyes on you, you knew that he knew something was off but wouldn’t say it unless he was 100% sure and even then he still wouldn’t. That man never missed a beat of anything. Benny and Santiago chatting you up about something that happened back on base that has you chuckling a few times. Frankie keeping to himself, quiet and adding a few comments here and there.

You could see the small touches between Frankie and Santiago since the two of them sat down. They were very small and it was like looking through a magnifying glass to see them. But now it was clear as day to you. How all four of them sat at the diner stools in a row. The two of them are right next to each other. Arms brushing against one another in a way that felt more intimate than accident.

When the four men finished eating you had them the bill and expertly slipping your number into Frankie’s pocket. (He saw you writing the number down 5 minutes ago and let you put it in his locked without you knowing). Knowing if you just handed it to him for all eyes to see that you wouldn’t hear the end of it from Benny.

Benny hated all of your partners. And granted most of the time the people you got with werent that great and had a good amount of red flags. But Benny would always have something to say regardless and you hated it.

So of course he would throw more than just a fit if he saw you handing your number to not one but both of his friends he introduced to you only just that day.

Santiago was a bit more tricky. You couldn’t slip it to him secretly without alerting Benny so you failed to give it to him. The four of them waved goodbye before both Will and Benny gave you a hug and exited out the diner as it was about to close. Only one or two stragglers left in the whole building. You see Frankie and Santi talking amongst themselves outside the diner looking at you as the Miller brothers walked outside to join them.

You get to tidying up since it’s your turn to close, wiping tables and stacking up chairs. When you’re sweeping in the moonlit room is when you see it.

A black wallet on the black and white checkered floor. You pick up to expect the license and your heart stops when you see it’s Santiago’s.

You have no clue if he left here on purpose or on accident but you smile to yourself as you stuff it into your bag before locking up for the night.

Walking back to your apartment, your phone buzzes once your at your front door, keys in hand.

Frankie: Check your apron pocket.

You look at your phone confused at the message. Wondering why that is the first thing he texts you but reach into your pocket all the same. Your hand is met with a small receipt that you knew wasn’t in there before the start of your shift.

You pull your hand out to see a ripped piece of paper with both Santi and Frankie’s phone number on it.

You knew they were going to be trouble.

Good trouble.

[ironworked]

Eddie's journey

Eddie is the 10 year old whose father told him he needed to be the man of the house. He's the teenager whose girlfriend got pregnant and who felt pressured to marry partly because of the Church. He's a Mexican-American man, and culturally/lapsed Catholic. He's the young man who enlisted to provide for his family, even though he never wanted to be like his father. He's the husband who thinks they could've done better, who feels guilt for his wife leaving. He's the man who proposed again but got asked for a divorce, and who feels he wasn't enough. He's the widower who didn't get to fix things with his wife, whom he still thinks of as 'the love of [his] life'. He's the man who thinks he needs to be in control, who doesn't want to appear weak, who 'doesn't panic'. He's the son who's recently been patching things up with his father. He's the father who's recently let his kid down and misses him terribly.

Non-exhaustive list of quotes pulled from the show, with links to videos when youtube allows (full 'playlist'), arranged by broad themes:

MASCULINITY

It's under control. Don't worry. S: Every time we talk about money, you tell me not to worry. Guess what, I worry. (2.15) / Bobby: I just wanna make sure you don't think you have to lose everything before you can allow yourself to feel anything. E: No, Christopher needs me to be in control. [...] I wasn't there when he was a baby. Stayed away too long, and it broke his mother. Shannon ran away, and I couldn't stop her. I couldn't bring her back home. (3.08) / S: We'll just sell the house and the cars and I'll go back to work. Maybe only part-time but - E: No, no. Christopher is the priority right now. You should stay home with him. [...] I'm trying to provide for this family. That's the reason I enlisted in the first place. S: I don't need a provider. I need a partner. (3.15) / I don't remember you being around much when I was his age. Ramón: I was working. E: So was I. / Frank: You're a man who spends all of his time managing other people's pain [...] but not a lot of time facing your own. Can't put all your feelings in a box, Eddie. You might think if you're strong enough that it'll hold. But at some point, that box is gonna blow open. E: And take me with it. F: You and anyone else around you. (5.13) / [R] spent his whole life driving across the state. Living everywhere but under his own roof with his own family. ... Oh, uh, why don't you tell them about the time you pulled your ten-year-old son aside and told him it was time to step up? Be the man of the house? [...] R: I was providing for the family. E: Providing? Providing what money? - Okay R: Exactly. I had to do what I had to do. E: A family needs more than money. (6.17)

RELIGION

Turns out, I'm a Manchurian Catholic. I've just got a reservoir of Catholic guilt just lying dormant, waiting to be activated [...] What, you think I should go to confession? You think a priest is going to make me feel better about all this? [...] Bobby: Lapsed Catholic, still a Catholic. [...] That was a lot of the reason why we got married. The Church. She got pregnant and I think we both felt pressured into it. But I never regretted it, and even when things got really bad, there was always a part of me that I loved being married to her. (7.05) / Bobby: Eddie, I was going through some things, and I found this [prayer book]. Made me think of you. Just hang onto it, It might come in handy.

SHANNON

He loves having you around.[...] We both do. [...] I want this. Want to have a nice day on the beach with my son and his mother. ... Bobby: Were you ready the first time? Eddie: No. I knew I loved her, but I didn't think I was ready to get married. [...] I guess the question is, can I be a good husband? ... I knew Christopher missed you, but I I don't think I realized just how much I did, too. [...] We could have done better, we could have tried, I want us to be a family again. (2.17) / I loved your mom and I miss her, probably always will. (3.04) / I'm angry at a dead person and at myself because I forgave her for everything, and and it wasn't enough. I wasn't enough. (3.08) / I just want what I had when I met Shannon. It just happened. It was magic. Hen: Oh, so you believe in magic. E: I believe in chemistry. ... Bobby: Eddie, I know how hard this is. One thing you can't do is compare what you had with what you think you're gonna have. You just have to be open to whatever comes. (6.17)

(7.09 deleted scene)

CHRISTOPHER

E: Christopher. Is this Mom? Hey. Is that who you've been dreaming about? (3.04) / I wish I could forget. People go away. Not just Mom. Abuelita, Carla, my friends. They leave and then I miss them. I don't want to miss anyone else. (4.08) / Ravi: You must be Eddie's wife? C: Not yet. (5.02) / They just end up leaving anyway. Buck: Uh, why would you say that? C: My mom did. B: Uh, Chris, your mom died. C: Before that. She left us. We loved her, and she left anyway. I can't remember her voice anymore. (7.01)

(5.03) (6.18)

Dad, do you think she can hear us when we talk to her? E: Absolutely. That's why we come here. C: I wish I could hear her talk back. E: Me, too, bud. Me, too. ...

I'm sorry. I was thinking maybe we could watch it together in El Paso next weekend. I know. Yeah, I know. I know, it's last-minute, but I miss you guys, and I know Christopher does, too. Exactly. Why wait? Well, there's no better time than now. (6.15) / Chris, he's excited to see everyone, he misses them. (5.17)

I tried to talk about it with him and he ignored me the whole drive back. R: That part, that part sounds like us. The old Díaz family cold shoulder. Your Abuela originated it, but as I recall, you perfected it. [...] You had to grow up a lot faster than you should have. But that doesn't mean you can keep Christopher a kid forever. (6.04)

It just pisses me off. I mean, here's a kid who actually wants his dad in his life, and he doesn't even bother to show up? I miss him so much, Cap. I'm trying to respect his wishes, but we zoom a couple times a week, barely says a word to me. ... Sometimes a son just needs his father. Hell, a father needs his son. I speak from experience. ... But you're missing out on watching him grow up, on who he's becoming. ... I'm a dad who doesn't live under the same roof as his son. And it's my fault. And I hate it. (8.04) / Christopher doesn't want anything to do with Halloween, turns out. [...] Not like I was gonna be able to do it with him anyway. I just wish I knew last year was his last. (8.05)

That's the path behind him, so I don't think it's outrageous to expect that his future storyline(s) at least in short and mid term will involve unpacking at least some of that as well as whatever moves/decisions made to actively heal his relationship with Christopher and get him back.

Also, this is why Christopher felt the need for some space; it's not out of nowhere, and he isn't throwing a tantrum.

Some interesting posts: Eddie Díaz's tragic timeline; 2.17 vs 8.05 comparison gifset; about Ryan Guzmán's references in interviews (x, x, x); about Eddie's background/potential SLs based on it (x, x).

[pxrplebxtterfly]

Yes Father (2/2)

gifs belong to me

18+

Pairings: Sam Winchester’s alias Father Frehley x fem reader

Warnings: SMUT, priest kink?, mentions of religion, alcohol use, spanking, fingering, blowjob.

Summary: Father Frehley shows up in your town and the two of you share a nightcap.

Word count: 4.5k

Notes: This fic was written in a FIRST PERSON POV!!! This is part of a two-part fic about Sam’s alias Father Frehley. This second part takes place during season 12, episode 4: American Nightmare, ten years later. Although Sam goes by Father DiNero in the episode, the narrator still knows him as Father Frehley. Also, so sorry for taking forever to put this out, I’m working full time this summer so it’s been hard to make time to write. This 2nd part might be less cohesive and consistent due to my inability to write all the time. Thanks for being patient and I hope you enjoy!!!

❀𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣❀

It’s been ten years. It’s been ten years since I’ve seen Father Frehley. Until now. There he is walking out of the church on my block with the same priest he was with before. This is not what I expected when I decided to take a walk this morning.

❀𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣❀

I moved to the midwest after finishing college for a job. I also wanted to get out of my small town in the deeply religious south. After my experience with Father Frehley, one thing led to another and I started to transition out of the church.

❀𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣❀

That’s how I ended up here, in my new town, in front of him once again.

He sees me, standing on the sidewalk across the street, shock on my face. I see him too. He’s even taller than I remember. His hair is longer and his face more chiseled.

He’s ten years older, so am I.

He’s equally as shocked, the chances of encountering each other again are impossibly low. Yet, here he is, walking across the street towards me, a smirk plastered on his face.

“Father Frehley?” I say once he’s close enough to where I don’t need to raise my voice. He steps up onto the sidewalk in front of me, his hands in his pockets.

“Hi, it’s good to see you. What are you doing in Iowa?” he greets with a smile.

I’m in a trance seeing him again.

“I live here, what are you doing here?” I ask, shaking my head in disbelief.

“Visiting friends,” he looks back at the church, “how long’s it been?”

“Ten years I think,” I say blushing when I’m reminded of the last time we were together.

“Wow, well you haven’t aged at all” he gestures to me, a twinkle in his eyes.

His jaw is covered in stubble, aging him. He looks more mature and grown.

“Thank you” I say and blush again, as I see the way he looks at me.

He still has that same lust and desire in him, like he had when we first met. I can feel it.

“Father!” Father Simmons calls to him from their car.

Apparently he doesn’t recognize me, though I don’t judge him for that.

“I’ve got to go, but it was nice seeing you again. Let me know if you want to get together while I’m still in town!” he says softly, looking down at me.

I say goodbye and watch as the handsome priest saunters back to the other side of the road.

I hate myself for my horny thoughts: that he’s only gotten sexier.

❀𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣❀

It’s 10:30. I shouldn’t be calling him but I’ve found myself distracted the whole day after running into him this morning. I can’t stop thinking about the way he corrupted me, and how he taught me so gently. My skin burns, daydreaming about his massive physique and probing eyes.

The last time we did this, I knew nothing. Now I know that what he did was not the way things usually go.

However, I don’t hold any resentment towards him or feel like what he did was wrong. In fact, it’s always turned me on, knowing that this young, hot, kind, priest strayed from his religious upholdings to teach and please me.

It’s something I fantasize and think about often; the kinky sort of thing that makes most people raise an eyebrow with confusion.

For me, it’s an eyebrow of intrigue.

I ransack my jewelry box on the dresser looking for the stack of cards with numbers on them, I’ve accumulated from men over the years. When I find it, I untie the rubber band holding the cards in place, and take the card from the very bottom.

It’s his. The number on it might not even be his anymore but it’s worth a shot.

I pick up my cell phone and punch the number in. I press call and hold the phone up to my ear. The line rings three times, and I hold my breath the whole time. After the third ring, the line clicks and I hear a “Hello?”

“Hi, is this Father Frehley?” I ask nervously.

“Uh, yeah it is, can I help you?”

I breathe out, shakey just from hearing his voice.

“I hope so. You told me to let you know if I wanted to get together and well, I do right now if you’re not busy” I bite my lip, hoping he can tell it’s me.

“I thought it might’ve been you,” he chuckles softly.

“Are you up for a nightcap?” I ask. There’s a pause and then I hear his laugh start again.

“You know what, as a matter of fact I could use a drink. What’d you have?”

“Whiskey, bourbon, scotch… Any of those sound good?”

“Send me your address, I’ll be right over” he says, his mind made up already.

We end the phone call and I text him my address. In anticipation, I set out all my best liquor and daydream about the things he might do to me once he comes over.

Within minutes of calling him, the Chevy Impala pulls up outside my front window. I hide behind my curtains and watch as he walks up to my front door. My heart is racing, watching him take long strides up my sidewalk, in the dim porch light.

He knocks on the door and I take a deep breath to settle my nerves. I act like I wasn’t just watching him and take a second to answer.

When I open the door, there he is. My body tenses seeing him and I’m almost overcome with excitement.

He stands there smirking down at me, thrilled at my desperation. He’s still wearing a black suit and white roman collar like he’s just been to mass. My body is overrun by attraction and I can feel my core jump as I step aside and let him in.

“So, you said you have whiskey” he says as I close the front door behind him.

“I do, it’s in the kitchen, you can follow me” I say, and walk in front of him, down the hallway to the kitchen.

“You have a beautiful house; it smells nice in here, like a real home” he says behind me.

“Thanks, it’s probably all the candles I burn, I can never have too many” I say and grab two glasses off the kitchen counter.

Moments of silence pass and he doesn’t say something until I’ve poured our drinks and put the bottle of whiskey down.

“You know I never thought I’d see you again, so seeing you this morning was rather jarring” he says as I pick up our glasses.

“Jarring in a bad way?” I ask, walking towards him and offering the drink.

“I wouldn’t say so” he says gently as our fingers brush when I transfer the glass to his hand.

We lock eyes, his green irises putting a spell on me. I feel my heart burn and I don’t walk back to the other side of the kitchen for a moment; too lost in the lusty haze surrounding us.

When I finally back away, he asks me a question: “Are you still religious?” He’s looking down at the ground, noticing some smudge on his shoe.

Oh God, I think. He’ll hate my answer, I mean he’s a priest. But he broke his vows first, who is he to judge?

I blush with guilt and shake my head. I decide to confess with a hint of playfulness, “How can I be after what you did to me?”

His eyes shoot up to look at me. When he sees my smirk he takes a deep breath in, as if trying to hold something back. After a second he nods, smiles, and says, “That’s very fair”

“What about you? Are you still religious?” I tease, taking a sip of my drink.

“What do you think?” he scoffs and adjusts his collar, “However, I’m no longer a junior priest, I’ve fully joined the priesthood.”

“Oh yeah? Congratulations. Can I ask you a question about priests?”

I decide to be bold because already this whiskey is having an effect on me. I want him to take my clothes off and have me right here on my kitchen island.

“Of course, anything you want,” he says. The look on his face makes me think he already knows exactly what I'm about to ask. It has to be brought up eventually.

I bite my lower lip before asking, “What kind of priest fingers someone?”

He pauses, his eyes probing mine with a fire lit behind them. His eyes undress me, the lower half of his face going a little slack with shock.

He takes a breath, licks his lips and says, “a sacrilegious one”

I shiver under his gaze, and ask quietly, “Are you still sacrilegious?”

He stares at me, sinful ideas blossoming in his head. I can see them form behind his eyes.

“Should we find out?” he asks in a low voice, straightening up.

“Yes please” I smile and put my glass down. He does the same.

He walks towards me and corners me to the counter. He places his hands on the counter beside my hips and looms over me. The smell of his cologne hits me and my legs become weak. As I stare up at him he lifts his hand off the counter and brushes a strand of hair behind my ear.

With his fingers gently cupping my face, he kisses me. It’s soft at first, and so gentle. His warm lips barely even on mine. The taste of whiskey crawls into my mouth and makes me burn to taste more of him. He continues, gifting me with slow, loving, sweet, kisses.

The tantalizing, methodical movement of his lips makes my head buzz. His deliverance of affection and passion sends heat everywhere, flooding every vein.

Soon, the lust of years gone by, is too strong to resist and things begin to heat up. His tongue glides into my mouth and we begin to devour each other. Our mouths open wide, and greedy to explore.

Both of his large hands hold my face as I melt like ice cream in his mouth. The feeling of his hands cradling my jaw and skull so tenderly makes my cunt lurch with amusement. Knowing how vulnerable and fragile I am as he handles me, twists the knot inside me tighter.

His hands begin to get a little rough, a little more in control. They hold me close to his lips and his fingers tangle and tug slightly at my hair.

His stubble and fallen strands of hair tickle my cheeks as his body slowly molds into mine.

My hips push against his thighs and my lower stomach is pressed to his pelvis. I can feel him stiffen through his slacks. He moans into me when I push myself into him more, not wanting any space between us.

I wrap my hands around his neck, keeping him leaning downwards to kiss me. I weave my fingertips into his hair at the nape of his neck and play with it. Apparently he likes this because he places a knee between my legs and pushes it forward until his thigh reaches my crotch. Feeling the pressure he creates, I roll my hips and pathetically grind on his thigh.

I moan into his mouth as he bites my lower lip and lifts his leg to create more pressure. We part naturally to breathe and he moves his hands to my ass. He squeezes gently and asks, “Have you been a good girl all these years?”

I don’t know what to say so I just nod and whimper as he grips my ass, and I chase his lips.

“Tell me,” he commands softly, fingers clawing into my flesh.

I sigh, out of breath and because his words turn me on. “Probably not Father,” I say, “but I can be good for you tonight”

He responds with a shaky moan-like laugh, delighted with my response and kisses me with such desire I almost become a puddle at his feet.

He continues to knead at my ass, pushing and pulling with the rhythm of my hips on his leg. He does this all while kissing me, the cat and mouse with his tongue making me grind harder.

I’m panting into his mouth, holding his face as close to mine as I can. We stop kissing when I’m unable to breathe and need to concentrate on not overwhelming myself with pleasure so quickly.

“Look at you getting all worked up on my leg” he whispers into my ear.

I moan at his comment and squeeze my thighs around his leg.

His hands move from my ass to my breasts. He squeezes them through my shirt. I immediately rip my shirt off over my head and undo my bra for him.

He marvels at my tits and takes them in his hands. As we kiss he pinches my nipples and runs over them with his thumb. I’m whimpering into his mouth, twitching at his touch.

He pulls off my mouth and ducks down to my chest. He takes one of my breasts into his mouth and sucks. His tongue plays with my nipple as he sucks my breast.

I hold his head to my chest, so far immersed in this pleasure I block out the world.

He moves his mouth to my other breast and I moan. He sucks and plays with my tits for a few minutes, giving them attention. When he’s finished he begins kissing me again. He kisses me and I taste my skin on his tongue. He pulls away suddenly, and I can tell in his eyes, that he’s thought of something.

“You wanna be good? Turn around,” he tells me.

That’s what I do. I turn around and bend over the counter. I feel him pull at my jeans, and feel the cold air hit me. He pulls my pants down to my ankles and I kick them off.

He comes up behind me, hips pushing against my bare bottom. I feel him through his pants and I clench around nothing. He leans over me and kisses my neck just below my ear. The sound of his breathing and feel of his lips forces a sigh and whimper out of me.

His hands feel up my waist and back, germinating seeds of heat sowed under my skin. His hands travel to my shoulders, and down my arms. His fingers wrap around my wrists, and this display of dominance makes my stomach flutter.

He whispers into my ear, “Stand up”

We stand up at the same time, his hands let go of my wrists. When we’re up, he turns me around against the counter by my waist. He kisses me once more and grabs my wrists again.

When he pulls away, he keeps one hand holding my wrist. He starts to walk to my living room, and I follow him as close as I can. He leads me to my couch and he sits down in the middle. I sit next to him.

“Bend over my lap,” he commands.

I give him a curious look that asks, “what are you about to do to me?”

His eyes shimmer, he smirks and nods to his lap. I’m intrigued and crawl over him.

I feel his hard-on underneath the side of my hip as I settle myself over his lap.

Wasting no time, he runs his hands over my ass and grabs palm fulls of my flesh. I feel his fingers grip my skin to expose my pussy for him to look at.

“Fuck” he moans and slaps my ass a little.

I squeal from the sharp sting and circle my hips in response. I wasn’t prepared for his hit but I enjoyed it.

“Oh did you like that?” he asks and another slap, a little bit harder than the last, lands on my other cheek.

I moan a ‘mhm’ and squeeze my thighs together. He slaps me again.

I’m cursing at the surge of pleasure being sent to my cunt each time he spanks me.

He rubs his palm over the places he’s slapped, cooling and soothing them with his touch.

Once again, he spreads my folds with his fingers and groans at the sight of me. My slick covers the inside of my thighs, coating my skin.

“Such a pretty pussy” he murmurs, groping my ass. I feel and hear him spit on me, his saliva landing right at my entrance. My stomach churns with heat, and I wiggle my hips, trying to grind into his lap.

I then feel his finger circle my hole, prodding at it, teasing me. I push my ass up, trying to make his finger slip in. The heavy tip of his finger, toying with me, makes my head spin. The crave for his fingers in me becomes almost impossible to bear.

“Father, please” I plead, my face buried in throw pillows.

“Please what? Cmon use your words for me” he teases.

I feel his other hand begin to rub my clit. The desperation for his fingers in me only amplifies. My skin prickles from the torture he’s causing.

“Please put your fingers in me” I beg.

He listens and plunges his long, thick finger in. I release a sob of relief and pleasure, when I feel him deep against my walls.

He begins to curl his finger, slowly hollowing me out. He soon starts oscillating between fucking his finger in and out of me, and pushing up against my g-spot.

I crave more, and that’s what he delivers. Adding another finger, he opens me up and pumps into me more ferociously.

He fucks me with his fingers, deep and hard, making tears form in the corners of my eyes. His other hand vibrates with speed against my clit, making me moan and squirm. He fucks me perfectly, hitting every pleasure nerve in me. His fingers start to vibrate in me and I begin to cry from the overwhelming bliss.

His fingers coax an orgasm out of me, setting free what had been building up all day. It’s over way too fast and I’m in shock at how easily he drew an orgasm from me.

“Oh my god” I pant once he’s slowed his movements and I’ve come down.

“That good, huh?” he teases and takes his fingers out of me gently.

I sigh at the empty feeling and push myself off my stomach. I sit back on my knees and say, “you have no idea,”

He drags his fingers across my waist, leans towards me, and before our lips touch, he says, “oh I think I do”

As he speaks he brings his two fingers that were in me, between our lips.

I blush, embarrassed at my orgasm that covers his fingers.

“Open,” he says, and I do. I let him push his fingers into my mouth, exploring my tongue.

“Do you like the way you taste?” he whispers, his gaze never straying from my mouth. He’s smirking, enjoying the show, as he watches me suck on his fingers. I nod, showing him. I take his wrist in my hand and pull his fingers from my lips. Once out, I kiss the tips of his fingers and he scoffs as it turns him on.

“Get on your knees” he says softly. He’s not commanding or harsh, but almost moaning with his anticipation.

I kiss him quickly on the lips and watch him smile as I slide off the couch and onto the floor. My knees bruise but I don’t care, I just shuffle myself between his long, meaty thighs.

I look at his crotch, and see the tent in his pants. It makes the heat between my thighs only grow. He leans forwards and begins to stroke my hair. He pets me and says, “So far, you’ve behaved well. But, I want you to show me how good you can be”

I know what he wants and I’m more than happy to service him.

“You think you can do that for me?” he asks.

“Yes Father,” I say and reach my hand up to palm at his erection.

He breathes out quickly through his nose and says “good girl,”

I watch him lean back into the couch, giving me full control over him. He unbuttons his black dress shirt and peels his roman collar off. He shrugs off his shirt and I’m stunned at how his torso looks. It’s so sculpted and tan, it’s better than I ever imagined. I notice a tattoo of a pentagram at the center of what appears to be the sun. It’s above his left peck and it sparks curiosity in me. I want to know the story behind it eventually.

I slither my hands up to his belt and undo it slowly, biting my lip in excitement. I remember him well; how could I forget?

His belt undone, I zip open his fly and then tug at his pants and underwear. I need to see him, I need to feel him.

He lifts his hips and pushes his pants down and off, kicking them to the side.

Finally, his red, inflamed cock is free, and all for me. I grab it immediately and wrap my hand around it, feeling how thick it is.

He lets out a shaky breath as I take him in my fist.

“Come on baby, show me what you can do,” he breathes out, encouraging me.

I kiss the head of his dick, smearing pre-cum on my lips. I then stick my tounge out and lick around his tip. Once I’ve swirled my tongue around the head of his leaking dick, I begin to make out with his shaft. I kiss up and down his cock, all the way down to his balls. I suck on his balls, taking one into my mouth, and then the other. He moans as I slobber on them.

“Fuck, you’re so-,” he can’t finish his thought, too lost in watching as I lick every exposed piece of him.

I’m looking up at him the whole time, watching his reactions. His fist is holding my hair back, guiding my head gently. I finally wrap my lips around him and suck. He groans as I begin to slowly bob up and down, getting my mouth used to him.

“Look at you…” he coos, proud and stunned by my eagerness. I smile through my motions, happy he’s in awe of my performance.

As I continue, I look up and see his eyes shut tight and jaw clenched as I suck. His hand on the back of his head causes his arm to flex, sending a ripple of tingles to my pussy. I hum in pleasure at his enjoyment and this causes him to let another moan escape.

Hearing him fills me with endurance and excitement. I force myself to go deeper, taking him into my mouth a little bit farther. I keep the same up and down motion, going a little faster as well.

I pop off him, giving myself a minute to breathe. I look up at him and his face is heavily flushed and he’s biting his bottom lip. “Fuck” he sighs.

I giggle and continue where I left off.

Now, I’m taking him all the way to the back of my throat. My teeth have rubbed the inside of my lips raw, and his cock has bruised my throat, but I’m not about to stop. I’m giving him the sloppiest head of his life and it’s made clear to me that he’s almost done.

He’s been panting for a few minutes now, as if he’s trying to control himself. Trying to hold out a little bit longer. I keep going, focusing on his pleasure only. My hands are playing with his balls and jerking on the lower half of his cock.

He goes silent and then all at once I hear him moan and let out curses while something warm fills my mouth and throat. When he’s finished, I slow and stop.

I look up at him and show him my tongue, still laced with his seed. He breathes out an exhausted moan.

I swallow him and show him my empty mouth after.

“Fuck,” he moans, “You’re such a good girl, you should be proud”

He bends forwards and I sit up on my knees. He puts his hands on the sides of my head and kisses me. It’s a little dry, both of us out of breath, but it’s endearing.

He pulls away, his hands still on my cheeks and stares at me. I look up at him, letting him admire me. He plays with my hair and caresses my cheekbone with his thumb.

Neither of us speak, preferring to let the silence embrace us.

The smell of our sweat is thick in the air, almost fog like.

I stand up and climb into his lap. I wrap my arms around his neck and straddle him. I cling to him, the both of us naked and flushed. He envelopes me with his long, lean arms, pulling me tight against him.

We sit here momentarily, breathing each other in, enjoying the intimacy we’re sharing.

I feel him start to kiss my shoulder and move to my neck. I pull my face from his shoulder, allowing him access to my throat. He kisses and sucks on my neck lovingly. He’s inattentive to anything else.

His lips on my neck make me groan lazily. Sparks fly off of us, driving me wild. He kisses up my throat, to my jaw and diligently pours his affection onto my skin. He finally reaches my mouth. Our kisses are like before, slow, less hesitant but just as impassioned.

I desperately don’t want to break away from what we’ve just shared but I know that it’s fleeting. I pull away and hold his head in my hands. It’s my turn to admire him.

He smiles at me and says, “I don’t want to go, but I think I should”

I smile with him and nod. We both know he has his priest thing even though he’s probably the worst priest I’ve ever met.

“Call me if you’re ever in town again” I say.

“Absolutely,” he says.

I climb off him and dress myself. He sits up off the couch and does the same.

Before he leaves I take a pen and sticky note from a drawer in my kitchen and write my number and name on it. I hand it to him after he puts his shoes on and is standing by the door.

He slips the sticky note in his pocket and pulls me in by my waist for one last kiss. When we part he says, “Goodbye,” and smiles as he opens the door.

He walks through and out into the night. I take his place by the door and watch as he walks down my sidewalk and gets into his car.

I shut the door as he drives off and sigh while I think about what just occurred.

I still smell him and I’m not sure if I’m ever going to be able to wash it off.

[loveletterstoeverything]

on smelling the flowers

Walk One

My dog takes great pleasure in our evening walks. I have not always felt the same. Our walks, historically, go like this: she pulls on her leash, and I follow behind doom scrolling social media on my phone. The heat of the evening feels oppressive, the breeze hot and taunting. She is happy, and I think only of getting back inside to lay down in the AC. She insists on smelling every fallen fruit and darts after bugs with joy. I endure.

On one of our very first walks together, Daisy rolls on her back, feet in the air, happier than I have ever seen her. I pull out my phone to take a quick video of her joy, feeling it rise in my chest as well, until my nose catches up with the situation. My dog, finally out of the shy shelter dog phase, has rolled in feces. Any joy I felt is lost in the realization that I will now need to wash a three legged dog who hates bath time and that I might be late to work because of it. Daisy, despite being covered in shit, seems to be even happier. 

I envy my dog for her seemingly natural propensity for joy, especially in the face of hard times. I brought her home 10 days after she lost her hind leg to a car accident, her side still scraped and scarred from the pavement. And yet the first moment we met she came bouncing over, sat in my lap and licked my face. She was sniffing flowers with her entire cone in the bushes, tail wagging like nothing bad had ever happened to her. Could I ever do the same?

In church I grew up hearing that happiness was a feeling, but joy is a choice. To a 17-year-old with severe depression, this sounded like bullshit shared to shift the blame of our pain from God to ourselves. I spent my life with a clenched fist, nails digging into my palm, enduring what the church might claim was God’s plan for my life. Expressing unhappiness was met each time with a smile and a condemnation: happiness is a feeling, joy is a choice; your feelings don’t matter, do a better job at getting rid of them. Truthfully, I still believe that this mantra was shared with the purpose of absolving the Almighty of any hand in our affliction, though I have found meaning of my own in them since.

Walk Two

My favorite time to walk with my dog is right before the sun fully sets, when the heat has started to seep out of the concrete and dissipate into the air but it hasn’t quite become dark yet. We walk along the fence of our complex, where bushes of purple flowers bloom when it rains. My sweet dog, with her flopping ears and wagging tail, has always believed in smelling every single flower for as long as necessary. I, with my allegedly important life, believe in shorter, functional walks. I believed that feeling joy and that noticing the beauty of this world and this life was something I could only achieve through time and medication and luck. 

I want to be clear: medication is for many (and certainly for me) a prerequisite to study and participate in joy. But I thought medicine would be magic. I was disappointed to discover that it functions more as a life jacket than a cruise ship. I wanted joy to happen to me, and I was frustrated to find that all the mood stabilizers and anxiety meds in the world wouldn’t bestow immediate happiness upon me. 

But here was this dog sniffing flowers. 

Why could I make hours of time for things that made me miserable but not take these ten minutes to be present, outside, a spectator to my dog’s delight? Why was I so annoyed when our walks would take longer while she took the time to smell every fallen olive from the trees, as if each would be a brand new scent? Maybe they are to her. Maybe each sniff makes her heart feel lighter, more excited to go to the next, the way I read books when I was young and joy was easy. Maybe if I stood here with her, I could learn her secret to happiness. 

Walk Three

I think Daisy knew what all dogs innately know: to experience joy we must choose to participate in it. Every walk, she knows to smell everything in reach of her nose: pink and purple flowers, a grasshopper before it leaps away, even the occasional snake. I wish I could say it only took one or even a handful of walks for my perspective to change. But it took years of walks (and of therapy, and of finding the right balance of medication) before anything clicked. Walking a dog is consistent; it requires intentionality and participation. Joy is similar. 

We cannot choose the perfect set of conditions to experience joy any more than we can make flowers bloom, but we can choose to seek all those places where the conditions are right for it. And when they do bloom, soft orange petals bursting open to the light, dirt still soft from the rain, we can choose to give into it. When we are consistent in looking for where our heart finds joy, in noticing where that little pull in our chest whispers “pay attention”, we can choose to experience that joy fully. 

Daisy reframed joy and happiness for me. Happiness is a feeling, yes – one of the many across the spectrum I can experience and express fully and with no shame. And joy is a choice; even when I might be covered in shit from my roll on the grass, I can choose to feel joy that I am alive, joy that there is grass to roll in, joy to not have a cone around my neck any longer. Daisy would.

On our walks now, when Daisy smells a flower, I smell one too. The yellow ones make me sneeze, and the purple ones smell a little like feet to me, but each time I breathe in the flowers with my dog I find myself smiling and marveling at what it is to be alive. Daisy rolls in the dirt, and even though a part of me wishes to pull her back to avoid trying to de-mud a 3-legged dog who hates baths, I take off my shoes and jump in puddles with her. I laugh and her tail wags and I realize that this is the way we choose joy. 

[what-gs-watching]

“Because  what is a coincidence but a form of accident?”

So I went home for Christmas for the first time in like four years, which was really nice. Sometimes it’s good to be surrounded by family. But try as I might, I couldn’t convince a room full of adults who have never actually seen Doctor Who to watch the new Christmas special. 

Clearly, my family is a little bit lame. 

Which means I was late to watching The Church on Ruby Road, but finally got into it the other day and y’aaaaall, that was cute. 

15 is gonna be his own whole thing, and I’m climbing aboard, for better or worse. Are we pandering to gen-z a little bit? Yes. But I think I’m okay with it. Sometimes you need to shake shit up. 

Wherein the Doctor meets Ruby Sunday, a ‘foundling’ born on Christmas Eve, that has been having a ton of weird accidents and/or coincidences. Hijinx and numerous outfit changes ensue. 

Everyone is talking about the fashion, and I love that 15 is just like ‘I’m gonna do whatever, why are we always wearing the same damn thing?’ Amazing kilt? Yes. Gorgeous leather jacket that seems like a callback to something Donna had worn with 10? Absolutely. Weird little zip up sweaters? For sure. 

Baby boy, you are gonna be SO interesting. 

Okay so, Ruby was a baby abandoned on Christmas Eve, and then adopted by her foster mother. Once again we get like a tiny baby companion, this girl is 19 because of course she is. But she’s just living her life and dropping shit and tripping over things and weird things are happening to her and she thinks it’s all good but we can see weird little hands causing all of her mishaps and the Doctor is following her a little bit because he’s got an inkling something weird is happening. 

My favorite part of his lurking is obviously when he runs into her in the club - beauty is DANCING IT OUT. I absolutely love it. He bi-generates and is like ‘yo I know what i need’ and he just tears up the dance floor. Sometimes you need to get sweaty and let your brain drift away because there’s pulsing music and people everywhere. ‘Dance it out’ is one of the best ways to get over things, to remember you’re alive. I felt that so hard. I haven’t danced it out in FOREVER. 

Anyway, we find out that she and her adopted mother are still fostering children, and on Christmas Eve, Ruby’s birthday, they get assigned another foundling baby who was ALSO just born that day, what a coincidence! All about coincidences, this episode. 

So Ruby gets left with the baby while her mother pops out for something and SURPRISE! The baby gets taken through a window. Ruby obviously follows out the window, up to the roof, and sees little weird aliens taking the baby up a rope ladder, which she immediately starts to climb. Gotta love a new companion going for it. 

The doctor sees her, and starts jumping from roof to roof to follow her, and he jumps onto the rope ladder too and they’re suspended precariously in the air. This little smartie pulls out a set of gloves - he says he invented them because he’s always hanging off of things. Each of them put one on, and they take the weight and the pressure and let the two of them dangle off the rope ladder, easy as anything. 

This dude comes out swinging with these gloves - gloves that would have let Rose hang on and not been sucked into the other reality. Righting wrongs all over the place, it’s sweet. 

So they climb up the rope and to a super weird wooden ship in the sky - we learn the creatures are goblins, and they’re immediately caught and tied up. But the Doctor can get out of that, obviously, and he’s saying that the goblins are gonna eat the baby and that coincidence is what makes the baby tasty, because that makes sense.

He says that the goblins went back in Ruby’s timeline and started weaving in her accidents and coincidences, entwining her and the baby, making a tapestry. He says it’s the language of luck, and it’s a new science to him, and he’s so excited by it. I always love how excited the Doctor gets when he comes face to face with something he doesn’t know. 

Ruby calls the goblins time travelers and he gets so offended, saying “They are not time travelers. Excuse me! Time travelers are great. Like, the best. Like, wow.” It’s adorable. But he doesn’t tell her he is one. He also doesn’t tell her he’s an alien, at any point in their adventure. And she doesn’t ask. Which is interesting. 

So they need to get out of the little hold they’re in to save the baby, and the Doctor realizes the ship is tied together with knots, so he has to learn that language too, and he does. They escape into some equivalent of ventilation shafts, and they stumble upon the main area of the ship where a ton of goblins are getting ready to devour a baby.

But FIRST, they’re gonna do a musical number? The lyrics of which explain what’s going on, and introduces the Goblin King? Because that’s something we’re doing now. I told you, I’m climbing aboard. So it’s hilarious when the Doctor and Ruby drop down from the rafters and the Doctor is like ‘I’m going with it’ and he joins in on the song, Ruby too. Like fuck it, this is weird and we’re DOING it. 

So they use their part of the musical number to distract everyone and get their hands on the baby, and the Doctor reverses the power of his new fancy gloves to pull them down out of the ship, and back to Ruby’s apartment. 

Nice and clean, right? Back in the house, the Doctor says he doesn’t think the ship will try to invade, that they thrive on accidents instead so they start running around the house making sure that nothing can go wrong. In the middle of it, Ruby’s mom comes home and they’re trying to explain the Doctor and reassure her that everything’s fine and the three of them are in the room with the baby and they’re talking about all the kids that Ruby’s mom has fostered, 33 including the baby. 

The Doctor says “I’m adopted”, so we really are going with the timeless child thing, but the point is it’s a coincidence and there’s a weird storm brewing outside and then there’s a loud CRACK and the roof of the apartment has a giant seam running through it and the Doctor runs through the house to make sure everything is alright, he thinks that maybe the goblins have gone and wrecked the apartment as a parting gift, but when he makes it back to the bedroom, there is only the baby and Ruby’s mom. Ruby is gone. 

And her mom has completely forgotten her. The pictures of all the foster kids she had on her refrigerator are gone, and she’s complaining about needing to  foster this random baby on Christmas Eve, she’s clearly not the woman she was, and the Doctor realizes the goblins have gone, but they’ve gone back to the night Ruby was left outside a church, and have taken her instead. 

Out to the TARDIS he goes to intercept them. And they’re there, the night Ruby was abandoned, singing again about how they’re going to eat her. So he uses his gloves again, he gets a hold of their rope ladder and he starts to PULL. Down, and down, and down. And the ship is directly over the church that’s got a nice pointy little steeple. And it gets impaled. And we see the steeple go directly through the Goblin King, and then boom, the entire ship disintegrates.

Super helpful, those gloves. Finding positivity in past trauma, and all that. 

So the Doctor grabs baby Ruby and puts her outside the church door like she’s supposed to be, and she gets scooped up exactly the way she had been meant to. And the Doctor sees her mother walking away, and Ruby had so desperately wanted to know who she was, but he doesn’t go after her. I can’t help but think that’s going to be a thing, later. That sort of situation is always a thing, later. 

Back in the present, the Doctor returns to the apartment and Ruby is fine, if a little confused. He tells her that they went back and she was gone and she doesn’t understand it but then he’s popping out again because he needs to help a woman who had gotten caught up in Ruby’s accidents and coincidences. Once that’s done, he’s  out on the street again, about to go back inside but he stops and he says “maybe I’m the bad luck” so don’t worry y’all, not all that trauma is gone. He’s still doubting Doctor a little bit underneath. 

Meanwhile, Ruby is putting it together a little bit. The stuff he had said about time travelers and how the goblins went back and how he mentioned spending a summer with Houdini and she grabs her coat and runs out to the street. And there’s the box. With its door open, just a bit ajar. And she peeks in, and then she circles it, touching the sides. She doesn’t SAY it’s bigger on the inside, but her face implies it. 

And then she gets in. And she asks, “who are you?” and he just smiles all debonair and he says “I’m the Doctor.” 

Basically, I’m bought in. Even if it was a little bit silly, and I never got an explanation about what the goblins really were or where they were from. Even if we’re using random gadgets now. Because each of them are their own thing, and that’s what’s so good about it. You have to let the last one go a little bit. You have let each one of them go, a little bit, and embrace whoever the Doctor is now. Which I’ve struggled with in the past, after Matt Smith I was devastated for a while and ended up just binging 12 and 13 a little begrudgingly, but I’m gonna follow 15 along his way, and it’s gonna be different and weird and good. It’s always good. 

15, let’s get it.

[loveroftoomanyfandoms]

Angel of God, My Guardian Dear Chapter 19: Matt

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+, MINORS DNI)

Story Summary: While speaking at a local school for visually impaired youth, Matt runs into his childhood best friend, with whom he lost touch almost 20 years prior.

Warning/Tags: None for this chapter.

Word Count: ~ 3600 (Catholic weddings are LONG, y'all.)

A/N: The big day is here! Only one more chapter to go...

"10 minutes until you say 'I do'," Foggy said as Matt finished getting ready for his wedding to Y/N. "I'm honestly surprised you two didn't elope."

Matt chuckled as he adjusted his tie. "We briefly discussed it but Y/N said she wanted to get married in the church with all of our friends and family there."

He smiled to himself. His proposal had gone off without a hitch and he and Y/N had quickly set a wedding date. "Maybe Aunt Ruth and I could start looking at wedding dresses while she's here for Thanksgiving next week," Y/N had said as they lay together in post-engagement coital bliss, her head on Matt's chest as he traced gentle patterns along her bare back.

Matt had nodded. "That sounds like a good idea."

Y/N had looked up at him. "What do you think about the end of April for our wedding? My lease will be up then so it kind of feels like the perfect time to get married."

A smile had spread across Matt's face. "April sounds nice. Want to call the church in the morning to see what dates they have open?"

"Mmm. Mmhmm."

They had called Clinton Church first thing the next morning and booked their wedding date for the end of April.

"5 months until we say 'I do',"  Y/N had said after they had hung up.

Matt had wrapped his arms around Y/N, his heart fluttering at the contented hum she had made. "I can't wait."

He mentally shook his head. "How do I look?"

Foggy patted him on the shoulder. "Like a man who's about to get hitched."

Matt grinned, nervous excitement flitting around his stomach. "Thanks again for your help this morning."

"Of course, buddy, anytime."

Suddenly there was a knock on the door. "Matt?" Aunt Ruth's voice called out. "May I come in?"

"Yeah, Aunt Ruth, come on in," Matt replied, turning towards the door as it opened. 

"Oh my goodness, don't you look handsome," Aunt Ruth said. "And Foggy, you as well."

"Thanks, Ms. Y/L/N," Foggy replied.

"Matt, Y/N would like to speak with you before the ceremony begins."

Matt's blood turned to ice in his veins. Shit, did she change her mind? "Is she okay?"

"Oh yes, everything is fine, dear, I promise," Aunt Ruth reassured him. "Y/N just decided that she wants a private moment with you before you say 'I do'." 

Matt let out a breath and nodded. "Okay."

Aunt Ruth led him down the hall to another room. "I'll see you in a bit, okay?"

Matt nodded and took a deep breath as Aunt Ruth walked away, then knocked softly on the door. "Y/N?"

"Come in," Y/N's voice replied.

Matt opened the door and stepped inside.

He could hear the gentle swish of Y/N's wedding dress as she turned towards him. "Hi, Matty."

"Hi, angel," Matt replied, still nervous that Y/N might have changed her mind about marrying him. "Is everything okay? Aunt Ruth said you needed to talk to me."

Y/N took his hand. "Yeah, sweetheart, everything's fine. I'm sorry if I scared you, I just… I wanted to show you something really quick."

She took a deep breath. "Remember how back when we were kids, all of our personal belongings were labeled with our names?"

Matt nodded. Y/N had helped him keep track of his stuff until he was able to put Braille labels on everything.

Y/N lifted Matt's hand up to the bodice of her dress, right where her heart steadily beat. "My heart has belonged to you since the moment we met."

Matt's brow furrowed as he traced the familiar bumps of Braille writing. M-a-t-t-h-e-w.

"It's in red to match our wedding colors," Y/N explained.

A broad smile spread across Matt's face and he shook his head, fighting the urge to start crying. "I really love you, you know that?" 

Y/N let out a light laugh. "That's good to know, sweetheart, especially considering that we're supposed to be getting married in less than 5 minutes."

Matt grinned. "I better run then. I don't want to spend a minute more than I absolutely have to without you as my wife."

Y/N pressed a kiss to his cheek. "I'll see you in a few minutes."

Matt nodded. "I'll be waiting."

"Love you."

Matt slipped out of the room and headed back down the hall.

"Hey, everything okay?" Foggy asked him as he re-entered his own waiting area.

Matt nodded, unable to keep a smile off of his face. "Yeah, everything's perfect."

Foggy let out a sigh of relief. "Okay, good. Ready then? It's time."

Matt nodded again. "More than ready."

"Alright, let's go get you married."

He and Foggy headed into the church and took their places at the front of the altar, and a few moments later, a soft melody started playing.

Matt waited as Father Davis took his place as officiant, followed by Karen as Y/N's maid of honor, then Harley, Y/N's coworker Jessica's son, as ring bearer and Sophie as flower girl.

He took a deep breath as the doors opened once again and the Bridal March began.

A smile spread across his face as Y/N began her walk towards him.

As she approached, Matt thought back to that first moment they had met. He had immediately known that she was the answer to his prayer, but he hadn't quite realized at the time that he had also been hers.

He held his hand out to Y/N as she reached him, pressing a kiss to the top of her hand before turning to face Father Davis.

"Good afternoon," Father Davis said.

"Good afternoon, Father," everyone replied.

"In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit."

"Amen."

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to witness Matthew and Y/N join together in holy matrimony. Let us begin with our opening prayer."

Y/N and Matt bowed their heads as Father Davis raised a hand over them. "Dear Heavenly Father," he began, "we ask your blessing down upon Matthew and Y/N as they pledge their lives to one another through the sacrament of marriage. May they look to you for guidance in all that they do, in your name, amen."

"Amen," everyone repeated.

"Please be seated."

Matt and Y/N knelt hand-in-hand on the portable kneeler as everyone sat and Aunt Ruth walked up to do the first reading.

"A reading from the Book of Genesis," she began. "The Lord God said, 'It is not good for man to be alone. I shall make a suitable partner for him. So the Lord formed out of the ground various wild animals and birds of the air'…"

Matt subtly turned his head towards Y/N, who was glancing over at him. 

He gave her hand a squeeze, their silent signal for I love you.

Y/N squeezed his hand back twice in response. I love you too.

"The word of the Lord," Aunt Ruth finished.

Matt turned his attention back to the lectern. "Thanks be to God."

Everyone answered the responsorial psalm, then Foggy walked up to do the second reading. 

He cleared his throat. " A reading from the first letter from St. Paul to the Corinthians.

'If I speak in the tongues of mortals and of angels, but do not have love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. And if I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. If I give away all my possessions, and if I hand over my body so that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing.

Love is patient; love is kind; love is not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice in wrongdoing, but rejoices in the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things."

Matt smiled to himself. By that definition, Y/N was love, and Matt was the luckiest man on earth by getting to have her for the rest of his life.

"Love never ends," Foggy continued. "But as for prophecies, they will come to an end; as for tongues, they will cease; as for knowledge, it will come to an end. For we know only in part, and we prophesy only in part; but when the complete comes, the partial will come to an end. 

Faith, hope, and love abide, these three; and the greatest of these is love'."

He went to step down then caught himself. "Uh, the word of the Lord."

"Thanks be to God," Matt replied with a grin.

Next followed the Gospel Acclamation, then the Gospel.

Matt and Y/N stayed kneeling while everyone else sat for the homily.

"I haven't had the privilege of knowing Matthew and Y/N for very long," Father Davis began, "but from what their loved ones have told me, it's about time they got married."

Matt grinned and nodded in agreement as their wedding guests chuckled.

"From my understanding, they met as young children and immediately became inseparable," Father Davis continued, "as only truly best friends can be…"

Matt listened as Father Davis continued tying his and Y/N relationship to the readings.

"God has brought Matthew and Y/N together not once, but twice, and so here we are today, celebrating their love and commitment to one another," Father Davis concluded, turning towards them. "Matthew and Y/N, may you continue to love and support one another all the days of your lives."

Matt nodded and gave Y/N's hand a squeeze.

Father Davis sat for a moment in silent reflection, then stood once again. "Please rise."

Matt and Y/N stood and faced one another. Here we go.

"Matthew and Y/N," Father Davis said, "you have come together into the house of the Church so that in the presence of the Church’s minister and the community your intention to enter into Marriage may be strengthened by the Lord with a sacred seal. Christ abundantly blesses the love that binds you. Through a special Sacrament, he enriches and strengthens those he has already consecrated by Holy Baptism, that they may be faithful to each other forever and assume all the responsibilities of married life. And so, in the presence of the Church, I ask you to state your intentions."

He then went through the standard questions about whether Matt and Y/N were there of their own free will, whether they agreed to love, honor and cherish each other, and whether they would welcome any children they were blessed with, all to which both Matt and Y/N answered in the affirmative.

Father Davis nodded. "Since it is your intention to enter into the sacrament of Holy Matrimony, please join your right hands."

Matt smiled as Y/N took his hand in hers.

"Matthew, do you take Y/N to be your wife?" Father Davis asked. "Do you promise to be faithful to her in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, to love her and to honor her all the days of your life?"

Matt nodded, a broad smile on his face. "I do."

His smile grew even wider as he heard Y/N's heart flutter.

"And do you, Y/N, take Matthew to be your husband?" Father Davis asked Y/N. "Do you promise to be faithful to him in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, to love him and to honor him all the days of your life?"

"I do," Y/N replied, the love and adoration in her voice music to Matt's ears.

"Then may the Lord in his kindness strengthen the consent you have declared before the Church and graciously bring to fulfillment his blessings within you," Father Davis continued. "What God has joined, let no one tear asunder."

Matt couldn't help but grin. We did it. We're married.

Foggy stepped around Matt and handed their rings to Father Davis.

Father Davis sprinkled some holy water over their rings. "Bless and sanctify your servants in their love, O Lord, and let these rings, a sign of their faithfulness, remind them of their love for one another.

Through Christ our Lord."

"Amen," Matt and Y/N said together.

Father Davis handed Matt Y/N's ring. "Matthew, place this ring on Y/N's left hand and repeat after me: ' Y/N, receive this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity'. "

Matt took Y/N's hand and slid her wedding band next to her engagement ring. "Y/N, receive this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity."

"And Y/N," Father Davis continued, "place this ring on Matthew's left hand and repeat after me: 'Matthew, receive this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity'."

Y/N slid Matt's ring onto his finger, the cool metal a comforting weight against his skin. "Matthew, receive this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity."

Matt grinned. While they were shopping for their wedding rings he had been fully prepared for Y/N to just choose a ring for him and be done with it, but instead Y/N had had him try on rings made from all sorts of materials and in all sorts of designs until Matt had found the one he was most comfortable with wearing.

You're the one who has to wear it for the rest of your life, she had said, so shouldn't your comfort be the most important thing?

He turned his attention back towards the altar as Karen walked up to do the Intercessions. "Please respond, 'Lord hear our prayer', " she said.

"Lord hear our prayer," everyone replied automatically.

"For Matthew and Y/N, may they continue to grow and love one another through the faith of their Church, we pray to the Lord."

"Lord hear our prayer."

"For the souls of Matt's father and Y/N's mother, may they rest in peace knowing that their children have found solace in one another, we pray to the Lord."

"Lord hear our prayer."

"For all those in need of intercession, we pray to the Lord."

"Lord hear our prayer."

"We now pause to add our own intentions in silence." Karen paused for a few moments. "We pray to the Lord."

"Lord hear our prayer."

Father Davis waited as Karen took her place back at Y/N's side, then said, "Let us now share the words that Jesus taught us to pray."

Everyone recited the Lord's Prayer, then Father Davis moved back in front of Y/N and Matt. "Matthew and Y/N, please kneel and join hands."

Matt took Y/N's hand in his, grinning as she ran her thumb over his ring.

"Let us pray to the Lord for this bride and groom," Father Davis said, "who kneel at the altar as they begin their married life, that they may always be bound together by love for one another."

After a moment of silence, he continued. "Holy Father, maker of the whole world, who created man and woman in your own image and willed that their union be crowned with your blessing, we humbly beseech you for these your servants, who are joined today in the Sacrament of Matrimony.

May your abundant blessing, Lord, come down upon this bride, Y/N, and upon Matthew, her companion for life, and may the power of your Holy Spirit set their hearts aflame from on high, so that, living out together the gift of Matrimony, they may adorn their family with children and enrich the Church."

"Amen," everyone added.

"Matthew and Y/N, please rise."

Matt grinned as they stood.

"By the power vested in me by the state of New York, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Matthew, you may kiss your bride."

Matt turned towards Y/N and cupped her face in his hands, then pressed his lips to hers. My wife.

"It is my pleasure to present, for the first time ever, Mr. and Mrs. Matthew and Y/N Murdock!" Father Davis continued.

Matt took Y/N's hand in his as they headed back down the aisle.

Y/N gave him another kiss as they reached the end. "I love you so much, Matty."

Matt hummed happily. "I love you too, my angel."

They made their way back around to the altar so they could sign their marriage license and take their wedding photos before walking over to the church's event center for their reception.

Matt grinned over at Y/N as they waited in the lobby for the deejay to announce their arrival. "You think anyone will notice if we skip the reception?"

Y/N huffed out a laugh. "Ready to get our honeymoon started, huh?"

Matt smirked. "Something like that."

"Well considering we're the center of attention and we have our first dance, then the toasts, cake cutting and bouquet toss and our last dance… yeah I think we'd be missed."

Matt took her hand as the deejay turned the music down to speak. "...Please welcome to the dance floor, Mr. & Mrs. Matthew and Y/N Murdock!"

The doors to the event center opened and Matt and Y/N walked in, taking their place in the center of the dance floor.

Matt smiled at Y/N as the music for their first dance started. "May I have this dance, Mrs. Murdock?"

His smile grew wider at the uptick in Y/N's heartbeat. "Why, yes you may, Mr. Murdock," Y/N replied.

Matt pulled her close as they began to sway.

"I'll always remember, the song they were playing

The first time we danced, and I knew

As we swayed to the music, and held to each other

I fell in love with you

Could I have this dance for the rest of my life?

Could you be my partner every night?

When we're together, it feels so right

Could I have this dance for the rest of my life?

I'll always remember, that magic moment

When I held you close to me

As we moved together, I knew forever

You're all I'll ever need

Could I have this dance for the rest of my life?

Could you be my partner every night?

When we're together, it feels so right

Could I have this dance for the rest of my life?

Could I have this dance for the rest of my life?

Could you be my partner every night?

When we're together, it feels so right

Could I have this dance for the rest of my life?"

Matt wiped away a tear from Y/N's eye as the song came to an end, then pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. "Every single one, angel," he murmured. 

Y/N sniffled. "Me too, Matty."

"Come on, sweetheart, let's go eat."

They had decided on a catered buffet for their reception, so they were served their dinner then went to take their seats at the head table.

The deejay turned the music down once again. "Ladies and gentlemen, the best man would like to say a few words."

Matt turned towards Foggy as he stood.

Foggy cleared his throat. "Matt, when you first mentioned Y/N way back in law school I thought you had to have been making her up -- this perfect childhood friend who you had fallen in love with but never got the chance to tell that you loved her."

Matt took Y/N's hand and gave it a squeeze.

"Well," Foggy continued, "it took 16 years but I eventually found out she really did exist, and she's every bit as wonderful as you always described her."

"Aww, thanks, Fog," Y/N said.

Foggy picked up his glass of champagne. "I'd like to raise a glass to the newlyweds. Thank you for letting me be a part of your big day and I love you both -- mazel tov! "

"Cheers!" everyone echoed.

Karen gave a brief speech next, then Y/N said a few words. 

Finally, Matt stood.

"First, I'd like to thank everyone for being here to share in Y/N's and my big day," he began. "I know I can speak for us both when I say that we appreciate each and every one of you for being here to celebrate our wedding with us."

He turned to Foggy and Karen. "Foggy and Karen, we have been through hell and back together and I couldn't have asked for anyone better to stand by my & Y/N's sides as we pledged our lives to each other."

He turned back to Aunt Ruth, who sat at Y/N's other side. "Aunt Ruth, thank you for welcoming me to the family with open arms and for giving me your blessing to marry Y/N."

He smiled down at Y/N. "And finally, Y/N, my beautiful wife. I have loved you since before I even knew what love was and promise that I will show you every single day just how grateful I am that I get to spend the rest of my life with you. Thank you for loving me in return."

Everyone applauded and made "aww" sounds as Y/N stood and cupped Matt's face in her hands, pressing her lips to his. "You're determined to make me cry, aren't you?" she said.

Matt kissed her back. "Only happy tears, angel, I promise."

They sat back down until it was time to cut the cake and do the bouquet and garter toss.

Karen caught Y/N's bouquet, and if Matt purposely made sure that Foggy caught Y/N's garter so that he and Karen would be forced to dance with each other instead of around each other… well.

He just wanted his friends to be as happy as he was, that was all.

Finally the deejay announced the final dance of the evening.

Matt held Y/N close once again as the music played, then finally it was time for their big send-off.

Matt grinned as they got ready to leave. He had a surprise for Y/N and couldn't wait to give it to her.

[maybebecomingms]

715-husband

January 29, 2024

I was thinking back to a church small group I was in over 10 years ago where the leader had unexpectedly become a close friend of mine. (People also sometimes got us confused for each other, too, which baffled me. I always thought she was way cooler and prettier than me, and I didn't understand why she liked me at all!)

Anyway, I was thinking about how we shared really personal stuff about our sex lives with each other at the time. She was a registered nurse (physician's assistant now!) and I remember my first post-nuptial pregnancy scare. I had an IUD, and she said "Sam, you know it's like a bowling alley in there, right? Nothing's gonna stick."

I remember talking her down off the ledge from at least one pregnancy scare, too (she did later go on to have one child). I remember talking about my frustration when my ex husband mistakenly assumed I was some wild, adventurous woman in the bedroom because of my "past," when I was mostly just terrified. "It's like... slow down, boy scout," she lamented. I remember her talking about how she underwent an entire physical therapy program in attempt to treat the chronic pain she had with sex. I often thought about doing something similar.

Anyway, she's divorced now, too.

I was thinking about how apparently evangelical folks experience vaginismus at a rate THREE TIMES higher than non-religious folks. I was thinking about how the Christian literature that was our church's bread and butter taught that women *might* enjoy sex, and that's cute and all, but men literally require it and will wither and die if you say no even once. You are defiling your marriage and denying Christ. Among this advice was that it's a woman's job to give hand jobs if she is postpartum and cannot safely have intercourse. As if she is somehow at fault for having pushed a whole 'nother human out of her body and owes him one?!

I was thinking about how viewing porn and masturbation are grave sins in those circles, and if you're going to utilize either, you might as well be cheating on your spouse. Don't get me wrong - I know both can be harmful under certain circumstances, and that porn especially can cause one's partner to feel betrayed. But to say that taking care of your own needs is sinful and forcing your exhausted wife to do it for you is godly seems more than a little fucked.

I was thinking about all of these things and sometimes I'm impressed that I found my way out as well as I did. That it wasn't a whole lot worse than it ended up being. I didn't need physical therapy, or any sort of special equipment. I just needed to feel safe and try things out on my own terms.

I hope my friend was or is able to do the same, if that is something she wants to do.

And I hope everyone influenced by purity culture is able to break free, whatever that looks like for them.

[writeyouin]

Back to the Future - Outta Time (One Shot)

Description: When Marty is faced with the death of his father, he runs to the Doc for comfort.

A/N – So, when I went to London, I saw the Back to the Future Musical. It’s my new fave musical and it rekindles my obsession with the franchise.

Warnings – Angst.

Rating – T

Marty had thought of a lot of things since he first met Doc Brwon, and the two had taken part in various adventures together.

He had thought about the many different lifetimes and ways upon which they had both met in other timelines, he had considered the various experiments they might attempt in their lives, and he had even wondered what it would one day be like to have the Doc serve as his best man when he was ready to marry Jennifer.

In all his imaginings of events past, present, and future, he had never thought about the day he was currently faced with. Yet, as he sat in the front pew of the church, one of only six people at Doc Brown’s funeral (unless you counted Doc’s dog Einstein who made their number seven), he didn’t know what to say, but he would have to figure it out soon since the priest would soon call upon him to make a speech about Doctor Emmett Brown and who he had been in life.

Jennifer squeezed Marty’s hand, and he turned to look at her, silent tears falling from his eyes as his mouth sat slightly ajar, his bottom lip quivering against the onslaught of sorrow.

Past Jennifer were Marty’s family, and the only other people to attend the funeral. While it was a relief to have them there, Marty couldn’t help but wonder about the family he had left behind in his original timeline, and where they would have been on this very day had he not accidentally changed the events wherein his mother had fallen in love with his father.

His original, unchanged family probably wouldn’t have been there. That George McFly would have been stuck at home, doing Biff’s busy work, his mother Lorraine would likely have been drunk and his siblings… Well, they probably would have told Marty that he was wasting his time mourning an insane disgraced physicist and that it was probably for the best that such a lonely old man was gone.

It wasn’t fair to imagine his family like that when they were here for him now, but Marty couldn’t help it; after all, this more successful, happier family had only been his for a little over two years.

“And now, we in the church would like to hear a few words from Emmett Brown’s dear friend, Marty McFly,” The priest said, standing aside from the podium where he had been delivering the Doc’s last rites.

Marty rose quickly to his feet and jerkily made his way to the podium. He couldn’t help hating the Priest for getting that last part wrong. Granted, the Doc’s name was Emmett, but he should have always been called Doc, first and foremost; Doc was proud to be a scientist and he shouldn’t lose his doctorate even in death.

“Uh- Hello- Hel- Ah- Hi,” Marty waved awkwardly.

“I need to say a few words about the Doc, and uh-”

This wasn’t right. None of this was right.

“And uh,” Marty repeated, his throat dry as he stared past the audience of only five people, picking a spot on the far wall in an attempt to focus.

“Uh-” He tried again, his vision blurring as his eyes welled up with tears.

Then it occurred to him.

There was a time machine with his name on it. A Delorian which he could use. There had been timelines where it was destroyed, one where it was marketed, and at least four wherein the Doc had gone back to the Wild West and traded in the Delorian for a train and a family, but as far as this Marty McFly was aware, there was only the Delorian, and it could give him more time with Doc.

“Excuse me for a minute,” Marty breathed half-heartedly before running from the church.

Jennifer got up to go after him as well as his mother, but his father shook his head, indicating that Marty probably just needed a minute.

10 MPH.

Marty had barely started the car, having only set the date for a few days earlier, when the Doc had seemed so alive and well like there was nothing wrong with him.

30 MPH.

Time travel had saved both him and the Doc in the past. Logically, he knew that there was no saving the Doc from this one, with no cure for old age, but he still needed to see his best friend.

55 MPH.

This probably wasn’t a good idea. A therapist would likely say that this wouldn’t lead to closure and that it was unhealthy for Marty to be doing something so impulsive and stupid; then again, what kind of therapist even knew about time travel?

88 MPH.

As usual at this speed, Marty was going to see some serious shit.

Once Marty was back in the past, he parked the Delorian and ran to the bungalow where Doc Brown lived, letting himself in amidst one of Doc Brown’s more stable experiments.

“Marty!” Doc lit up upon seeing his protégé, “You’re just in time! See what happens to this grape when I-”

Marty crushed the Doc in a hug, crying into his shoulder.

Doc Brown’s arms went wide, uncertain of what they were supposed to do in such a situation wherein social etiquette was not his second nature. After a minute, he closed his arms around Marty, patting him on the back twice before he simply held onto the boy.

“Marty, what’s wrong, my boy?”

Marty shook his head, for once too riled up for the right words to come out. He couldn’t tell the Doc what was wrong. If he did, he would spend his last days thinking about his impending death and that wouldn’t be fair.

All the same, though the Doc wasn’t well versed in reading people, he knew Marty and he understood that such an outburst could only be linked to something tragic. So, even though it would have probably been wiser to simply wait until Marty was ready to talk, he began guessing at the problem.

“It’s your family?” He astutely tried, earning another muffled sob from Marty. “Your sister? No, mother? …Father?”

Marty only cried harder at that so Doc pressed on.

“If I am correct in my observations Marty… Well, I-” Doc Brown didn’t want to provide his hypothesis; after all, he had only seen Marty so worked up in an alternate timeline… one wherein Marty’s father had tragically expired early thanks to Biff.

All the same, Marty was young and if he couldn’t outright say what was on his mind, then perhaps it would help if Doc said it for him, “Your- Your father has passed away… Am I right?”

Marty clung tightly to the Doc. He was the man who had always been there for him, through every timeline, and he had never given up on Marty, even when nobody else believed in him. The Doc was more like a father to Marty than anyone else, which wasn’t really fair to his newly confident biological father, but then again, that version of George McFly wasn’t the man who had raised him.

“Yeah Doc,” Marty answered after a minute. “My dad died.”

Doc Brown stroked Marty’s back, “Tell me what you need.”

“Can I just stay here for a while?” He asked in a small voice that made him sound ten years younger, more a child than almost a man.

“Of course, whatever you need, my boy.”

[piratekane]

#10 from the angst/fluff sentence list, por favor

ten: don't scare me like that

Beatrice wakes to an empty bed. It's quiet, the soft click of the cuckoo clock Ava swore they needed the only sound in the apartment. She blinks a few times until the shapes of the furniture come into focus: the end of the bed and the dresser next to it, the small end table on her side with its clock and a single glass of water and the slightly messier one on Ava's side with two dog-eared books and three empty water bottles.

Her body aches a little when she sits up, but she ignores the pull of a tender muscle. This is their home now, from the cuckoo clock to the various number of shoes Ava wears on a daily basis by the door; from the sink Beatrice likes to keep clean to the couch with a cigarette hole in the back; from the yellowing refrigerator in the kitchen to the magnets Ava insists on collecting despite not having anything to hang up. This is their home, for better or for worse.

She said that once and Ava lit up, launching into her dream vows which led to her dream wedding which led to her dream proposal. Predictably, Ava's vows seemed to be very long-winded. Unpredictably, she didn't seem to want some elaborate proposal. No flash mob, no scavenger hunt through the city. Just... something private. Simple.

A traitorous part of Beatrice, the one she doesn't listen to, did not file that information away. She simply left it out of the dossier she's building on Ava.

Ava is- Beatrice stops, looking at the other side of the bed. Ava is missing.

It doesn't immediately alarm her. Ava wouldn't have left the apartment. Not after the first time she did and Beatrice nearly tore apart the town looking for her. Beatrice finally found her at the large fountain in front of the church at the northeast corner of town, staring at her moonlight reflection in the water.

I just felt... small, Ava had told her. Home just felt too boxed in.

Beatrice had made her swear - on her life, on Beatrice's life - that she wouldn't do that again. That if she needed to leave, she needed to tell Beatrice and they would go together.

What if I need personal space? Ava had asked, an amused smile on her face. Beatrice had barely looked at her. We don't need personal space from each other, she said firmly.

Ava had hummed quietly, a strange but small smile on her face. But she hadn't said anything, hadn't said she was upset about it or that she wasn't going to follow along with that; that there were already so many rules she had to follow, this one would be her tipping point.

The next time she woke up and wanted to go, she woke Beatrice up with a soft shake of her shoulders and they walked with whispering footsteps through the quiet of town until they came to a country road. They watched the sun coming up and didn't speak.

It was the most peace Beatrice had felt in years.

So Ava must be here, in the apartment. She might be in the bathroom, or in the living room. Sometimes she sits on the couch with her phone's flashlight on and reads the books she picks up for Beatrice, the ones she swears she'd never read. Sometimes, she's at the kitchen table with the German newspaper spread out in front of her, teaching herself to read German. Ava, Beatrice has noticed, collects skills - years of being held at someone else's whim limiting the scope of her learning. And she seems to be catching up for lost time, learning languages of passing tourists and reading Descartes when she doesn't think Beatrice is looking.

Ava, it seems, has a thirst for knowledge that no one expected. Beatrice finds it equal parts endearing and something else that confuses her.

Beatrice swings her legs around, feet quiet on the hardwood floor. From her side of the bed - I sleep closest to the door, she told Ava, no room for arguing. My hero, Ava said with a hand on Beatrice's shoulder, squeezing gently - she can see the soft yellow light of the open refrigerator.

So, a midnight snack. Beatrice pads softly across the bedroom floor. She doesn't walk with heavy feet, like Ava, and the planks don't creak under her feet. Years of stealth work keeps her feet light, her steps nearly invisible. So Ava doesn't hear her ease into the living space, doesn't hear her brush a hand against the back of the worn chair. She doesn't hear Beatrice slip into the kitchen and she doesn't hear when Beatrice reaches forward to touch her gently on the shoulder, to let Ava know she's here.

Ava screams at the same time as she reaches up and grabs Beatrice's wrist, twisting it until it hurts and spinning Beatrice around until her hips hit the back of a kitchen chair.

She's startled for a moment, the air in her lungs caught in her chest in a tight block. It takes her another moment - Ava keeps pushing her forward. The chair clatters to the ground and then she's up against the kitchen table - before she manages to come back to her senses, grabbing the kitchen table and using her momentum to spin around.

It pulls Ava, hand still at her back, close. The pressure at her hips is replaced by the warmth of Ava, suddenly panting in her face. They both struggle for air, unsure of how to breathe together, before Ava's mouth closes with a snap.

"Jesus fuck, Bea," Ava hisses. She immediately drops Beatrice's wrist and brings it up between them, cradling it as she rubs her thumbs over the bone. "What were you thinking?"

Beatrice has the forethought to be a little embarrassed. Of course Ava didn't hear her coming; Ava probably thought she was still asleep in bed. "I'm sorry," she says quickly. "I shouldn't have-"

"Don't scare me like that." Ava sighs, blowing air up into her hair. It settles around her forehead, these loose strands falling out of her half-up ponytail. Beatrice is transfixed by them, doesn't catch half of what Ava says until Ava clears her throat.

"I'm sorry," she says again.

The wrinkle of frustration in Ava's eyes clears. "Just... can you wear a bell, or something?" She tips her head to one side. "Are you okay? Did I hurt you?"

Beatrice looks down at Ava's fingers, still working in gentle circles. "No," she says breathlessly. Stop it, a stern voice in her head says.

This voice is loud. It tells her to stop being foolish. That they have a mission here, that Ava's life - and the lives of countless others - depend on her ignoring whatever feelings might be brewing under the surface; that there's no time for this, not when the world may very well end.

Her voice is a little steadier when she says, "No," again. "I'm fine. I didn't mean to scare you."

Ava laughs a little. "Were you just testing my reaction?"

"No. But it was quite good," she admits. "That scream certainly... distracted me."

Ava's smile is wide now. "See? I knew I could use that to my advantage."

"Though phasing would have been better," Beatrice can't help but point out. Yes, focus, that voice demands.

Ava doesn't seem to mind the advice. "I don't know. I thought I did a good job. I totally had you on your back foot. So you better tell Mother Superion that the next time you talk to her."

"I will," Beatrice promises. She looks down at the paper-thin space between their bodies. She feels hers flush and clears her throat, stepping back. Ava is in a thin shirt, no bra, and a pair of the shortest shorts Beatrice has ever seen. "Uh, we should-"

Ava looks down. "Ha," she says flatly. "Let me stop manhandling you, okay?" She drops her hand from Beatrice's wrist and takes a step back. Cool air rushes in in her place. Beatrice fights a shiver. "Did you need a snack too?"

Beatrice takes a moment to collect herself. "No. I was looking for you."

Ava's smile starts to stretch again. "Awh, did you miss me?"

Her face flushes. "No."

"You missed your cuddle buddy." Ava wiggles her eyebrows suggestively. "Are you going to include that in your report to Mother Superion?"

"No," Beatrice says breathlessly. She clears her throat and takes a deep breath. She sounds steadier the next time she speaks. "We're not... cuddle buddies."

"But we could be." Ava holds up a hand when Beatrice opens her mouth. "Just... think about it. I've got a strong application and honestly, you're not going to do better than me. And before you say anything, everyone needs one. Even Mother Superion." She reaches for Beatrice's hand again. "Just trust me."

She does. She does. But that voice is so loud. It stops her from saying yes, she's been thinking about what it might be like to wrap her arms around Ava in the dark. Yes, she's been wondering what it would feel like to curl up with her on the couch and let Ava read to her. Instead, she smiles tighter than she feels and covers Ava's hand with her own.

"I'll be in bed."

Ava seems to hear a note of finality in her voice because she smiles just a little sadly and nods once, letting Beatrice go. "I'm craving pickles," she says instead. "So let me just grab one and I'll be right in." She doesn't wait for an answer, turning her attention back to the open refrigerator.

Beatrice watches her struggle with the tin lid for a moment, caught up in the way Ava's tongue pokes out of her mouth slightly. She swallows hard past the feeling in her throat and makes herself turn, slipping back through the apartment and into bed. She listens to the lid go back on the pickles, listens to the refrigerator close, to Ava's loud footsteps across the apartment.

And when Ava rolls over and reaches for her hand in the dark, Beatrice reasons with herself that if that's all she's doing it, it's fine. The lines are still drawn. She's still protecting Ava, still trying to mold her into the fighter they need her to be. She's doing her job, her duty. Ava needs to be able to trust her, to know that Beatrice has her best interests in mind, that she trusts Ava just as much. And holding hands in the dark, if that's what does it, is what she needs to do.

Beatrice hangs onto that thought until sleep takes her over again.

[seijuroraizel]

So, I don't speak a lot here or anywhere, but today, I want to speak about the "brave" and "honest" person you might know here as muttpeeta or as attheredmind on AO3 which I had the unfortunate experience of following someone like her for a couple years now without knowing the kind of person she is.

So, following some meaningless squabble about New York Times POTT, someone brought up to her attention -or she might have addressed that herself- that people associated with the current genocide going on in Gaza AND West Bank (where there is no KHAMAS!) Were more deserving to get the award or title whatever, since the newspaper gave it to president Zel of Ukraine last year. atthered mind didn't like that apparently, so she answered by some nonsense and amidst her replies to the anons she claimed she is neutral and that she sympathize with the "people suffering in Gaza and Israel". But then she followed that sweet talk with tags accusing the Palastinian and Gaza's side of committing crimes of murder and rape against "Jews". Now notice the stereotypes which she uses. Saying Jews instead of Israeli. As if the Palestinians are targeting all jews. And no Jews stand against Israel.

Then in another reply, she simplified the situation as "war" between Muslims and Jews.

She was so upset about ppl calling her out about that as anons and wanted someone to confront her by their names. So I did. And guess what, she run away and blocked me 🙂😂

But sorry muttpeeta, I'm not letting your Zionist propaganda slide. And everything will be backed by actual evidence and sources -Israeli ones too- and not words in the air.

So first things first. Muttpeeta claims about rape and murder were addressed multiple times by both Palastinian and Israeli sides. Israeli government said they found no evidence of sexual assault. Image from The Times of Israel.

On the other hand, there are uncountable vitrified cases of rape crimes by the Israeli military, but Muttpeeta won't mention that ofc

And I think we can determine the truth of these claims, on both sides, from the statements of women held captive.

The murder... there sure was murdering cases by Palastinian personals in that day. Which I personals considered grave mistakes that need punishment. And Gaza's government stated that those actions -and civilians kidnapping by the way too- were against the orders given. Also that most of these cases were carried out by persons not affiliated with Hamas. But to claim that all the dead were civilians and by Hamas hands? Look for yourselves. The white names are civilians, and the yellow are military

Ok, are we certain all tgese were killed by Hamas? No. In more than one statement, Israeli officials and officers in their panic revealed that Israeli army killed civilians that day

Watch

While Hamas condemned killing and kidnapping civilians, you will find the Israeli government shamelessly calling to use nuclear on Gaza, or kill 150 thousand of its population or calling these people human animals... things you would have heard of from Hitler and his Nazis.

Muttpeeta didn't like when Intold her this.

Finally, this is not war between "Muslims and Jewish" this is a genocide carried out by one of the strongest armies in the world, backed up by superpowers innthe world against Palastinians who have no water, electricity, medicine, food let alone an army to defend them. This is a genocide against Palastinians, Muslims AND Christians. Just 10 days ago Israeli bombes one of the oldest churches in the world, killing many of the ppl who were seeking a safe place there.

Here is a great video from President Carter about Palastine

And for further informations I would recommend this video here

It has English caption. It's long but worth it. And it's all from Israeli sources.

I would also strongly recommend following Norman Finkelstein, Miko Peled, Noam Chomsky, who are ALL Jews, and Miko even Israeli, but they have the humanity in them to stand against Zionism and its genocidal agend.

To Muttpeeta, next time, either be contented with anon replies (I wasn't one of them, btw) or be brave enough to continue a debate once you start it. I hope someone, even if anon delivers this to her or it reaches her, is in any way.