#many are just trying to make enough money to get by

[lnracer]

Hey babe, I have a little request if you’re open to it !!

Could you maybe write something Kimi Antonelli x fem!reader where she’s still in high school and doesn’t come from money at all? Like she feels super out of place in his world — all the hotels, race weekends, the fancy people, and she kind of feels like she’s not “enough.”

But he’s just… soft. Gentle. The kind of guy who makes her feel safe, like she does belong, even when everything feels overwhelming.

I’d love something comforting, maybe with a tiny bit of angst because… identity crisis hits hard sometimes. I just feel like we don’t get enough of that dynamic. Golden boy driver and the girl who still takes the bus to school. No pressure at all! But if it ever inspires you… I will cry. In the best way.

Thank you so much if you do fill my request and of course I understand if you don’t. Have a lovely day!

Pairing: Kimi Antonelli x High Schooler! Female Reader.

Warnings: Mild angst with a happy ending, emotional arguments, self-doubt/insecurity, class difference/social disparity and hurt/comfort.

Word Count: 2.164k.

a/n: Ahh, thank you so much for the request! 🥹 It's really not the kind of dynamic I usually see around here, but I loved writing about it and I hope I was able to capture what you imagined (even the saddest and most complicated parts) I hope you like it! ☺️🩵

Her heels clicked softly against the pristine pavement of the Monte Carlo paddock, the sound nearly swallowed by the hum of engines and a buzz of conversation laced with designer perfume. She tugged at the hem of her floral sundress — a soft, pretty thing she’d found on sale weeks ago — and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, trying not to flinch under the eyes that passed over her.

They weren’t cruel. Not exactly. Just curious. Polished. Intrigued.

She knew how she looked next to them — tall women with sleek blowouts, tailored blazers thrown over slinky minidresses, legs that disappeared into Louboutins. Everything about them screamed expensive.

And then there was her. Pretty, sure. But simple. Sweet. A soft pink lip gloss in a sea of sharp red lips.

Kimi noticed. He always noticed.

“Hey,” he said as he reached her side, sunglasses pushing up into his curls. His hand found her waist like it was muscle memory, warm and easy. “You okay?”

She nodded quickly, offering a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Just… not really used to all this.” Her voice was quiet, almost swallowed by the luxury around them. “It’s a lot.”

Kimi’s jaw tensed, just slightly. He saw the way her gaze dropped whenever another glamazon strutted by, saw the way she folded inward, like she was trying to shrink herself.

He leaned in, voice low so only she could hear. “You don’t have to be like them. I don’t want you to be like them.”

She looked up at him, surprised.

“I like your dress,” he added, brushing a finger down the strap of her sundress. “I like that you’re here, even when it’s not easy. I know this world is loud. But you make it feel quiet.”

She blinked, heart stuttering at the way he looked at her — like she was calm in the chaos.

And in that moment, even surrounded by gold watches and camera flashes, she started to believe that maybe… she was enough.

────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ──────

Until she didn't think so.

It was past 6 p.m. by the time they got back to the hotel suite — lavish, towering above the harbor, too many mirrors and far too much silence. Kimi was in the shower, washing away the sweat and stress of qualifying. She was curled on the edge of the bed, phone clutched tight in her hand, screen glowing with a headline that made her stomach twist:

“Kimi Antonelli’s mystery girlfriend spotted in the paddock — pretty, but painfully out of place?”

Her cheeks burned. Her jaw clenched. And the comments were worse — anonymous, faceless words from strangers, dissecting her like she was a novelty.

“Looks like she wandered in from a flower shop in the countryside.”

“She’s cute, I guess, but she looks like a schoolgirl next to those women.”

“Sweet, but not really WAG material, huh?”

She locked the phone and dropped it onto the nightstand like it burned. It wasn’t new — she’d felt the stares. She’d felt the way some of the grid girls looked her up and down. But seeing it written out, confirmed, cemented in black-and-white — that hit different.

When Kimi stepped out of the bathroom in a t-shirt and sweats, towel-drying his curls, he spotted her right away — still, quiet, distant.

“Hey,” he said gently, moving to sit beside her. “You okay?”

She looked at him, eyes glassy. “I saw something.”

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

She didn’t answer right away, just reached for her phone, handed it to him. Kimi read the headline, then the comments. His expression hardened. “This is bullshit.”

She gave a soft laugh, bitter and barely there. “Is it?”

He turned to her, eyes sharp. “Yes.”

“You didn’t think that the moment you brought me here? That maybe… maybe I don’t fit?” Her voice cracked. “Kimi, I’m still doing high school homework while you’re out there in an F1 seat. I don’t own a single designer anything. I smiled at Susie Wolff earlier and she looked at me like I was sweetly delusional.”

The air thickened. Kimi stood, pacing for a moment, frustration simmering under his skin. “I’m doing homework too. I’m your age too. Just because there’s money and cameras doesn’t mean I’m not still figuring things out.”

She shook her head. “It’s not the same. You’ve been groomed for this world since you were a kid. I… I still have to ask if we can split dinner when I go out with friends. I don’t come from anything, Kimi.”

He crossed the room in two strides. “I chose you. Out of everyone. And I don’t give a damn if you don’t have a designer bag or if you do homework in my hotel bed — I love that about you.”

She blinked at that. “You don’t have to say that.”

“I want to say it.” His voice was low. “Because it’s true. But if you keep looking at yourself through their eyes — those people who don’t know you — you’ll ruin us before they ever could.”

The silence that followed was heavy. Her eyes were glassy again. “I just… don’t want to hold you back.”

“You don’t.” He stepped closer, hand brushing her jaw, tilting her chin up. “You keep me grounded. Don’t push me away because the world doesn’t make room for girls like you. I’ll make room.”

He was genuinely sincere — he always was — she knew he really meant it, what she wasn't sure about was whether it would be easy in practice.

────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ──────

Barcelona, Spanish Grand Prix – Saturday Night

The air in the hotel suite was warm, heavy with humidity and tension. She sat on the window bench, knees pulled up, trying not to cry. Again.

Kimi stood near the dresser, pulling off his team hoodie with too much force, like it had personally offended him. “You didn’t even come to the garage today.”

She flinched. “I wasn’t feeling well.”

“Bullshit,” he snapped, turning to her. “You’re avoiding me.”

She lifted her eyes to meet his, voice low. “Because every time we talk lately, we fight.”

Silence. Harsh and sudden.

He ran a hand through his curls, exhaling hard. “So what? You just give up?”

She stood then, too fast. “I didn’t give up. I’ve been trying so hard, Kimi. But it’s like I’m never enough for this world. And now I’m starting to wonder if I’m not enough for you, either.”

His face twisted — hurt and anger flickering in equal measure. “Don’t put that on me.”

“Then what do you want from me?” she said, voice shaking. “To keep pretending I’m okay when the comments get worse, when I feel like your accessory instead of your girlfriend? When I’m expected to smile next to women who have million-dollar contracts and ten-year media training? You have no idea how hard it is to stay in a world that constantly tells you you’re out of place—”

He cut her off, sharp. “You think this is easy for me as well? Balancing racing, press, you—”

“Oh, I’m a burden now?”

He froze. “That’s not what I meant.”

“But you said it.” Her voice broke. “You said it and you meant it.”

Kimi looked down, breathing hard. “I didn’t. I swear.”

But it was too late. The damage had been done.

She stepped back like he’d physically struck her, arms folded across her chest like armor. “Maybe we should take a break.”

His eyes snapped up, wide with disbelief. “No.”

“Kimi—”

“No,” he said again, voice rough. “You don’t get to walk away just because things got hard.”

“I’m not walking away,” she whispered, more to herself than to him. “I’m just… trying to protect what little of me I have left.”

He stared at her then, quiet, wrecked, and helpless. Like a boy lost in a world that was suddenly too big for both of them.

Neither of them moved. Neither of them knew how.

And in the silence between them, it was suddenly obvious:

They were still in love.

But maybe that wasn’t enough anymore.

────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ──────

They barely spoke in the car that morning.

He asked if she wanted coffee. She said no.

He reached for her hand. She pulled her sleeve over her fingers.

It wasn’t cold in Spain, but something between them was frozen.

She didn’t make it to the paddock that day. Said she had homework to catch up on. He didn’t argue. He just nodded with a tight smile, then left.

────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ──────

The post-qualifying press conference was routine until it wasn’t.

A woman with too-white teeth and a smug smile leaned into her mic. She wasn’t with F1 media. Not really.

“Great quali, Kimi,” she purred. “You’ve been quite impressive this season. Seems like you’re adapting quickly to the F1 lifestyle — fast cars, jet-setting, glamorous weekends…”

He nodded once. She continued, voice light but loaded.

“…Just wondering, with all the attention and, let’s say, expectations around young drivers and their image, do you ever feel pressure to — hm — upgrade your personal life to match the brand?”

A few chuckles from the room. Microphones crackled. The other drivers turned to look at him.

He knew what she meant.

She meant her.

He sat up straighter. Calm. Still. But his voice cut like a blade.

“Are you asking if my girlfriend doesn’t fit the aesthetic you expect?”

The woman blinked. “Oh, I didn’t mean—”

“Because that’s what you just implied.”

“No, I—”

“She’s not the one who needs upgrading,” he said, firm and deliberate. “She's smart. She’s grounded. She reminds me that there's more to life than this bubble. And if that doesn’t match your ‘brand,’ then maybe it’s your idea of success that needs to be rethought.”

Silence. Heavy and uncomfortable.

He didn’t smile. Didn’t offer a wink or a joke to smooth it over.

He just sat there, eyes locked on her like he dared her to speak again.

The moderator quickly moved on, but the damage — or maybe the justice — was done.

Clips went viral before the press conference ended.

And later that night, when she opened Twitter and saw the clip — Kimi Antonelli, eyes sharp, voice unwavering — defending her against the world she feared…

She didn’t call him.

But she showed up, cheeks pink from the cold, and whispered, “Thank you.”

He didn’t say anything, just pulled her into his arms like he’d been waiting all week.

“You didn’t have to do that, Kimi,” she said softly. “I didn’t ask you to defend me like that. I never wanted to cause you any trouble…”

He took a deep breath, shaking his head, guilt creeping into his chest. “I didn’t do it for trouble. I did it for you.” His hand brushed her arm, soft but desperate. “You’re not a distraction. You’re not a burden. You’re… you’re everything. You make me feel alive.”

The tears she’d been holding back slipped down her cheeks, and Kimi’s heart twisted in his chest. She looked so small, so vulnerable in this big, overwhelming world she didn’t ask to be a part of.

“I told you once,” he murmured, voice rough. “I don’t care if you don’t fit this world. You fit with me.”

She shook her head, sniffling. “But… I’m not like them. I don’t know how to… how to be the girlfriend you’re supposed to have. I’m just—”

“Stop.” Kimi wiped away a stray tear from her cheek. “You’re everything I need. You’re exactly who I need. And if I have to fight every damn person in this world to keep you — then that’s what I’ll do. I’m not in this for the ‘perfect’ girlfriend. I’m in this for you.”

She collapsed into his chest then, shaking as sobs wracked her body. Kimi held her close, his arms wrapping around her like he was afraid she might disappear if he let go.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I hurt you,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I never meant to make you feel like you didn’t belong. I just… I just wanted to protect you. I didn’t want you to think you were alone in this.”

She squeezed him tighter, the tears soaking into his shirt, but for the first time in what felt like forever, she didn’t feel so alone.

“I don’t need anyone but you, Kimi,” she whispered against his chest, voice muffled. “I never did. I was just scared... I was scared I wasn’t enough for you.”

Kimi pulled back slightly, cupping her face in his hands, forcing her to meet his eyes. “You’re more than enough. You’re exactly what I need. Don’t ever doubt that.”

For the first time in weeks, they were both quiet — no more doubts, no more words left unsaid. They simply stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, letting everything else fade away.

And when she finally looked up at him, her eyes swollen but sincere, Kimi knew:

It didn’t matter if she fit into his world or not.

They fit with each other.

And that was all that ever mattered.

[knightjpg]

sugar pit

tags: pussy eating, a handjob, unprotected piv sex, loss of virginity, caleb and mc's usual What Art We relationship. if the whole "Caleb is MC's brother but also not" thing isn't for you now's the time to click away!

It doesn't matter how many times you tell yourself you won't do it— 

“Caleb!” 

—without fail, you run and jump into his arms. Caleb catches you every time.

You cling to him, burying your nose in his shoulder. He smells like work, leather and metal and gasoline. Sweat, too, but that you don't mind. It's something that's Caleb's. You like his smell. When you pull back from him he's smiling wide, eyes soft as he looks down at you. 

“Hi, pips. Didya miss me?” 

“Missed you enough not to ask why you look like haven't slept in three days,” you reply lightly. You poke his cheek with a finger. “Did you miss me?” 

“Always do, pretty girl.” Caleb readjusts his bag, and you tug on his arm. 

“Then let's go,” you say, and Caleb lets you lead the way. 

“I'm happy you came to pick me up, baby, but next time you can just have me come straight to your door, okay?” Caleb steps behind you, around you, moving himself to the part of the sidewalk closest to the street. His hands are on you when he does, gently, steering you on your arm, your lower back. 

“But this way I get to spend more time with you.” 

There's never enough of it. Time. You realised that, after Caleb died. Wished to turn it back, flip the hourglass, just another day, another minute, just one more second with Caleb. 

Somehow you got your wish. You intend to make the most of it. 

Caleb laughs and ruffles your hair. “Okay, smooth talker.” 

This part is easy.  

You're always ecstatic to see him, these first couple of hours. The joy is so fierce and intense you don't care about anything else; you're just happy Caleb is here, and that he's with you. You greedily drink in his affection, grab hold of anything he'll give to you, because you know that it's precious. Grains of sand in the hourglass. 

You chat while you walk. You do most of the talking, as usual; Caleb can never say more about his work than ‘fine’ or ‘okay’ or ‘busy’. You try to accept this, even when it hurts. Even when the anger burns; even when it makes you want to shake him until the secrets fall out of his pockets. 

“What do you wanna eat today? Should we stop by the store?” 

You shake your head. “Dinner's waiting for you.” 

Caleb is surprised; he smiles, bemused, and raises a brow. “Did you order in for us? Or did you make somethin’ and burn it again?” 

"No,” you jab at his ribs with your elbow. “I cooked for you. And that was just the one time, you meanie.” 

“For me?” Caleb is pleased. He pulls you close for a moment, arm swung around your shoulder, and kisses the top of your head. The warmth of it trickles all the way down to your toes. “Thank you, sweet girl. What'd I do to deserve that, huh?” 

“Don't say thank you yet. Maybe you won't like it.” 

“I like everything you do, baby.” 

If you could, you'd eat those words instead of dinner. Pluck them right from the air and let them dissolve on your tongue, then swallow. Hoping you taste Caleb's voice in your throat. 

Yeah, this part is easy.  

It's good—it's how things are meant to be. It's not without effort: you have to pretend that Caleb's eyes haven't changed, that his complexion hasn't become paler, more drawn. You have to pretend not to see that the edges of him have sharpened. This Caleb is harder. Quieter. His quick, easy smile has lost about ten percent of its previous shine. It is a loss you grieve very much, but— 

you're well acquainted with grief, now. 

For the first couple of hours, you're always very good about ignoring all of this. 

You walk Caleb all the way to your apartment, and line your shoes up next to his in the hallway. His sneakers are huge and well-loved, logo old and faded on the sides. He always buys a same pair of new ones, then wears them out until he can't use them anymore. 

You should spend more money on yourself, you tell him when he buys you flowers, heels, a watch, a nice coffee machine. Caleb never listens to you, just smiles. 

I just like spoilin’ my girl, that's all.  

You've begun to watch your words more closely when you talk about things you like. 

“You even set the table? What's goin’ on here?” Caleb narrows his eyes at you playfully when you enter your home. “It's not my birthday for a while yet, pips.” 

“Don't be silly.” You move to the stove and turn it on low so the pans already assembled there can start warming up. Caleb did this for you for years, day in, day out. Breakfasts and lunches and dinners, snacks from the corner store. He used his pocket money to get two of everything you liked. 

You ate it together on the pavement just outside your home. 

“Sir? Your seat is ready,” you say, and pull out his chair with a bow. Caleb sits down with a chuckle, and you serve him food. Things he likes, lots of it. Rice and fish and sour fermented things. Fried vegetables, crispy and still-warm. 

“You've finally gotten good at this, huh? No burned edges this time,” he teases. 

“Like you didn't snatch up the burnt ones before I could eat them.” You push more food on Caleb's plate. He's too thin, these days. It makes you wonder if he remembers to eat when he doesn't do it with you. 

Caleb insists on doing the dishes after, and this you allow, though you help him dry and put things away. 

“I got you dessert, too. Do you want it while we watch a movie?” 

Caleb looks at you, hands covered in bubbles. “Why're you bein’ so nice to me today, huh? Did you do something bad again?” 

You huff. “Fine. No dessert for you, then.” 

Caleb splashes you with soapy water in retaliation, and you dodge, laughing. You lean your head against his shoulder, just for a moment. It's nice. You're punishing yourself. 

“I just want you to have nice things.” 

Caleb shifts, pressing his weight into you until you move away again. “I already got you, pretty girl. I don't need anythin’ else.” 

You turn your back to him, hang up your towel to dry. You keep your voice level. “What about a girlfriend?” 

The faucet runs, then stops. “You know I'm not dating anyone. Not planning to, either.” 

“I'm not pretending to be your girlfriend at work again,” you warn him. It was awful. Nothing like back when Caleb went to DAA. His colleagues were nice, but you felt like you were burning alive with Caleb holding your hand, fingers interlaced, talking to some of the guys he worked with. Kissing you on the cheek when you left. 

It was so nice. It was the worst kind of punishment he could have given you. 

“Why not? You're so good at it.” 

Like anything was difficult with Caleb. You didn't even need to do anything; just stand there, next to him, looking at him like you were in love. It required no effort on your part. 

“I don't like lying,” you say simply. “What do you wanna watch tonight? You can pick.” 

Caleb looks at you with a serious expression. For a moment you think he'll continue about the girlfriend stuff, but then he shakes his head. “Actually, I wanted to take you somewhere tonight. You not too tired?” 

“Depends. Where are we going?” 

Your breath comes in white little puffs, clouds that trickle up to the night sky. It's very clear out tonight; the moon is at three-quarters, so it's not too dark, not even here at the outskirts of Linkon. 

Caleb hands you a blanket from his car, then zips up your jacket all the way to your chin. 

“’S cold out, baby.” 

You marvel at all the things he pulls out of the back. A thermos with hot chocolate, a heating pad, camping chairs that unfold with one shake. And that's not counting all the stuff he usually has in there: first aid kits, fixing tools, flashlights, rechargeable batteries. Gum and water and sanitary pads and towels. Your favourite chapstick, a sweater for when you get cold.  

Apocalypse Caleb, you called him when you first found out. He laughed. 

“What if I'd said I wanted to stay in? Look at all this,” you say. “You prepared so much.” 

Caleb shrugs a little. “Then we would've stayed in.” He tests the camping chair, pushing it securely into the ground. “Here you go, pips, go sit down.” 

You do as he says, tucking the blanket over your lap. Your nose is cold, but the rest of you is very warm. Caleb insisted you put on more clothes before you went. 

You let your head fall back to look up at the stars. They blink back at you; little dazzling lights, far far up ahead. So far out of reach. Just like Caleb. 

The first couple of weeks after he came back you felt like you were in a stupor. Dazed. You'd forgotten how to walk and talk and breathe the way you normally do. You didn't know how to look at your brother anymore, the person you loved most in the world. You felt like you were burning out of your skin being in the same room as him. You felt like you were dying when you weren't. 

“Earth to pipsqueak.” Caleb's finger pokes your cheek. “You got a deep thinkin’ look on your face. What's on your mind?” 

You shift, turning your face to him. He's sat down right next to you; the arm of his camping chairs right up against yours. Absentmindedly, you fiddle with the little net at the end that lets you put cups in there. 

“I was thinking about when I saw you again for the first time.” 

Caleb smiles a little, but it's not a very happy smile. “Not a fun day, huh.” 

“It was the best day.”  

You cried so much you couldn't open your eyes anymore. Blindly, you clung to Caleb, refusing to let go. When he had to leave you for a minute to sort out his Colonel duties you had a full-blown panic attack. 

He had to rush to your side to work you through it, warm hand rubbing your back, telling you listen to his breathing. Just focus on me, pips. On me, okay? I'm right here.  

This is the tricky part. 

You love Caleb very much. You're so, so happy he's here.  

You're so, so furious. 

Some days you think that this anger is the only thing that sustains you. 

“Are you still upset with me?” 

Your big brother never had to ask how you were feeling. He always already knew, even when you didn't want him to.  

There's lots of things you don't know about me now.  

You look back up at the sky. “What will you do if I say yes?” 

Caleb takes your hand, rubbing warm fingers over your cold ones. “I'd ask you to tell me how I can make it better.” 

I want you to turn back time. I want you to let me go inside first. I want to die in your place. I want you to bury me.  

“You already make everything better.” 

Caleb makes a small noise, like he's in pain. You squeeze his fingers, and he squeezes back. 

“I wish...” he trails off, then sighs. “I wish you were angrier with me.” 

You laugh a little. Wisps curl up from your mouth; cold air is sucked back inside. It tastes clean on your tongue. “If I was any angrier I'd explode.” 

“So you are angry with me.” Caleb's voice is very soft. “Why haven't you shown me? You can yell at me if you want. Or hit me. I don't mind.” 

“No.” You look at him again. His eyes are dark. Everything is, out here, in the middle of the night. The only light comes from the stars. “That's your punishment. You have to stay with me for the rest of your life, and you only get to have nice things. I'll never hit you. I'll never curse at you. You'll let me take care of you whenever I want, and you'll never get to see me angry again.” 

The only thing that could hurt him more is removing yourself from him, and you can't do that. This will have to do. You want him to suffer. You want him to be punished, every day, for dying, for leaving, for not seeking you out again. 

You’re a bad person. Maybe it's yourself you're so angry with, all the time. 

Caleb lets out a deep breath beside you. “I'm sorry, baby. I'm really sorry.” 

You don't care. You'd love him even if he weren't. 

Caleb takes your hand, presses a kiss to your palm. “If that's what you want, I'll do it.” 

“There's one more thing,” you say. Your curl your fingers over his cheek, stroke along his jaw. “I'm not pretending to be your girlfriend anymore. You can tell your colleagues we broke up.” 

Caleb's breath hitches. “Because you don't like lying?” 

It hurts, when Caleb lies to you. It hurts because you love him so much, even with all his lies. 

“Yes. Also, what if you meet someone you want to date? Or maybe I'll go on one.” 

You've never even been kissed. There was always Caleb, always only him, and then there was school, and somehow no one ever even seemed to be interested in you anyway. Then Hunter exams, work, death. Only recently have you begun to consider that while you may forever be cursed to want what you can't have the most, maybe you should give the experience a try with someone else.  

Even if it's just to see what it's like. Even if it's just so you can fantasize about Caleb's hands touching you better. 

Caleb is still next to you. He does that sometimes, where his whole body stops. But underneath everything is moving, buzzing, like there's an animal in a cage wanting to get free. A plane stuck in forever takeoff. 

“I'm not going to date anyone. Who are you going on dates with?” He asks quietly. 

You shrug a little. You kick your feet, scuffing dirt on your toes. “No one yet.” 

“Is there somewhere you wanna go?” Caleb presses. “Or something you want to do? I'll do it with you. I'll take you anywhere you want.” 

The anger fills you. You're so happy he's here, your Caleb. He wants so badly to never hurt you, but his presence is one big hurt. It's a kind of pain you crave, can never have enough of. But it crushes you. Every day again. 

You look up and see a star blink at you and then disappear. There's another, but this time it blinks red. A plane flying overnight. 

“I've never kissed anyone,” you say, still looking up. “Tara was shocked when I told her. If I can't find someone on my own she said she'd help me.” 

“Baby.” Caled sounds desperate. He's holding your hand very tightly, so you look at him. “You don't ever have to kiss anyone if you don't want to. Or—” Caleb exhales. He looks tense, like he's upset but doesn't want to show it. “Or you can do it with me.” 

You frown. If he's going to sound so reluctant saying it he shouldn't say it at all. 

“But I do want to,” you mumble. “And I wanna do it with someone who wants it too. I don't want it to be pretend.” 

“Then it can just be practice. How's that sound, pip? You can practice with me as much as you want. See if you like it, and if you don't, then it doesn't count.” 

You're conflicted. 

On the one hand, you want to take everything Caleb gives you. And this is one of the things you want most, have been wanting most, since you were about fifteen and started to understand that the way you felt about your brother wasn't like how most people felt about their siblings. 

I'm not your brother, Caleb's voice says in your head. I'm tired of playing house.  

It's an offer that's too good to refuse. But— 

You're very angry with him. And you worry that if he gives you this you'll let some of it slip through; after everything you just said to him about punishment it'd be an embarrassment to your integrity if you just gave it up.  

Unlike Caleb, you're not a liar. Some things that are true you just keep to yourself. 

“What do you think?” 

Caleb is smiling his warm big brother smile. You relax instantly; at this point, it's Pavlovian. You see Caleb, and you know you're safe. Nothing will happen to you as long as you're with him. 

Caleb senses that you're about to give in, because he adds, “We can even do it now, if you want to. You want to, baby? Come sit on my lap, and I'll kiss you.” 

You throw off your blanket. Stand up. Take one step, and sink down on his lap. Caleb's arms wrap around you immediately, holding you tight against him. His hands squeeze you through your jacket. Very faintly, you feel his heartbeat. It's fast. 

“I don't want you to force yourself,” you say. But you're already here. If he makes you leave now, you’ll cry yourself to sleep tonight. 

“I never force myself with you, pretty girl.” Caleb's calloused fingers stroke your cheek. He pulls on your chin so you face him properly. 

Very, very gently, his lips press against yours. They're soft—even softer than you thought they'd be, and you've spent a lot of time thinking about Caleb's lips. Your pulse is rabbit-quick, heart threatening to grow wings and fly out of your chest. 

You breathe against Caleb. The cold air prickles in your nose, but Caleb is very warm. He always has been. Your sun. Your summer in a bottle. He moves his lips against yours, and you copy him. Curious, you poke the tip of your tongue against his lower lip.  

Caleb groans. He opens his mouth, then, and presses you against him tighter. He slides his own tongue against yours, and you taste hot cocoa. The pudding you got him for dessert. Your head feels light, fuzzy, like you're way up in the clouds next to all those stars. Your heart thunders in your ears. 

When you pull away you realise you're panting; Caleb is, too. He's hard underneath you. 

Suddenly you're overcome with what you've just done. Whose dick is hard under your legs just from kissing you. You duck your head into Caleb's shoulder so he can't see your face and he lets you, running his big hands soothingly over your back. 

“How was that, pips?” he asks. His voice is hoarse. “Did you like practicin’ with me?” 

“I don't know,” you say muffled into his neck. 

“You feelin’ a little shy? Want me to take you home?” 

“I don't know.” 

Caleb laughs a little, then sighs. It's a happy sigh. He squeezes you against him tightly, then stands up holding you in his arms. “My little girl is so cute I could eat her up,” he says fondly. “C'mon. Let's go back.” 

You don't protest. You feel like you're burning up again. Caleb tucks you into your seat, clicks on your seatbelt, and loads all the stuff he brought back into the back. The car engine rumbles to life under your feet, and then you're gliding back into the city.  

Caleb's hand is on your leg while he drives. Just below the knee, fingers squeezing down occasionally. You wish he'd move it lower. You wish he'd stop the car and kiss you again. You wish he'd fuck you on the backseat. 

The radio is on low, and Caleb hums along to the song. You don't feel angry so much anymore now; you're flushed, flustered, quiet. 

You touch your hand to your lips and watch the world outside the window slip away in the dark. 

“Up you go now.” 

“Hmm?” you ask sleepily. “Caleb?” 

“Yes, baby. I'm right here.” 

There's the sound of a car door closing, and air rushes past you. You're floating, no, flying—it's Caleb, carrying you. Your body moves with the sway of his feet, boots going thump thump thump along the hallway to your apartment door. You rub at your eyes. 

“I'm sorry I fell asleep.” 

He looks down at you and smiles. “Don't be. You were feelin’ all tired, weren't you? Now you can go back to sleep in your bed.” 

You don't want to go back to sleep. If you have to be in bed you want Caleb there with you, kissing you more. Even if it means you won't be able to look him in the eye tomorrow. 

“I'm not sleepy anymore now.” You press your finger against the lock, and the door clicks open. Caleb steps inside, toes off his boots, then continues into the living room to set you down on the couch. He kneels to take off your shoes. 

“I can do it,” you say, nudging at his hands. “Caleb—” 

“I know. But let me do it for you.” 

You sink back into the cushions and watch him for a moment. “I've decided,” you tell him. 

Caleb looks up at you. He's finished with your shoes. His hand is wrapped around your ankle, and strokes up, along your calf, over your knee. “Decided on what?” 

“I want to practice more.” Your cheeks burn when you say it. It's dark inside, just low light from a table lamp behind you, but you can see Caleb much better compared to when you were out stargazing. 

It means he can see you much better, too. 

Caleb's hand squeezes your leg, moves a little higher. His eyes look bright. Eager. Angry. “Yeah? You sure you're not too tired?”  

You nod, and zip off your jacket. You're suddenly very warm—the extra layers Caleb insisted you wear for your little trip stick to your skin, sweaty and too-tight. Caleb, still kneeling, helps you with your jacket, folding it neatly over the back of the couch. When you get stuck in your sweater he helps you with that, too. 

He chuckles when you grab his zipper and bend closer to pull off his jacket all the way. He's wearing a fleece sweater underneath, and that has to go, too. You pull on it impatiently, and once it's off, tug on Caleb's shoulders. Come closer, your hands say. I want you closer.  

You're angry again. 

You think Caleb might be, too, because he doesn't kiss you so gently this time. He's wound tight, a wire ready to spring, and licks into your open mouth like he'll die if he doesn't. The kiss is harder, messier, spit and teeth, Caleb half-crawling, half-crouching over you and pressing you into the cushions. His knee is in between your thighs, dangerously close to your wet hot core, the part of you that's burning brightest. Burning for him. For his touch. 

Your hands roam over his chest, dig into his hair, pull on his necklace. The metal is warm from his skin, and the chain digs its teeth into your fingers. Caleb moans when you pull on it, pull him closer to you. 

Caleb's hands are in your hair, too, cradling your skull, moving you below his hungry mouth. You make sounds, too, little hitching breaths, whines that he swallows whole. Your body is hot. You want him so, so badly. 

You've always wanted him. Always chased him. Curled up at his side, hanging off his arms, perched on his shoulders. 

Look, Caleb, I'm flying!  

He'd make you fly for real one day, Caleb promised. Once he's a pilot, he can take you anywhere. See anything. Even way beyond the clouds. 

You start to cry. 

Caleb jerks back as if shocked, big hands coming to rest on your cheeks. His eyes flit over your face, brows pinched. “Oh, pips, baby, what's wrong? What's wrong?” He hugs you close and rocks you, just like he did when you were little. “Did I hurt you? I'm sorry.” 

You hurt me all the time. You hiccup against his shoulder, tremble when he pets your hair. Try to breathe, chest heaving, blood rushing fast. 

“Hey, talk to me. What's got you so upset, huh?” 

You're so angry. You're so angry you can't talk for a moment, mouth nothing-words against Caleb's shirt. “Can't—” you hiccup again. “Can't tell you.” 

“Gonna make me guess? I'm reaaal good at it.” Caleb shifts to sit on the couch, lifting you on his lap. You bury your head in his shoulder, and he tucks your hair behind your ear before stroking it again. 

“Guess number one: you didn't like the kissing.” 

You shake your head. You liked the kissing very much. 

“Hmm... Guess number two: you're mad at me. Am I right?” 

Yes. No. Kind of. Not really. You're upset Caleb can't give you what you want. You're angry at yourself for kissing him anyway. You knew this would happen, so why why why did you do it?  

Because you love him so much. Because you've never wanted anyone but him. You want so badly for this to be real, and it can't be. You're the worst kind of person, greedy and cruel, because even after you got what you wanted more than anything else in the world—Caleb, alive, different, changed, but not dead, not in the ground, not blown to pieces—you still want more. 

Caleb takes your silence as a yes, and he kisses your head. “See? I told you I'm real good. Now how can I fix it, baby? Why are you upset at me?” 

“What if—” your voice comes out scratchy. You sniffle, start again. “What if I wanted to do other things? Not just kissing. Would you practice with me then too?” 

Caleb is silent for a moment before answering. “I told you, pips. Whatever you wanna do, I'll do it with you.” 

You push up suddenly, twisting so you can look at him. Your nails dig into his chest; your vision is blurry with tears. “I hate it when you do this. When you act like this. I'm so angry at you, all the time. You lie to me, you hurt me, and it doesn't even—doesn't even matter, because I—” the tears fall again, heavy and wet, “because I love you so much. I just let you. I just hurt.” 

A sob wracks your body, and you fall back against Caleb, shaking. His arms come around you and squeeze you so tight it's painful. 

“Oh, pip.” Caleb almost sounds like he's crying, too. “Baby. I don't want you to hurt. I don't want anything to hurt you, even me. Least of all me.” He lets out a shuddering breath. “Can you tell me what it is I'm doing that's making you so angry? You sure it's not ‘cause we kissed?” 

You shake your head. 

“Then why? What am I actin’ like, pretty girl? Tell me and I'll fix it.” 

“Like—like it doesn't matter. Like you'd do whatever, and none of it really matters. Like I'm just using you.” 

Caleb noses against your forehead. “Everything I do with you matters, baby. And I like it when you use for me stuff you want.” 

“I don't want it like that,” you say quietly. “If you don't feel the same way I do, I don't want it.” 

That's a half-lie. You want it. You take it all, Caleb's touches, the kisses he drops on your head, the hand he holds yours with in a crowd, the groceries he buys for you, the time he makes for you, his calls, his texts, his warmth, everything. 

But all of those things fall under safe territory. Things that can be explained away into the familiarity of the act, because Caleb's always taken care of you. Kissing and dating and sex is something else, something that you can't bear to lie to yourself about. To have Caleb lie to you about. 

Caleb is very quiet. He's hard under you again, something neither of you acknowledge.  

“Then how do you feel, pips?” he asks finally. You draw up your knees and curl your hands in your lap. 

You knew this question was coming. This is what you were afraid of, letting him so close, letting him touch your want, your anger, your fucked-up desire. Some of it spilled out. He asks questions you can never answer, except now you did. 

“I can't tell you.” 

“Do you want me to guess again?” You hear the smile in Caleb's voice. He likes playing with you. He likes when you make him work for it, whatever it is.  

“It's a secret. You can't guess it.” 

“Then do you wanna trade?” Caleb says softly in your ear. “I'll give you my secret, and you give me yours.” 

Caleb has so many secrets now. So many things he hasn't told you, so many things you don't even know to ask about. You promised each other you'd never keep anything from each other, years ago. But Caleb broke that promise, and now there's a whole wall of things left unsaid dividing you. 

Of course you want to know. 

“Then you go first. And it has to be a good secret. I won't tell you if you try to trick me.” 

Caleb hums and leans back against the couch, gently wiping at your cheeks. “My secret's that I really liked kissin’ you, pip. I was so happy you let me, ‘cause I've been thinking about doing that for a long time.” 

Caleb's thumb is still stroking over your cheek, even though you're pretty sure there's no more tears left to clean up. As expected, his secret isn't as heavy as yours, but the words pierce through you regardless. 

He's thought about it for a long time. What's a long time? A month? A week? A lonely year in deepspace? 

“I liked it too,” you say in a small voice. 

Caleb's eyes crinkle into little crescent moons. He's smiling wide. “I'm so happy to hear that, baby. I want you to feel good. I want to make you feel good.” 

Then make me feel good, is on the tip of your tongue. You can't say it. You need to think about how to respond, how to match Caleb's secret with your own in a way that won't repulse him forever. 

“Is there anything else you've thought about for a long time?” 

Caleb gazes at you with dark eyes. They're beautiful, framed by long dark lashes that kiss his cheek when they flutter closed. He's not closing them now, though; he's looking at you with a strange, serious expression. 

“Yeah.” 

When he doesn't elaborate, you push him. “Like what?” 

You earn a tap on your nose for that. “Now who's trying to trick who, huh? It's your turn.” 

You press your hands against Caleb's chest and look down at them while you speak. The words come slowly. Carefully. 

“I guess that... my secret is the same as yours. I've thought about it for a long time, too.” 

Caleb's heartbeat flutters under your palms. He echoes your question back at you: “And other things?” 

You're burning again, a hot little flame that starts low in your stomach and blazes through your neck, your cheeks, your ears. Red all over. 

You keep your eyes away from Caleb's, afraid of what he might say, and don't answer. 

“You asked me, right? If I'd do other things too?” Caleb's voice is very close. His breath is warm on your cheek. “What other things, pip? What have you been thinking about doing with me?” 

Your heart trips over itself. He's going to find out. He's going to know. He'll know and he'll be disgusted by you, he'll pull away from you, he'll finally be alive again and you still managed to ruin it all—  

Caleb presses his lips to your jaw, once, then twice, then nudges you with his nose, his hands, to kiss you on the lips. “You can tell me,” he murmurs. “It's just me, pips. Only me here.” 

He kisses you again, coaxing you out of your little shell. And you come crawling, because it's his voice that's calling your name. Caleb's hands slide over your arms, your waist, stop to squeeze at your hips. He lifts you, briefly, so he can grab your leg to straddle him. 

You're so wet you're afraid he'll feel it, afraid he'll feel a wet little spot just like you're feeling his cock strain against his pants under you. When you break the kiss a thread of saliva keeps you connected. Without noticing one of your hands has wound itself in Caleb's hair, and you slide it lower to cup his cheek. His skin is warm and tanned. The freckles that grow darker in summer dance under your fingertips, and you map them with your eyes, putting together constellations on his cheeks. You always wished you'd get freckles, too, but unlike Caleb you just burned. 

Even now, whenever you smell sunscreen you think Caleb. If you close your eyes you can feel his hands rubbing it on your cheeks, your arms, every part of you. Like a shield, like armour. 

But even with all those layers— 

“Still don't wanna tell me?” Caleb asks. His voice is rough and low, husked at the edges. You're this close to kicking him out so you can finger yourself while you still taste him on your lips, trying to fill the aching emptiness everything he does ignites in you. 

—you're always burning. 

“Tell me what you want. I'll give it you.” 

“I want—” 

You're just a person. Human. Weak with wants and needs. Everything has a limit, even you. Even your desires. 

“I want you to touch me,” you whisper. 

Caleb makes a low sound in the back of his throat. His dick twitches in his pants, and when you dare to look at his eyes you see they're blown so wide there's barely anything left of his usual violet. 

“Where, baby? Where do you want me?” 

You shake your head, whine. Caleb chuckles breathlessly. 

“You're not makin’ it easy for me, princess. Is it here?” He moves his hand from your hip to your thigh, squeezing. “Or here?” His other hand travels up, all the way to the back of your neck. 

“I can't. You'll hate it,” you manage to force out. “It'll ruin everything. And then you'll leave, and I can't—I can't lose you again—” 

You thought you were done with crying, but tears threaten to spill again. Caleb shushes you. “I'm not goin’ anywhere. I'll never you leave, pip, I promise. No matter what you say to me. No matter how angry you are, or how much you cry. I'm always here.” 

Can you believe him? Can you trust him?  

And if not Caleb, who's left? 

“I want to touch you,” he whispers. “All over. You just tell me where. I want it.” 

You close your eyes. You take the hand on your thigh, and bring over, up, right over where your jeans zip closed. You're catching fire. 

“Right here, huh?” Caleb says. There's a tremble in his voice. “Do you wanna take off your pants when I do?” 

Eyes still closed, you nod once.  

Immediately, Caleb's moving, hoisting you up with both his Evol and his own strength. Your eyes fly open in surprise, and you see he's taking you to your bedroom. For all his hurry you're laid on the bed oh so gently, and then his fingers are working open button—zipper—shimmy down— 

And a thumb hooks around your underwear. Caleb's breathing fast, eyes glued on the wet spot right in the centre of it. He strokes his thumb over it, and your hips jerk in surprise and arousal. 

“Can I—” Caleb groans and presses his forehead against your naked thigh for a moment. When he looks up at you again your breath catches over the raw need on his face. “Can I touch with just my hands? Or can I use my mouth?” 

The heat is making you short-circuit. “But—I—wait, I haven't showered,” you stutter. 

Caleb presses his nose against your core, inhaling deeply. His fingers dig into your legs so hard it'll bruise, and he moans. You think you might pass out before he actually does anything. 

“Can I?” he asks again, though this time it sounds more like he's begging. He's already pulling your underwear off, and you're too distracted to notice he stuffs it in his back pocket instead of throwing it on the floor. 

“I—okay,” you whisper, because Caleb so very rarely asks for anything. Because you want to give him everything. Because you're so unbelievably wet that you'll die if he doesn't touch you right now, hands, tongue, whatever he wants. 

As soon as you give him the okay he leans in. You gasp when he licks up a broad stripe over your cunt, pressing his tongue flat against it, groaning like it's him who's feeling good. 

“Caleb—” You whimper when he does it again, and then again, and then he's eating you like he's been starving for days. He fucks you with his tongue, he sucks on your clit, and when he adds his fingers—long fingers, big and strong, big enough to curl against your weakest spot—your head falls back on the bed with a whine. The more sounds you make, the more eagerly he laps at you, kisses you, bites at the soft flesh of your thighs. 

Dazedly, you wonder if this is meant to feel this good. You can't stop clenching down on him, trying to suck him deeper inside. You're going to come, and you're going to come fast, and is this even real or a dream inside your head? 

“Shi—it,” Caleb groans. “You're so pretty, baby. So fuckin’ pretty. Knew you would be, too. Fuck.” 

“Caleb,” you pant. “Caleb, I'll—” 

He moans in response, tongue working you again, the sound of his fingers moving inside you wet and obscene. The pleasure builds, crests, then rushes over you like a wave. Your whole body tenses, one big strain, caught up in the current. Broken moans leave you on the comedown, body shuddering like a leaf caught in the wind. 

You twitch away from Caleb, who hasn't stopped lapping at you, and then melt, boneless, into the sheets. While you catch your breath you see Caleb rise, licking his lips. He sucks his fingers—his fingers, the ones that were just inside of you—clean with a lidded gaze.  

Even now, after just having come on his tongue, you feel a warm twinge in your lower stomach. 

“Was that nice, pretty girl? Did it feel good?” 

You nod. It was more than nice. Caleb just ruined your vibrator for you, and you fear you’re going to have to spend a pretty penny to get anything that'll come close to the way he just made you feel. 

When you push yourself up on your elbows it occurs to you that Caleb's still fully dressed, and you're still wearing your shirt. You haven't even taken off your socks. The red dotted pattern winks at you from the edge of the mattress. 

You suddenly feel shy. What are you supposed to say now? Will Caleb go home, leave like this was business as usual? Your dimly lit bedroom is cosy and warm, but you doubt you'll be able to fall asleep tonight. Not after this. 

Fortunately Caleb saves you from having to say anything. Smiling, he crawls up the bed, hovering over you to kiss you again. You taste traces of yourself on his lips; you realise this is the very first time that you do. It's weird. A little bitter, a little musky, but— 

It's not bad. Not if Caleb's the one making you taste it. 

When he gathers you in his arms, maneuvering you side by side, your face tucked under his chin, you hug him back. If you cling to him tightly enough maybe he won't leave. 

“Was that what you wanted, baby?” Caleb murmurs into the crown of your head. 

“How are you so good at that?” you whisper back.

Caleb laughs and squeezes you closer. His cock is rock-hard and poking you insistently in your stomach, even through his pants. “Am I? I'm glad you think so. It's my first time givin’ it a spin.” 

Huh? 

Shock overtakes embarrassment, and you pull back to look at him. 

Huh? 

“What?” 

Caleb cocks an eyebrow. “What ‘what’?” 

“Have you ever had sex?” you blurt out. 

The corners of Caleb's mouth twitch upwards. “Nope.” 

“But why?” The endless love letters, the confessions, the whispers, the stares. Everyone loves Caleb, no matter where he goes, and you've come to accept it simply as fact a long time ago. You understand, because you love him too. Even if the jealousy makes your stomach feel sick with it sometimes. 

“’Cause I never wanted anyone else. I told you, didn't I? I want to touch you. You just tell me where.” 

Anyone else? 

Anyone else?  

You sit and gape at him. Caleb chuckles and kisses the hand that's curled against his chest. “I can see the steam comin’ out your ears, baby.” He sighs, and the smile fades on his lips. He looks back at you with his serious eyes again. “Well, what about you? Have you?” 

“No,” you say meekly. “There was—no.” 

Caleb relaxes, and his smile returns. “Good.” 

“Caleb.” 

“Hmm?” 

“Do you...” you hesitate. Pause. Rethink what you want to say. “You didn't mind? Touching me?” It doesn't gross you out? Disgust you? Make you hate me, make you leave, make you not want to be around me anymore?  

Caleb kisses your hand again. “I loved it, baby. Even more than I thought I would. I'd do it every day if you let me.” 

Every day—  

You shake your head. Focus. “If I tell you another secret, will you tell me another one of yours again?” 

“There's more secrets?” Caleb frowns a little, but he brushes over your cheek gently. “Yeah, pips. I'll tell you if you tell me.” 

He hasn't run screaming yet. He said he wanted to touch you, that he's wanted to kiss you. You don't dare to look too closely at what it might mean. What lies at the end of devotion? Does it have an end, with Caleb? 

I've been thinking about doing that for a long time.  

“I wanted you to touch me,” you say carefully. “But I also want to—to touch you. Not for practice. Just because it's you.” You peek at Caleb through your lashes. His cheeks are flushed, and his eyes glitter like stars. 

“Where, beautiful? Where do you wanna touch me?” 

Your voice is very quiet when you answer. “Anywhere that makes you feel good.” 

Caleb's eyes flutter closed for a second. When he opens them again he looks serious, but it's not serious angry Caleb. It's serious thinking Caleb, one who's arriving at the end of a very long equation. 

“For a long time?” 

You duck your head. “Maybe. Now give me your secret.” 

Caleb sits up abruptly and pushes into your space. You fall back in surprise, back hitting the mattress, as he leans over you. His pretty purple eyes are dark again, intense, storm-in-a-bottle. Clouds gathering for rain. 

“I want you to touch me. I've wanted you to touch me since forever. I want to fill you in every way I can, with my hands, my mouth, and my cock, and I want you to look at only me.” 

Your mouth drops open, air coming shallow and fast. 

“It's never been pretend for me. I don't want anyone else touching you, ever. Only me.” 

You swallow. “But—what—what if it doesn't work out? Things will be different. And I don't want to lose—to lose you.” Not again; never again. 

Caleb lowers his head to press a kiss against your pulse, just below your jaw. "You'll never lose me, pip. I promise.” When you stay quiet he lifts his head to look you in the eye. It's a little frightening, the intensity of his gaze. The weight of his want. “I promise. Is that the only thing you're worried about? Losin’ me? Think I won't like you anymore after I've been inside you?” 

You're worried about a million things. About not measuring up, about falling out, about being so angry with him and loving him so, so much at the same time. About drifting apart, again. 

Caleb takes your hand and guides it to his groin, presses it against his cock. He lets out a little hiss. “Feel that, beautiful? Feel how much I want you? It's always been like that. When we were livin’ together—I jerked off three times a day, I wanted you so bad. I felt like I was going crazy. I—” Caleb exhales, drops his head on your shoulder. “I stole your used panties. I sniffed your gym clothes. I was so fuckin’ desperate.” 

Caleb's words send a zap of lightning between your legs. Your whole body is aflame and breaking out in a sweat; it's a little hard to focus on anything but Caleb's dick twitching against your fingers, his hot breath on your skin, and I stole your used panties. I wanted you so bad. Feel how much I want you?  

It's always been like that.  

You tug at his shirt. “Take off your clothes,” you demand. 

A tentative smile breaks through on Caleb's face. Without a word he obeys, sitting back up on his haunches and peeling off his longsleeves. There's a compression tank under it, and this too is dropped on the side of the bed. 

But you're impatient, now, and your fingers reach his belt before he can. You tug the leather free, fumble with the belt loops, then go for his zipper. Caleb's hips rock against you, once, like he can't help it, and he watches your hands with a shaky sigh. 

He helps you tug his jeans down, and then his underwear, and then, and then— 

Your mouth feels dry when his cock slaps against his stomach, finally freed. It looks red, angry, leaking with precum. You want to touch it, so you do, pushing yourself upright while Caleb kneels before you: one careful, curious finger stroking alongside the shaft. 

Caleb shudders. 

“How can I make you feel good?” you ask earnestly. “Show me.” 

Silently, Caleb takes your hand and wraps it around his cock. Your fingertips just barely manage to touch, not-quite closing around him. He places his much bigger hand over yours and shows you, squeezing at the base, twisting upwards, gently at the tip and down again. He's panting; the flush on his cheeks has spread all the way down to his neck, over his chest, his lovely freckled skin. Scarred and bruised. So perfectly his. 

When you grow bolder and start moving your hand on your own, upping the pace, Caleb lets out a strangled moan, throwing his head back as his hips jerk forward helplessly. “Oh, fuck,” he groans. “Pip, baby, angel, that feels so good. Feel so good around me. I'm gonna—ah, gonna cum soon if you keep going.” 

“Do you want to?” you ask. You look up at him, your big brother, your protector, your heart. Your pain and the cure. 

Caleb laughs, breathless and eager. “I wanna cum anywhere you let me.” 

That's not good enough. You slow your hand and stop while holding him at the base. Caleb squeezes his eyes shut, brow scrunching up. 

“But I want to know what you want,” you say. A little petulant, a little bossy, because Caleb's always spoiled you, indulged you, and you told him, didn't you? This was punishment. He'll let you take care of him whenever you wanted. He's only allowed to have nice things. To feel good. To get everything he wants. 

Caleb's eyes open again. “Inside you,” he rasps. “Inside your pussy.” 

Another wave of heat makes you let go of him, scooting back on the bed. Caleb watches, entranced, as you lie back and hold out your hands to him. 

“Okay,” you say simply. 

There's a moment where Caleb looks like he's frozen in time; disbelieving, desperate, helpless. 

Then he moves. 

He crawls over you and kisses you again. He's trembling a little, and you think you are too. You jolt when you feel his fingers against your clit again, still sensitive, raw, everything so new. 

He dips them inside, nose pressed against your neck and inhaling deeply, stroking once, two, three times, curling them until your nails dig into his shoulders. When he removes them he spits in his palm; then holds it out to you, under your chin. 

“Spit,” he commands. 

You spit. 

He slicks himself up with your combined saliva, your arousal, his sweat, and then his tip is pushing against you, into you—  

“Fffuck,” Caleb groans. “Relax, pip. Relax for me. Shit, you're perfect. So tight.” 

You're trying to do as he says, but your whole body has turned into one big nerve, and at the root is the little place that Caleb's entering now, deeper and deeper, hot wet thick warm tight. 

His jaw is clenched, and even in the low light you see the sweat shining on his brow. He's so careful with you, pushing himself further in so very slowly. Pausing when you gasp or tighten around him reflexively.  

Once he bottoms out, pelvis flush with yours, he exhales. 

“Caleb,” you croak. You're so full.  

A bead of sweat drips down his nose, and your Caleb smiles. “Yeah, baby. You're doin’ so good. Feel how far in I am?” 

You can feel him in your throat. Your lungs. Your heart, completely.  

“I love you,” you tell him, voice patchy, and watch his eyes glisten. His lips press on yours, hard, full of relief.  

You tell Caleb you love him every time you say goodbye. It's a little bit of a compulsion. You have to say it, need to say it, because what if? What if you don't get the chance to again? What if this loop of time is broken, again? 

But it's different, now. 

“I love you, too, pretty girl. Always have.” Caleb rolls his hips into yours, and you gasp. He does it again, a little harder and a little faster, and keeps doing it until you're whimpering under him, your legs locked around his hips and your arms scrabbling for purchase on the wide, muscular planes of his back. 

He cradles your skull and tucks it against his neck, large fingers splaying wide over your head. His shoulders are broad, overtaking everything you see. Everything you feel. 

Caleb's other hand shoves itself between your two bodies to rub your clit, and when Caleb shifts, angles his hips, and fucks you—  

Stars explode behind your eyes. A loud moan swings loose from your chest, unable to stay inside, because it feels so, so good, and then Caleb keeps hitting that spot, keeps making more noises spill from your lips, just like they do from his, until the core of you is wound tight again. 

Caleb kisses you messily, panting in your mouth and groaning low whenever you squeeze down on him. 

“Come on my cock,” he rasps. “Come on my cock, pip, let me feel you, just like that, c’mon—” 

You're helpless before his command. You do as he says while clinging to him tight, shaking, and a few tears slip out from the sheer intensity. Caleb leans down and licks them up, tongue hot and wet on your skin.  

He works you through the wave, just barely, before he loses his rhythm. He hits you deeper, now, harder, clenching his teeth, pressing biting kisses on your neck. The only thing you can do is hold onto him. 

“Gonna—gonna come, angel, gonna come inside you, fuck, I'm gonna fill you up. Take it, you're gonna— take it—” 

Caleb's hips jerk one, two more times, and then he spills inside of you with a heady groan. It shocks you, the heat of it, and you moan with him on his comedown. Caleb rocks inside you a few more times, trying to fuck his cum into you deeper, and then— 

He melts. Right on top of you, heavy as can be, and the air is pressed out of your lungs with a soft oof.  

Before you can complain, though, he turns, rolling you onto your side. You do your best not to knee him in the stomach while you reposition your legs, because Caleb won't let go of you even a little. 

He buries his face in your neck, hair tickling your cheek, and you stroke your fingers through his short dark strands. “What do you think?” you tease him. “Do I need practice after all?” 

Caleb squeezes your sides; you can feel him smiling against you. “Depends. Am I the one you're practicin’ with?” 

You laugh. Caleb's cock is still inside you, and you feel it twitch at the sound. “Nope. I told you, I only want it for real.” 

Caleb loosens his grip on you just enough to look you in the eyes. His hair is messy, and his cheeks are still flushed. Sweat clings to his temples. He looks so beautiful it's like he's not from this world. 

“Then we'll do it for real. As long as it's me, pips. Will you promise me?” 

Caleb's holding his pinky, and you take it in yours. “And if I want other things? Not just—kissing or touching?” 

The tips of your ears are warm again. 

“Then we'll do those too.” 

You lower your eyes, focusing on a freckle near his lovely mouth. You have to say it now. After this you can't go back to the way things were. 

“Like dating. For real. Not... not just so you can turn down confessions.” 

“Oh, pip.” Caleb pulls you close again, a tight, warm hug, and your eyes flutter closed at the proximity. Silly, the way you’re still connected but him embracing you makes you feel warm and safe all over again. “I'd turn those down either way, you know. Even if you didn't wanna help me.” 

You give his chest a weak slap. “Answer the question.” 

“Yes ma’am.” Caleb does his funny soldier voice, and suddenly you just can't take him seriously anymore. Dummy. Dork. Crazy. Still inside you, still hard, and he gives you a salute when you ask him very seriously if he wants to be your boyfriend. 

You throw your head back in exasperation. You're trying very hard not to laugh. “I'm serious!”  

Caleb chuckles softly and gently pulls you back so he can kiss you. “Good. Me too.” 

“No, you're not,” you accuse him. “Stop goofing around and answer me. Or I'll think everything you said was a lie.” 

Caleb's gaze softens. “I meant it, pip. I'm very serious about you. About us. If you want me to date you, be your boyfriend, anything, you already have me. I wouldn't lie to you about that.”  

You purse your lips, considering. “I guess if you're my boyfriend I could make sure you're fulfilling your punishment.” When Caleb cocks an eyebrow, you huff. “Did you forget already? I said you have to stay with me for the rest of your life. You only get to have nice things, and you'll let me take care of you.” 

“...And you wouldn't get angry at me. I remember,” Caleb says softly. He brushes his lips over your cheek. “I'll take anything you wanna give me. Even if I wish that you'd be angry at me.” 

That wall of secrets separates you again. You've lost so much time grieving. 

Caleb, too. You see the pain in his eyes, the change in his face. He's still yours. He's always been yours, and nothing can take that away from you. 

But you and him, you've been through a lot. Scared to show each other the scars—afraid of what the aftermath might change. 

“Then stop hiding yourself from me,” you say. “Maybe I'll be angry at you, then.” 

“Have you... do you wish I was still the old Caleb?” 

Caleb's voice is unsure, vulnerable in a way that you've heard very few times in your life. It's anxious Caleb. And just now you had silly Caleb, and there's angry Caleb, and serious Caleb, all these different sides of him, gleaming in the light like facets of a pretty stone. 

All different, all the same. 

You smile. You rest your head on Caleb's chest, feel his strong heart pump the blood around in his body. You're sweaty, messy, and the sheets need changing. Tears and drool and cum. Blood and spit and hurt. Love and pain. Anger, so much of it, and someday it will need a name. A place to sit and live. 

For now, though— 

(For always, though—) 

“I just want the one that's right here with me.” 

[dantes-jacket]

Just a little dip

Dante x fem reader

Author notes: my last request is done! You and Dante go camping and he convinces you to skinny dip with him. You can’t swim and he makes sure to make you comfortable. This is pure flufffffff

You’re humming a little tune while cooking dinner for you and Dante. He’s been swamped with calls and reports all day so you’re trying to make him something that’ll boost his spirits. You don’t have the ingredients to make a full pizza and you really don’t want to spend more money on buying one so you decided to make little pizza bites.

There was only enough ingredients to make a small sized thing of dough so mini pizza bites are going to have to work. This might have been a little spur of the moment idea but you’re having a lot of fun. You put the little dough balls in a muffin tin and are now customizing each little one. When you’re finishing the last one Dante is calling out to you.

“Babe, have you ever gone camping?”

“I haven’t. Why, what’s up?” You walk out of the kitchen and see his feet stretched on the desk and leaning far back into his seat. It’s a miracle he hasn’t fallen.

He leans his head back to see you once he realized you came into the room. “I want a little break and I thought camping could be fun. Especially since it’s spring time now the forest has to look great now.”

“Sounds like fun! When do you want to go?”

“This weekend. We can leave Friday morning and come back Sunday night.”

“Let’s do it!” You excitedly agree. That’s three days from now. You’ve never been but you and Dante alone enjoying each other’s presence while being surrounded by the beauty of nature sounds heavenly.

•

The next three by fast due to the excitement both of you are feeling. Somehow Dante was able to get all the stuff you two brought to fit onto his motorcycle. At this rate he is a man of many talents you think to yourself. The drive was peaceful and not too long. He pulls up to the “camping grounds.” It’s a spot he normally uses when he has a job up here. He knows there’s no demons lurking around here so he thought this was the perfect place to show you.

He hops off the motorcycle and helps you off. Then unloads everything off his bike and starts to set up the tent. You decide to unpack the little grill and food so you can make some lunch. You end up cooking some meat and vegetables so you two can stay full during your hike later this afternoon.

After the tent was pitched and you two ate, Dante is showing you all around. He takes you on a couple different trails that lead to different things. One lead you to a cave, another to an opening with a plain, and now the last one is lead you to a big pond.

Dante helps you down the uneven terrain so you two can get close to the water. Since you’re hot and sweaty from all the hiking you go straight to the water and splash some on your face.

“This feels great.” You hum in content.

“Hey baby.”

“Yeah?”

“I have an idea.” Dante declares.

You turn to him and see him already smirking. “This could be either really bad or really good and I can’t tell which one it is.”

“Hey rude!” Dante ignores your eye roll and starts to slowly strip. Oh now you’re not rolling your eyes at him. You’re licking your lips while you watch him get bare. As soon as he has nothing on he jumps into the water.

You look to see him break through the surface of the water and shake his head getting all the extra water out of his hair. He then brushes his hair back and simply says, “Strip.”

“What- you want to swim naked?”

“Yeppppp. Gotta cross skinny dipping off the bucket list somehow.” He says with a sly smile and adds a wink.

You gulp and stand back up again. You slowly strip out of your clothes.

Dante lets out a whistle, “Damn babe, you’re sexy.” You just flush more and kick your panties off to the side. Now you’re fully naked and standing at the edge.

“Um Dante?”

“Yes?”

“How deep is it?”

“Oh pretty deep I guess. It goes to my chest.”

“I don’t know how to swim.” You quickly whisper not even loud enough to have him hear you.

“What did you say? I didn’t hear you.”

“I- I don’t know how to swim…”

“Oh.” You bite your lip and turn away. You also cover your body to try and shield yourself from the embarrassment. You hear Dante swim closer to the edge and call out to you.

“Baby.” You don’t look at him. “Baby look at me.”

You relent and look at him. “It’s okay, I’m right here. I’ll hold onto you the entire time and won’t let your feet touch the bottom.”

“But what about swimming around and goofing off? We can’t do that if you’re holding onto me the entire time.”

“I think you underestimate how much I love your body pressed against mine. I much rather be holding you close and staring at those pretty eyes of yours instead of being far from you because we are trying to play some stupid game.” Dante is quick to reassure you.

“Okay…” you relent once again.

“Just jump in and I’ll catch you.” He pushes himself back a bit so neither of you have to worry about running into the ledge. You see him get in a little stance to show you he’ll catch you. You close your eyes and take a deep breath in and out. When you exhale to run forward and jump in.

You’re surrounded by ice cold water but feel two warm around wrapped around you pulling you from under the water. The moment your head is out from underwater you open your eyes to be met with Dante’s determined gaze. You let some air get back into your lungs and place your hands on his shoulders. He watches and feels you relax and his gaze changes to one of pure fondness.

“See isn’t this nice?”

“Yes but it is really cold.”

Dante chuckles, “You’ll get use to it.” You lay your head on his chest while he walks around and gets you use to the cold water.

While he walks around you keep feeling him change his grip on you. You have an idea but you don’t know how well it’s going to go. But at the end of the day you know you can always trust him.

When he fixes his grip again you unwrap your arms from his shoulders and push yourself back a bit. You feel him fumble on his hold, “Hey what are you-“ he is then hit in the face with a force of water you splashed him with. He freezes and tries to blink the water out of his eyes. Once he has clear vision again he sees you dying of laughter with tears poking out of the corner of your eyes.

He smiles at your joy but knows he has to get you back. “You little shit.” Dante grabs the back of your head and pulls it into his chest then throws himself backwards into the water submerging you both. He knows he could have only dunked you but you’d probably be scared and uncomfortable. So he knew he had to go under as well.

He holds you two down there for a couple seconds then brings you two back up. You both catch your breath and open your eyes. You two then break out into fits of laughter. You wrap your arms around his neck again and place your forehead on his while still laughing. Between laughs you admit, “I love you Dante.”

His laughter dies out and presses a simple kiss to your lips, “I love you too.”

You two go back in for a second kiss then a noise ruins the moment. You stiffen in his hold and Dante is immediately already looking around. He quickly walks the two of you over to the ledge where your stuff is by. He presses your back as lightly as he can against the rocked ledge of the pond. His whole body covers you so you won’t be able to be seen or hurt if it’s something bad. Dante slowly reaches for his gun.

You bury yourself more into his chest to ease your nerves. To help you Dante tightens his grip on you while staring in the direction of the noise. The noise gets louder and louder indicating whatever is coming is getting closer. The bushes then rustle and something jumps out of them. He quickly points his gun to see what it is.

He sees a fluffy little gray bunny. He drops his gun and bursts into laugher. He presses a kiss to your head, “It’s okay baby, it’s just a little bunny. Look it’s cute.”

You turn to look to see the adorable baby rabbit. The little thing just has the fluffiest and tiniest tail. You giggle at the situation. You two were both worried something bigger was going to show up and happen. Knowing Dante if it was a demon he would 100% fight naked and not care. That thought only makes you laugh harder.

“Hey clue me in. Why are you laughing so hard?” He blows some air into your face.

You flinch at the feeling but tell him, “I just thought if it was a demon you wouldn’t hesitate to fight naked.”

“Without doubt. I know the demon would be jealous of my killer body.” He says as if it is an absolute fact.

“You’re crazy.” You shake your head at his comment. This man really has the biggest slice of confidence and ego you have ever seen. You decide to change the subject so you don’t have to picture a naked Dante fighting a demon then getting into a discussion about his body. “This was fun Dante.”

He smirks, “Oh? Why don’t we have some more fun?”

You then feel his harden dick pressed against your stomach. Your eyes widen when you feel him grind just a little bit against you. You let out a little groan at the feeling.

“So what do ya same baby? Let’s have some more fun.”

[chvoswxtch]

lucky

pairing: matt murdock x fem!reader

summary: matt gets an unexpected visitor in court.

warnings: swearing, matt being the sassy lil shit he is, more angst, lawyer matt lawyering (yes that needs a warning)

word count: 4k

a/n: are y'all feeling the slow burn yet? it's only gonna keep burning baby ;) as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

[previous chapter] | [next chapter coming 5/23] | [series masterlist]

“Your Honor, the Defendant fired a shot-”

“Objection, it was an accident-”

Matt let out a humorless scoff as he tilted his head in the direction of the other lawyer who had been spouting nothing but audacious bullshit for the last hour and a half, and who smelled like he bathed in cheap cologne, both of which were grating on Matt’s nerves. This case should’ve been over weeks ago, but that Acqua di Dick kept filing for extensions with different excuses, and the judge kept granting them.

He’d been trying to remain level headed, even though it was ridiculous that this case had even turned into a trial with the damning evidence they had, but it had dragged on long enough. The thought of wasting another day in court over this when there were other cases that Matt was behind that needed his attention more only further pissed him off. The arrogance and condescension in that asshole’s annoying voice combined with the overpowering scent of his shitty cologne had a headache starting to throb at the base of Matt’s skull, and it had slowly shredded his patience into frayed strands he could no longer grasp onto.

Gripping his cane tightly with both hands, the dark indigo and violet blooms of bruises on his knuckles turned into pastels, and Matt Murdock took a backseat while the Devil took over.

“Mr. Huntington, your client did not accidentally walk into that bodega with a weapon and a ski mask. He did not accidentally threaten Mr. Ocasio with that weapon and demand the money from the register, or assault him when he refused. He did not accidentally commit a robbery.”

Matt ignored Foggy’s quiet whispered warnings of his name and instead turned to face the opposition directly, and even took a step towards their table. His cane subtly vibrated under his iron grip, something he’d noticed happened since he’d started carrying it around. Anytime he applied pressure, which was often considering gripping his cane was a physical practice to try and reign in his temper, it made the vibranium faintly buzz against his palm. He figured it was something to do with that kinetic energy she’d mentioned, but he hadn’t tried to use it yet.

“Your client walked into that bodega of sound mind, with that weapon and that mask, and the intent to commit a robbery. It does not matter if his finger slipped on the trigger accidentally or if he fired the shot intentionally, the fact of the matter is if that bullet had strayed just an inch to the left, this would be a manslaughter case. Now you can file as many bullshit extensions as you want and try to abuse the legal system to your benefit, but you are only delaying the inevitable, because we have video evidence of your client committing this crime. So when you’re finished being an egotistical asshole, maybe we can cut this pissing contest short, and you can get back to upholding your oath to the-”

“Mr. Murdock!”

The sound of the gavel banging repeatedly against the wood and the judge’s angry voice halted Matt’s angry tirade, making him twitch slightly. The noise turned that dull throb in his head into a relentless pounding, and he clenched his jaw as he pressed his lips together. 

“One more outburst like that Mr. Murdock, and I’ll hold you in contempt.”

Matt could feel his anger simmering in his veins, his internal temperature steadily increasing. He opened his mouth to say something but abruptly paused. In the midst of his frustration, he hadn’t heard the creak of the doors opening in the back, or noticed someone slipping inside. Tilting his head slightly to the right, he focused his senses on the very back row, and he caught it.

Spiced vanilla and jasmine.

A furrow quickly nestled between his brows. What the hell was she doing here?

“Mr. Murdock?”

The judge didn’t bother hiding his exasperation, and Foggy whisper yelling his name again snapped him out of the distraction of her presence. Shifting back into focus, Matt straightened up and turned to face the bench.

“Your Honor, we’d like to present the surveillance footage from the night of April tenth that Mr. Ocasio’s security cameras captured.”

»»———　　———««

As soon as the gavel signaled the end of the session and the sentence was passed, Matt immediately headed towards the back of the courtroom, ignoring a very confused Foggy and Karen who were calling after him. The second he was close enough, he grabbed her arm firmly and dragged her out into the hallway before she could even make a smartass comment. 

“What the hell are you doing here?”

Her own brows knit together as she tugged her arm away from his grasp.

“What? I like legal dramas.”

Matt’s lips pursed in pure annoyance, and she could almost see him roll his eyes behind those dark red tinted lenses. 

“Okay, we need to establish some more boundaries. My job is off limits too-”

“This isn’t your office, it’s a public space.”

“You know what I mean. I don’t want you in my personal life.”

“I don’t think you want me in any part of your life.”

That shut him up. There was a casualness with how she’d said it, but he swore he could detect something layered beneath the intonation of indifference. Something faint, but there, that betrayed her impassive portrayal. Before he could linger too long on it, she changed the subject.

“I got a lead from Tarasov’s burner. It’s not exactly something I could’ve texted you.”

“Why not?”

“Because your phone reads all your messages out loud.”

Her voice was dry, and she made it sound like the most obvious thing in the world. Matt clenched his jaw as he processed that. She had a point. 

“You couldn’t have called?”

“You don’t have a secure line.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means anyone could listen in.”

“But no one knows that I’m involved-”

“Doesn’t matter. They just have to hear the magic word while they’re scanning, and you’d become a target before you even hung up.”

Matt hadn’t thought about that. He didn’t think about any of these things, because it had never occurred to him before. As much as he hated to admit it, she knew what she was doing. She had knowledge and expertise when it came to these things that he just didn’t. Letting out a deep exhale, he shifted onto his other foot and adjusted his sunglasses on the bridge of his nose.

“Fine. What is it?”

“A text came through from an unknown number we couldn’t trace, but it had an address and a time. Soma’s, tomorrow night, eight pm.”

Before Matt could respond, a voice cut in from behind.

“So that’s why you sprinted out of the courtroom. Should’ve guessed.”

Foggy’s tone had a lilt of a tease, and Matt froze. The last thing he wanted was for Foggy and Karen to know about her. He didn’t even know how to explain her. But before he could stutter out an excuse, Foggy was already stepping forward and holding out his hand with a grin.

“Hi, I’m Foggy Nelson. This is Karen Page.”

Her lips spread into an easy smile as she shook both of their hands and introduced herself with one of her aliases. 

“Nice to meet you both. Congratulations on your win, by the way.”

“That’s how we do things at N, M, & P. Winnin’ cases.”

Karen tried to stifle her snort behind her hand and Matt quietly groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Don’t call us that-”

“What? Those are our initials, and that’s how the big law firms do it. It sounds more…sophisticated.”

“No it doesn’t.”

“Kinda does. Sounds like we get paid. Like in money.”

Beside him, Matt heard her let out a laugh. He could tell it was a genuine one. It was the same one he’d heard the other night on the phone.

“And…what do you get paid in now?”

Karen let out a soft laugh as she adjusted her bag over her shoulder and casually shrugged.

“Baked goods, favors, and just enough to keep the lights on.”

“So, are you uh…”

Foggy trailed off, looking between her and Matt curiously, waiting for one of them to fill in the blanks.

“She’s a friend.”

Matt automatically responded, even though it was the furthest thing from the truth. Foggy and Karen exchanged a quick knowing glance, and then Foggy looked at Matt with a smirk that made it clear he knew his best friend was full of shit.

“Right. A…friend. And does your friend want to come join us for celebratory drinks at Josie’s?”

“She has somewhere to-”

“I’d love to.”

Matt snapped his head in her direction, a tight frown of disapproval already tugging down his lips. There was absolutely no way in hell he was going to let her-

“Great, let’s go.”

Karen was already leading her towards the revolving doors of the building before Matt could even utter a word of protest. Foggy was just snickering as he turned to follow the pair.

“About time you brought a decent girl around, Matthew.”

Scowling at Foggy’s playful jab, Matt pressed his lips together and swiftly caught up to him, sticking his cane out in front of his leg. Foggy nearly tripped as his shin collided with it, and he bent down to rub his leg as he hissed.

“Ow! Goddamnit Matt-”

“Oops, my bad.”

Foggy grumbled under his breath as Matt smirked and kept walking. 

“Keep it up. I’ll replace all your clothes with the most obnoxious colors and patterns I can find.”

Despite his annoyance, Matt couldn’t help but chuckle at that.

“Now that’s just cruel.”

“And tripping people with your cane isn’t? Jesus, what the hell is that thing made of anyway?”

»»———　　———««

“You know my mom wanted me to be a butcher?”

Karen and Matt simultaneously groaned, and Karen laughed as she set her drink down, holding her hand up to signal for Foggy to stop as she shook her head.

“God, not the butcher story again-”

“What? She hasn’t heard it. Anyway, I could’ve been a rich man by now, you know. Slingin’ meats.”

Setting her drink down, she laughed as she placed her chin in her palm, looking over at Foggy as she arched one of her brows curiously.

“What happened?”

“Ah, I got this roommate in law school, too smart for his own good, never shut up about Thurgood Marshall. And somehow, he convinced me to leave a very well paying gig at the law firm we interned at to start our own firm so we could help the underserved community instead of the rich assholes with blank checks.” 

Matt rolled his eyes behind his sunglasses, taking another sip of his drink as he leaned back in the worn chair. She glanced over at him with a subtle smirk before looking over at Foggy again.

“Well, surely it’s more fulfilling.”

“Yeah, but we can’t pay our electric bill in casseroles and pies. Unfortunately.” 

Matt set his drink down on the sticky table and tilted his head towards Foggy, his tone dry as he began to protest.

“We have paying clients Foggy-” 

“Yeah, but we could have well paying clients. C’mon, one rich asshole a month, something petty that our conscience could survive defending.” 

“We have enough cases-” 

“One every three months. Every six? We could upcharge ‘em, you know. They won’t care, or notice. C’mon, I’ll take you somewhere snazzy, Murdock. Some place where you have to make a reservation a year in advance with a menu in a language neither of us can read. I could even get us front row seats to Rogers the musical!” 

Creases of confusion settled in the middle of Matt’s forehead as he cocked his head to the side.

“Why would I want to go to a musical?”

“You have ears, Matthew. Don’t ruin my fantasy.” 

While they bickered, she leaned over towards Karen with an amused expression and spoke quietly.

“Are they always like this?” 

Karen glanced between Foggy and Matt with a grin before looking back at her and nodding, letting out a laugh.

“They’re usually worse.”

Foggy turned his attention back towards Matt’s mysterious new friend as he sipped his drink.

“So, what do you do?”

“I’m a ballet teacher.”

Matt was surprised at how quickly she’d answered. The ease with which she lied would be impressive if it wasn’t so concerning. That was probably part of the whole agent thing though, he supposed. He wondered if she came up with these things on her own, the aliases and the backstories, or if they were given to her by S.H.I.E.L.D. to memorize. He also wondered just how many she had. He struggled to keep up with one secret identity, and yet here she was juggling multiple.

He couldn’t understand how she didn’t lose track of her own real identity, or how she didn’t seem to get caught up in her own web of lies.

“Really? How did you get into that?”

Karen asked in surprise, her curiosity now peaked. The journalist in her couldn’t resist a good story, and that profession was unique. It wasn’t one somebody just chose on a whim or out of convenience. 

“I was given lessons pretty early. I think I was…three when I started.” 

Matt subtly tilted his head to the side, studying her. Strangely, her heartbeat didn’t falter. That was a truth. He found himself perplexed, wondering why she said it. Was it part of the protocol? Sprinkle some truth in with every lie to make it believable? He thought back to their phone call the other night, how she’d shared that personal detail about her memories. 

Everytime he thought he was starting to figure her out, she’d say or do something that completely threw him off. As much as it intrigued him, it also left him incredibly frustrated. It was like trying to navigate a maze where every promising turn was a dead end.

“You still do it?” 

She turned her attention to Foggy, giving a subtle shake of her head with a quiet laugh.

“Oh no, I just teach now.” 

“You ever thought about doing anything else?”

She paused for a moment, her eyes flickering down to the drink in her hand. Something shifted in her body language, but once again, as quickly as it was there, it was gone. She faintly shrugged and looked up at Foggy again with a casual smile.

“I don’t know what I’d do, honestly. It’s…kinda the only thing I’ve ever known.” 

Matt was struck by the sincerity in her voice. He didn’t know exactly what she meant by “it”, but whatever it was, she was telling the truth again. He suddenly found himself subconsciously turning towards her, wanting to ask what she meant by that, but then Foggy spoke up again.

“Do you think I could be a ballerina?” 

Karen nearly spit out her drink laughing at the mental image, and even Matt let a dry chuckle escape at the absurdity of the question. A wry smirk tugged at the edge of her lips as she arched one of her brows.

“Do you want to be a ballerina?” 

“Why not? How hard can it be?” 

“It’s pretty brutal, actually. It’s a lot bloodier than people think.” 

Foggy’s face twisted up as he wrinkled his nose at that.

“Really?” 

“Yeah, and it’s pretty hard on your body.” 

“You’re not selling me on this ballerina thing.” 

She let out another short laugh, nodding with a small smile as she brought her drink to her lips. 

“Good. We need more people like you than people like me.”

Matt didn’t know why, but the way she said that, and the certainty in her voice, made something in his chest tighten in an odd way. He knew self loathing when he heard it. It was a feeling he was all too familiar with. But he was shocked to hear someone like her even hint at it. Someone who had confessed with conviction that she didn’t mind being the “bad guy”. 

He felt like he had a thousand more questions, none of which he could ask in front of Foggy and Karen. He had to be patient, which wasn’t his strong suit, and just hope that her relaxed mood meant that she’d answer without her usual smartass retort.

Twenty minutes later when Karen and Foggy got up for refills, Matt didn’t waste the opportunity. He leaned in a little closer and kept his voice low, even though the chatter around them and music playing from the jukebox provided a bubble of privacy for their conversation. 

“How did you go from ballet lessons to S.H.I.E.L.D.?” 

“Just lucky I guess.” 

Matt had to fight the urge to throw his hands up in exasperation as let out an annoyed scoff. He shook his head in barely concealed incredulity, letting out a bitter laugh as he brought his drink to his lips.

“Great. We’re back to frustratingly vague answers?” 

She was quiet for a moment, and Matt could feel her eyes roaming over him, studying him. She did that often, like she was trying to figure him out as much as he was her. But he didn’t understand why. She had the upper hand, and he hated that. He didn’t have a file with her whole life story in it. He could only work with what she gave him, which was usually nothing.

Letting out a slow exhale through her nose, she set her drink down and leaned back in the creaky chair.

“It’s not a simple answer.”

“It’s not an answer at all.”

Another moment of silence passed, and he could sense her eyes flickering around, taking the atmosphere all in. He didn’t know if being hyper aware of her surroundings had been part of her training, or if she was just a naturally curious person, but he’d noticed her head was usually on a swivel, and she never fully relaxed, despite her calm demeanor. It was like she was constantly on guard, waiting for something to happen.

“I joined S.H.I.E.L.D. five years ago.” 

That caught his attention. He wasn’t expecting an actual answer, but that one didn’t clear up anything at all. It only made her timeline more puzzling. There was no way she’d become as skilled as she was in just five years. The ballet lessons could explain the fluid and graceful way she moved, but even if she’d taken lessons her whole life, it didn’t explain anything else.

Matt’s brain tried to rationalize this new information. He’d been training since he was ten years old. He’d spent his whole life doing it, even after Stick left. It had taken a long time learning on his own, but all those years of practice had led to him perfecting what he could do now. It all played a part in shaping who he had become.

In that moment, he had a sudden epiphany. 

S.H.I.E.L.D. may have taught her a few things in the last five years, but something had come before that. He knew then, without a shadow of a doubt, that she had already been trained to be what she was long before.

Matt’s hand abruptly stilled, drink halfway to his lips, and he tilted his head in her direction. His expression betrayed the curiosity he felt.

“Where were you before that?” 

“Somewhere I didn’t wanna be.” 

There was a finality to her tone, a subtle edge that made it clear that was all he was going to get. He pursed his lips in a frown. Her answers were so carefully crafted, only composed of what she wanted him to know. Nothing more, nothing less. Those cryptic answers drove him insane. She’d given him tiny little pieces, but they amounted to nothing. Not even a general idea of who she actually was.

“I like Foggy.”

Matt let out a dry laugh, finally bringing his drink to his lips to drain the rest.

“Everybody likes Foggy.”

“I like Karen too.”

“Don’t get too comfortable.”

Matt felt an unexpected pang of guilt at how quick that had come out and how sharp it had been. Part of him felt like he was being a dick, but another part felt justified. This woman had completely flipped his world upside down, constantly raised his blood pressure, was one of the most frustrating people he’d ever met, and she’d given him no solid reason to not be wary of her. He was right to not want her here, in his special place, with the only family he had left.

But the way she subtly stiffened and sat up a little straighter made that Catholic guilt flare up, and it made him doubt his own reasoning. 

“I should head out-”

“Wait-”

Matt surprised himself by the way he instinctively reached out to grab her wrist when she started to push her chair back. He could tell it had surprised her too, feeling the falter in her pulse under his fingers. He was struck by how…soft she was. How had he not noticed that before? Quickly snapping himself out of that thought, he retracted his hand just as swiftly and cleared his throat, trying to find the right words he wanted to say.

He hated how off balance she made him feel. He hadn’t wanted her to come, and now he didn’t want her to leave. Matt couldn’t think straight around her. All he could do was react. But his feelings towards her were so perplexing and inconsistent. For the most part he couldn’t stand her, but there were moments where he almost…enjoyed her presence, the banter, the challenge. He couldn’t explain it, and he didn’t understand it.

“Look I don’t…want them involved. I try really hard to keep my lives separate.”

“Do they know? About…”

She brought her hands up to either side of her head and made little devil horns with her index fingers, and Matt couldn’t stop the amused snort that it evoked. He clicked his tongue against his cheek as he nodded, a smirk tugging at the edge of his mouth.

“Yeah, they know. But I wish they didn’t.”

“Why?”

“Because it puts them at risk.”

A soft furrow nestled between her brows as she looked at him, and it was the first time he’d ever witnessed her confusion. She was always so self assured, so put together, always seemingly five steps ahead of everyone else. 

“Is that it?”

Matt cocked his head to the side, pondering her question and why she was asking it. 

“What do you mean?”

“That’s the only reason you wish they didn’t know? Because you think it puts them in danger?”

“I know it does. It already has.”

“But that’s the only reason. You don’t worry that they won’t…accept that other part of you.”

She said it as a statement, but he could hear the question in her cadence. There was a rare inflection of vulnerability, and she almost sounded bewildered that Matt hadn’t considered their rejection of that side of him.

“I mean, I know they don’t necessarily agree with it. Foggy…he has faith in the justice system. Sometimes I don’t think he can recognize how flawed and broken it is, or maybe he just doesn’t want to. And Karen…she worries. They both do. It was…an adjustment, getting to where we are now. But…they’re still here.”

Matt could sense the way her features softened at that last part. It seemed almost incomprehensible to her, that they knew all about his darker half, and they stuck around anyway. There was a question that nearly slipped off his tongue, but abruptly four shot glasses were slammed on the table by a very tipsy Foggy.

“Alright miss ballerina, as part of your initiation to the dingiest, dirtiest, dustiest dive bar in all of Hell’s Kitchen, you gotta drink the mighty eel juice!”

Her face twisted up in puzzlement, and she glanced up at Karen, arching one of her brows inquisitively. 

“Do I even wanna know?”

Karen laughed and shook her head, distributing the shot glasses.

“In this situation, ignorance is bliss.”

tags: @the-swift-escape @lambmurdock @lunakkey @Lfdybadgirlsdiw @devilmurdock64 @moonyinthestars @suits-and-smirks @Day-dreaming-goddess @natashasotherhalf @rebel13lion39 @pixelfaery @ebsmind @Mattmurdocksscars @ahhhhhhhydbhdg @ayupcap @thepassionatereader @awenthealchemist @zomtart @superrbffun @buckypops @snicksbabe @redroomproperty @angel113431@18raven @a-sunflower-in-bloom @shadypaperwitch @lizziela @givemylovetoall @dreadfulxives18 @jjprxntiss @bigratbitchsworld @s1xthirty @daisy-the-quake @raven18 @hipwell @scorpiovelaryon @yiiiikesmish @mel-thefrog @Ponyosmom35 @daisydark @xoxabs88xox @punkshyteee @abbyhaslongshorts @wolvierinee @snowflames-world @yomnajir @Fries11 @groovycass

the devil and the widow soundtrack

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[luvyeni]

TWO DUMB VIRGINS ๑. ( 박지성 )

PART NINETEEN. i can do it …

𝗦𝗖𝗘𝗡𝗘 ──── you wanted to lose it . he was tired of being made fun by his friends. both of you thinking he’d pull out fast enough… but what can you expect from two stupid virgins ? …

( 対 ) park jisung + fem. reader genre young parent au , smau · contains! mentions of sex. pregnancy talk. crude language. jokes among friends mature content

jisung open the car door; waiting for you to climb inside. “jesus christ that took longer than it should’ve.” you huffed sitting down. he closed the door , making his way over to the driver's seat. “are you sure jaemin is okay with you continuously using his car?” you asks as he closed the door; starting the vehicle. “he mostly uses jenos car and when i mean uses , i mean sits in the passenger seats and yell directions.” you laughed. “plus it’s just until i get one.”

“do you even have money for that?” you asked. “don’t worry about that.” he said slowly, pulling off. “you tell me don’t worry , but i’m a chronic worrier , i always worry about things.” you stared out the window. “yn i promise you im a struggling student , but im not completely broke , i can take care of myself.” he stopped debating if he should say it. “i can take of you and the baby.”

“we both graduate this year and then i can find a more stable job and you don’t really have to work that hard at the salon , well unless you want to.” he said. “i’m just saying i can do this.” he came to a stop; turning to you. “what?” you shook your head. “i have never seen someone so young but so prepared for such an inconvenience in his life.” you said. “how?”

“well when i told my mom she slapped me for being a dumbass.” he confessed. “oh i’m so sorry.” you said. “then she laid it out to me, she told me everything i needed to do and what i need to expect , so if you ever need to yell at me for no reason i fully understand it.” he placed his hand over his chest sympathetically. “this is such a crazy situation we’ve found ourselves in , but i wouldn’t want to do it with anyone else but you.”

“really?”

“well maybe yuna.” “yn.” “im joking … chenle is obviously the best choice.” “you play too much you know that right ?”

“are you and chenle like?” you felt like you could’ve broken your neck the way you turned. “why would you ask such a question?” you said. “no of course not , we’ve been friends since we were babies.” you said. “yeah but wouldn’t that make you two — jisung we aren’t dating , we’ve never dated we’ve never even teetered on the line of that conversation.” you said. “why you wanna date him?” you joked. “no i don’t want to date him.”

“what about that cute nurse?” you asked. “i’m not gonna date her either.” he said. “why she was nice.” you said but he cut in. “you wanna go to lunch?” he asked. “sure.” you smiled. “but can i ask you a question?” he hummed. “is this a date?” he gulped. “we-we’ll that’s what i was hoping…” he stopped. “but if you prefer for it to just be lunch as friends then — you’re an idiot.” you said. “if you wanted to go on a date you could’ve just asked that date we met at the cafe.”

“you’re the one who said you wanted to just be friends.” you said. “after i thought you gave me a false number.” he scoffed. “it wasn’t a false number , it was a mistake in my poor handwriting.” you defended. “you still had many times to ask.” you said. “i’ve been trying to sell you off to any girl i could.” he furrowed his eyebrows. “i didn’t want you to feel trapped with me.” you said. “is that why you tried to give the nurse my number.”

“i was about to set you up with yuna if i could.” he turned to you as he pulled into your favorite cafe. “yu-yuna?” he said. “why?” you shrugged. “it was either that or yunjin.” he shook his head. “i would’ve said no.” he confessed. “why?”

“because they both terrify me.”

( 🏷️ ). @starsungwrld @neverbeurs @chocolate-scoups @delinalovesriize @cupid-ville @maiyhw @cosmicwintr @nctislifue @httpsxnox @hyunjinslongasslegs @andyyjw @kookssecret @ithinkulikeme @meowmeowhoon @jae-n0 @413ktz @httpjiprk @antifrggile @ourshin @itskpopular @smiles4hyuck @jaeminnnanaaa17 @bbyinni @sillypaperspyeagle-blog @n0hyuck @catdonut657 @markleesleftpinky @clean-soap @janjoonty @veilstqr @mikeeel @cigsaftersuh @kittykyuuu @akirawhore

𝕼 ㅤ𓈒ㅤ𓈒 PREV. TDV. NEXT. .ᐟ

©️LUVYENI

[darkblueindigo]

°•~pinkies

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆

▪︎yes, I'm back...hehe...

▪︎Idk if I'm gonna continue sleepy bunny. I don't have many ideas

▪︎anyway, this is an arranged marriage AU

¡♡¡♡¡♡¡♡¡♡¡♡¡♡¡♡¡♡¡♡¡♡¡♡¡♡¡♡¡♡¡♡¡♡¡

Damian wayne x reader♡

¡♡¡♡¡♡¡♡¡♡¡♡¡♡¡♡¡♡¡♡¡♡¡♡¡♡¡♡¡♡¡♡¡♡¡

Both of you didn't want it, but you wanted it to work out. He was always grumpy, work alcoholic, you name it

Always inside his office, yelling in his phone, but he was so dangerously handsome

That elegant style in every gala, every meeting, every day

You couldn't get enough, he was distant, he talked to you in a cold voice and you answered back with a soft, quiet voice, not cold but neither warm, it was just soft and calm

¡♡¡♡¡♡¡♡¡♡¡♡¡♡¡♡¡♡¡♡¡♡¡♡¡♡¡♡¡♡¡♡¡♡¡

Today, a car left you in front of an upper-class shop. He got out and looked at you and took off his sunglasses

Today, the sun was shining a lot more, which is rare in Gotham. You were used to clouds and rain all the time

Then he spoke with the same voice he always did

"I have a meeting. I'll be back late. You can just do your shopping and don't spend much"

Before you could answer, he handed you his card and left, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the cold and expensive card in your hands

His last name was craved on it

Damian wayne

With gold letters and cold metal

You stood there and sighed as you entered the shop. As you stepped in, you could smell money and luxury

Immediately, one of the assistants was in your hip

"Hello miss, do you need any help?"

"No, thank you, I'm just looking"

You said and began walking more inside the shop

Many beautiful things, but a dress caught your attention

It was beautiful the patterns, the raffles, the color

You decided to try it on

¡♡¡♡¡♡¡♡¡♡¡♡¡♡¡♡¡♡¡♡¡♡¡♡¡♡¡♡¡♡¡♡¡♡¡

You looked at your figure in the mirror. It was perfect. It made you stand out more, and you loved it

Of course you decided to buy it

You took it off and put your own clothes, and began moving to the desk to pay it, with the card that had his name in it

¡♡¡♡¡♡¡♡¡♡¡♡¡♡¡♡¡♡¡♡¡♡¡♡¡♡¡♡¡♡¡♡¡♡¡

It was now your turn to pay. The assistant told you the price, and you sliced the card into the paying machine and typed the pin

She took a glance in the card on your hands

And looked at you with wide eyes

"You are Mr Wayne's wife?"

She spoke up, questioning you

"...thank you very much for the dress. Have a nice day"

You spoke up, not wanting to talk about that subject

You begin walking on the exit and open the door that leads outside

As you stepped outside, you could feel the cool breeze on your skin and the sun's glow making your skin shiny

There was a car parked outside, and a man leaning on it, in a black suit

He looked up, and it was

Nico

Damian's loyal bodyguard, but damian, wasn't in the car

You and nico had a friendly friendship he was the only one that you could talk to without feeling judged

You met one time when you were outside of damian's office waiting for him to finish his meeting so you could go on a business dinner that you had to go even if you didn't want to

Then nico sat with you, and that's how you met

¡♡¡♡¡♡¡♡¡♡¡♡¡♡¡♡¡♡¡♡¡♡¡♡¡♡¡♡¡♡¡♡¡♡¡

■I know.. I'm sorry, it is small but it can do for all that time I had left

■I'm really sorry I didn't post, and I'm so grateful for all the support. You make me keep going🥹

▪︎I'm saying this again I don't know if I'll continue sleepy bunny, I'm running out of ideas

□•□•□•□•□•□•□•□•□•□•□•□•□□•□•□•□•□

Love

Chiara♡

[thatbitchery]

My one career hack is this- if you love something the most do it for fun but get paid because labor is labor even if it fun labor and we don't do free labor. I like my career in J/C enough as in I don't hate it so I do it for the visa and the salary. It doesnt have to make me happy I just do my job. I dont hate it its okay I like it.

I make most my money in my business and investments (reminder buying a business . building one. Aquisition > founding, something you'd know if you just talked to your finance bros) so none of my jobs really stress me that much. I'm also a student so if I get fired/ quit I'll fall on student visa. Also the whole spouse visa thing so I'm not really tied to my career I can just walk out I'll be ok I don't make enough to be stressed by it.

the one thing i LOVE with my entire soul and body is coaching. Me and my masculine energy and our need to mother everyone we meet I was that one auntie that will start giving you life lessons on the train because I'll do everything BUT have children of my own and that one lady that told me to just open my school because people will get annoyed by my unsolicited advice I would die for you and so I don't even need money for it you can talk me into doing it for free just show me how it benefits me and if I have time we'll go. I'll do it for 1$ if you convince me I'll barter for it I coach you you edit for me idk as long as you convince me its not free labor and you dont try to low ball me and we are a fit and I have time you got it. it's not exactly a career but its what I love most SO I don't make it a career because then I'll hate it.

So 3 jobs. One for the visa & taxes, one for the money one for the fun.

FIND YOUR VERSION OF THIS

{Talking to your finance bros that live in YOUR country and know ITS economy >> all the books and Youtube videos etc that exist.

Having more than 1 finance bro that don't know each other so you dont put all your eggs in one basket >> all the online 'gurus' you can think of. (Remembering that quote that says when you are young you are either rich or you are many. Security is in numbers)

Leveraging relationships for value >> leveraging money for value. PS when someone is making a deal and the first thing they leverage is money walk out. WALK OUT

Learning the People Code >>> EVERYTHING on the planet earth }

[m3-kk]

How I got into Trash of The Count’s Family

So I started off with the manhwa, Im pretty sure I was looking for a new manhwa to read since I caught up with the other manhwas that I was reading at the time schedules.

I was very intrigued by Cale’s calmness with suddenly appearing in the world of the book he was reading, The Birth of A Hero. Reincarnation type manhwas is one of my favorite genres. All the other manhwas I read were about women who were also trying to survive the change. It’s just something about how Cale saw everything.. it was so intriguing.. just so intriguing.

I think I got up to a lil after the Plaza Incident when I had to start waiting for the updates. I loved the story so much I did something out of character and started the novel.

I started reading the novel online for months whenever I had free time after and before school. I’d wake up and read the story while eating breakfast, go to school, and once I got home I’d read for hours. I stared at my phone so much my eyes started hurting. I was a slow reader at the time so it took me many months to get to the point where I had to wait for updates.

I never liked reading before this story and I don’t even know what originally happened in my brain for me to make a commitment to the story as much as now.

I literally fell in love with the story so much I gained a love for reading novels.

I took a break once I had to wait for updates.

I started getting into other fandoms.

Exploring their lore and continuing to grow my love for the knowledge reading provides.

Then Ms. Yu Ryeo-Han had a physical novel created. I wanted it soooo bad. It would be my first time buying a Korean book. So I counted my money that I saved for myself and I had more than enough to buy the book.

I went to Barnes and Noble and got the first novel. Once I finished it and the second and third novel were out, I went back and bought those.

Ahhh im so thankful to TCF!

Now I’m a reading girly 😜

Thanks for listening to me rant lol

[sunnylovesgirlythings]

The really sneaky thing that Disney forced them to do is that her trans allegory is obvious…

But only if you’re looking for it.

Issue is that most cis/het/white people aren’t.

It takes advantage of just how cis/heteronormative our society trains the average person to be.

Most cishet people will assume literally everything before assuming a character is queer. Even if that “everything” is nothing. They’d subconsciously like to leave that box empty before marking it as queer. They’re trained to avoid it as an answer by the way our society is fundamentally built.

I went through a win or lose hyperfixation when it first released. And with that came watching as many reaction videos as I could get my hands on. And as depressing as it is? I’d say about 80% of reactors didn’t pick up on the fact she was trans.

Subtle rep is consent given to cishet people to tune the characters queerness out. Regardless of if they’re doing it intentionally or more often subconsciously.

It doesn’t matter if 75% of those reactors would react positively and accepting to knowing she’s trans. They weren’t looking for a trans character, so they didn’t see one. Every character is cishet to them until they say they are something else. Not one single second sooner.

Disney didn’t fail to hide her being a trans girl. The amount they took out was very calculated. They’re a company worth billions that’s existed for generations. Calculations like this are their expertise.

Leave in just enough of the trans storyline that those who are looking for it feel placated. But take out enough that it’s no longer the first, second or even third thing cishet people see.

A trans girl transitioning to the few and just a cishet girl gaining confidence to everyone else.

Because that’s what will get them the most money right now.

I can put a pretty solid bet out.

Years from now? When the political sphere ends this unstable era and enters a recovery era? When queer rights are being pushed in the public eye again? This time focusing on trans people and how “we were wrong about them this whooole time!”?

Disney will spin on their heels, rerelease win or lose with Kai’s story intact (with plenty of merchandise attached to it of course) or something similar and try to retroactively celebrate Kai as their “first trans girl character!”

It makes the most sense to be her. The trans cut of her story was basically finished. It was done. They edited the elements they didn’t want left in out in post.

They will emptily waffle on about “the importance of telling stories the way they’re intended” and make a big spectacle about how much they’ve “learned.”

But they won’t have. Learning from your mistakes requires having a morality that can shift first.

Companies (not the people inside them, the construct of a mass entity we call a company) do not have morality. Not in any way that matters.

They have profitable and unprofitable. And the bigger the company the more value is put on those over the voices of the artists.

Kai’s story is not unique this likely happens ten times a day at minimum per big company.

Disney has likely already calculated what they’re planning to do once it’s profitable to actually say she’s trans. They know it’s coming eventually.

Until then? They don’t need the story to make sense.

disney tried hiding her t-girl swag but she could not be contained

[d3adring3r]

if we're bringing up softhill headcanons i have had so so many ideas. boothill taking u stargazing around a campfire and playing a song from his homeworld on the guitar .... boothill putting pillows on his chest so u can cuddle him without being uncomfortable.. boothill is the kind of guy to tell u stories of his adventures while snuggling in the middle of the night when u can't sleep ..................

I love those headcanons! Here are some of my Softhill takes. Some are platonic, romantic, and with smols or animals.

Boothill loves to cheer people up and is damn good at it. If it's him making you dance with him or teasing your ass, he'll do anything to make you laugh.

He is amazing at listening and providing advice to people who just need to vent.

If you're in a relationship with him, expect him to try to put his hat on your head constantly and randomly pick you up if you're not going fast enough for his liking. No, he won't ask first.

Boothill may be ruthless and vengeful against the IPC, but he's the type of guy to help kids find their parents or assist the vulnerable with putting groceries in their vehicles.

He can be very protective around single women. If someone harasses them or makes them feel extremely uncomfortable, he will not hesitate to kick some ass.

Due to growing up on a farm, Boothill has a soft spot for animals. He adores when dogs come up to him for attention or if cats rub up against him.

If you're cuddling with him, he will rub his face against yours and may try to nibble.

If he trusts you enough, he'll let you rub his face with your hands. Just be careful because he may bite if he gets too overstimulated.

Boothill loves giving kids piggyback rides and showing them his bullet eating skills.

He is incredible at pacifying a crying baby. He prefers making them laugh, but wouldn't hesitate picking them up and coddling.

Boothill sticks up for the underdog and protects society's most vulnerable. He often robs from the ultra wealthy and gives some money to the poor. Just don't ask where those bloodstains came from...

When he's content, Boothill's body makes a whirring sound similar to a cat's purr.

When in a relationship with the cowboy, don't be surprised when you're sleeping, you may suddenly feel his tall metallic frame pinning you down while he's nonchalantly play-biting your neck.

He'll let kids climb over him and tackle him to the ground

His scarf is one of his prized possessions and he occasionally cuddles with it when he sleeps.

Boothill loves to grind gears and will playfully annoy the hell out of you by following you around and playing his harmonica.

He has definitely saved cats from trees before and fed stray dogs food that belonged to him. He doesn't care if he goes a bit hungry due to his cyborg body.

Maybe if you're interested, anon... I'll make some NSFW Boothill headcanons next. Kinkyhill I guess.

[silver-and-riddle-should-kiss]

Headcanons on How I Think Riddle and Silver Would Live as Riddle Goes Through a Body Alteration and Pregnancy

(Working title)

How did it happen?

Since TWST is set within a magical world, it can be safe to assume that one can alter their body in certain ways with specific potions or rituals. I think that, as same-sex couples became more accepted, rituals for one partner to alter their body in order for the couple to have biological children became a more common practice. And in the present day, a good handful of same-sex couples do this while others adopt or do both. I also think that this would be the TWST version of gender-affirming surgery.

I’d assume that a specific field of anatomical study developed in order to see which partner would be better suited to have their body altered, and that clinics for this field of study and practice exist across the world, even in Briar Valley. And these clinics have real doctors in them who understand this field very well and take their work and their patients’ desires very seriously. These clinics even have rooms for ultrasounds and labor if any patient is uncomfortable going to a regular hospital or clinic since many people in the world of TWST look down on same-sex relationships and them having biological children.

So, naturally, Silver and Riddle went to the clinic in Briar Valley after a long talk about children so they could see what their possibilities were. The doctor ran a few tests involving x-rays and drawing blood and reviewing any possible medical and employment and mental health history. These tests helped the doctor reach the conclusion that, if they really did want biological children, Riddle would be the better option to carry the pregnancy given his body’s more feminine build and that he wasn’t under as much stress and demand that a knight would be.

After a number of talks about money and mental state and being sure that they wanted this, both Riddle and Silver signed the papers and began the process. Between the choice of a slow treatment of ingesting a potion that took effect over the course of a week or a quick ritual that would have the change be instantaneous but with a bit of a recovery time so the body could get used to the change, Riddle opted for the potion since the idea of recovering with such a drastic change to his body, though it was temporary, wasn’t very pleasant.

So, a horrible tasting potion and a week later, Riddle had a female reproductive system and genitalia. And yes, he did have to get used to peeing sitting down before he actually got pregnant.

He also had to deal with Lilia’s squealing when the old fae learned that he’d be getting grandchildren.

How did the pregnancy go?/What was Riddle like while pregnant?

I have many thoughts, but I shall put them into this easy to understand bullet list format:

Riddle didn’t feel too weird in the first couple of months, as it was the first trimester

But he was treated like he was made of glass by Silver for a while (sleepy boy was worried about his Queen)

Eventually Riddle did start getting cravings, really weird ones (he once asked if he could try to drink a glass of laundry detergent)

He put cream cheese on almost everything since his great liking for cream cheese was just increased tenfold when cravings started to hit

But his favorite snacks kind of foods during his pregnancy was watermelon drizzled with balsamic vinegar and, funny enough, mini strawberry tarts with oyster sauce

Yeah, Trey felt a shiver run down his spine the day Riddle asked for that and he never knew why

Though, Riddle’s favorite meal during his pregnancy, was spinach and artichoke dip sandwiches (just dip between two slices of bread, brioche bread specifically) with a side of baked-until-burnt sweet potato slices dipped in cream cheese

This did mean that they had to regularly make spinach and artichoke dip almost daily since it can spoil or get contaminated very easily and could harm Riddle or the baby

But nothing was scarier than having Riddle cry in Silver’s opinion, so he happily made his husband the dip every day he craved it

Riddle also took an even bigger liking to Lilia’s cooking, much to the horror of both Silver and Divian and the delight of Lilia

Though Lilia was very cautious about every ingredient, looking up (in up to date articles) to see what ingredients were safe for Riddle to consume and what he can’t have

It helped that a lot of Riddle’s cravings included nutrient dense foods, such as a variety of fruits and vegetables and lots of lean proteins

He also had a phase where he wanted nothing but bread products for a week, even if it was stale (he just ate a lot of cream cheese fruit and vegetable sandwiches)

Steering away from food, Riddle was rather moody during his pregnancy, especially in the later months

He wasn’t mean or nasty, he just occasionally pouted for no reason or for really weird reasons, like the framed photo on the wall looking at him funny

Lilia once teased Riddle while he was pouty and got a frying pan thrown at him since the redhead was in the kitchen helping Silver, who had to guard the knife drawer

And Lilia learned to never push a pouty pregnant Riddle’s buttons again if he wanted to live

Riddle also became an even bigger crybaby

Lost baby bird? Tearfully takes it to Silver

Sad commercial? Either tearing up or quietly crying by the end of it

Wilting flowers in the pretty vase on the dining table? Babbling incoherently through tears

Lilia makes one of his favorite dishes? Sobbing as he eats lunch

Divian picks something up that he dropped for him without being asked? Completely bawling his eyes out

Silver says he looks radiant for the fifth time that morning? Almost falls to the floor from the bawling shaking his body

Anything remotely sad made him tear up and anything kind or sweet made him bawl uncontrollably

It got to a point that Riddle cried about how much he was crying, making him cry harder while he babbled out apologies for being so emotional and crying all the time

Usually a piece of tart calmed him down, and Riddle slowly ate it after his sobs stopped while tears still flowed down his cheeks and Silver cuddled him

But Riddle ended up crying at least once a day by the end of his first trimester

Thus earning Divian purchasing a large water bottle for him so he could keep hydrated after crying so much

Riddle’s mood swings did also mean his anxiety spiked a bit, worrying about things from turning into his mother to choking on his water and dying

Though, unlike usual, his anxiety was a lot easier to quell when he was pregnant

This may be due to him also being very easy to please while pregnant

Promises of cuddles, or a short walk, or watching one of his favorite shows made Riddle calm down rather easily while pregnant

As long as he wasn’t hungry for too long and loved on for about 75% of the day, Riddle was happy as a clam

But what he hated most during his pregnancy was the amount of pain he felt daily as his belly grew bigger and bigger

He always had a heating pad on his back to try and ease the pain and on particularly painful days, he’d soak his feet before bed for about half an hour

But the best thing to make him feel better was Silver giving him back or tummy rubs

It just took a touch from his husband and Riddle melted completely, like his brain was suddenly draped in a big weighted blanket

Also, during every night and every nap, Riddle slept with his weighted blanket while he’s pregnant since it kept him calm and reduced any possible nightmares for when Silver had to be away on retainer emergencies

Riddle did pout whenever Silver had to be away on his knightly duties, but Silver always promised to bring back a treat for him and to be his human pillow for a day when he returned, making Riddle happy again

If Silver left for multiple days, he wrote letters daily and told Riddle when he should be home and immediately updated him if plans changed

Silver also gave Riddle permission to raid his closet and steal shirts to sleep in while he was gone since the redhead developed a bit of separation anxiety when he got pregnant

Riddle also developed a few hobbies while pregnant since his physical activity slowly became more and more limited as the weeks went on

With Divian’s help, Riddle learned to crochet and sew rather quickly and he began spending afternoons with watching Divian calmly work or chatting with the shapeshifter as they both worked on their own little projects

Riddle also got into scrapbooking when Lilia offered to make a pregnancy book for/with him and Riddle fell in love with scrapbooking very easily after that offer (this new hobby led to very thorough and detailed baby book(s))

Riddle was actually surprised just how many pictures of him there were for the book and asked Lilia where they all came from, making the old fae laugh and explaining how Riddle’s awareness for his surroundings and other people basically vanished when he got past a certain point in his pregnancy

Several times Silver would be standing next to Riddle, briefly pointing at a camera Divian or Lilia was holding and telling his husband to look, only earning a confused hum from the redhead as he looked to the silver haired man who was smiling at the camera

Many of these photos included Riddle mid-bite as he ate, with a baked treat or utensil in his mouth

Riddle couldn’t really believe it, but the evidence was undeniable, especially with just how many images there were of him being blissfully unaware of the camera as he happily ate or read a book

This also made him realize just how easily he was distracted while pregnant

He would be focusing on something, only to have Lilia or Divian distract him and make him forget about what he was doing for the rest of the day

Riddle’s pregnancy brain was really bad, too

He almost burned down the cottage because he wanted to heat up some coco and accidentally left the spoon in the mug when he put it in the microwave

He also cried afterwards as he apologized for being stupid, earning Silver and Divian giving him the most polite scolding about self deprecation in the world

When he got pregnant, Riddle’s common sense literally went from 75% (sorry but babie is a bit stupid in that department despite his book smarts) to -100% so fast

By the time month eight rolled around, Riddle was regretting all of his life choices mostly because he couldn’t find a comfortable laying or sitting position due to his belly being so big

He was also just tired of being hungry and exhausted and wanted to go a few hours without a snack or a nap

Riddle also just wanted to lay on his back or stomach again, he hated sleeping on his side so, so much

At least his and Silver’s bed is covered in pillows since Silver is a princess who needs at least five pillows to sleep and Riddle needs at least six pillows to sleep normally

In terms of health, Riddle’s pregnancy was rather smooth

There were no complications or scares aside from Riddle being a little clumsy and almost falling a few times

Even the birth went off without a hitch and was pretty fast, being just under an hour, and Riddle didn’t have any problems postpartum

Though he said he’d never do it again and didn’t care how good sex felt with his body altered, he wanted his original reproductive system and genitalia back

A/N: I’m gonna leave it there. I hope you enjoyed my rambling!

(Tagging @malleide-fever because they wanted me to share my unhinged headcanons)

[natsmagi]

what are your opinions abt people using ych as bases? don't want to start anything but my friends said its theft but it's just a pose? as long as u don't make it your own or smth

ohh very interesting!! i think maybe its being viewed a bit incorrectly here? because arent ych's usually art commissions? theyre little poses an artist has drawn out for you to commission for ur character to be in. this is a good way of doing comms if u dont really have a lot of time for elaborate and fully unique pieces but are still in need of a couple bucks

so honestly, i dont think they should be used as bases...... you can definitely use them as inspo! but dont draw over them like one would a base..... it feels disrespectful to the artist and kind of takes work and income away from them. so, if you see a ych you like, its better to just commission the artist! or, if comms arent open, draw ur own variant from scratch! its ok to use other peoples work as inspiration, just dont draw over it if theyve not given expressed permission to do so

no one can own a pose, this much is true, but they do own the ych drawing. so, when it comes to the ych drawing itself, what the artist says goes

[luck-of-the-drawings]

when i was in highschool one o my biggest coping mechanisms was drawing all the kids i hated getting killed and eaten and killed. and well. time is a slowly ascending spiral. you will find patterns.(i work as a blackjack dealer. gamblers are FASCINATING

[dragons-and-yellow-roses]

*Long inhale* *Extended scream*

[dramarants]

Wanting more homoeroticism in the tension between the show’s leads as the narrative introduces greater intimacy and higher stakes between them, especially in a landscape that lacks queer representation who isn’t a villain or dies within one or two episodes, but also recognizing that core values/motivation for these characters lie in their relationships with one of two major female characters in an on screen sausage fest where the only other woman is a morally reprehensible femme fatale and erasing and/or vilifying female leads in favor of conventionally attractive males is a common practice observed in fandoms that’s rooted in misogyny and justified under the guise of rejecting heteronormativity, thinly veiled double standards, or claiming the woman is simply not interesting enough and not wanting to bolster that mindset

[hey-heigo]

theyre doing an interest poll for the thh characters on plushwonderland and i am. unfortunately. tempted....