#renew one of us is lying please I'm begging you

[angie-daydreams]

Don't think this will work but, fuck it, I'm extremely desperate, so please if you want one of us is lying season 3, sign and share 🥺🥺:

https://secure.avaaz.org/community_petitions/en/peacock_or_another_streaming_service_season_3_of_one_of_us_is_lying/?ccBedub&utm_source=sharetools&utm_medium=copy&utm_campaign=petition-1729582-season_3_of_one_of_us_is_lying&utm_term=ccBedub%2Ben

[proverbsss]

reading you right (father paul hill/john pruitt x reader) -nsfw

Father Paul Hill, Midnight Mass

prompt(s): "Me. You. Bed. Now." [from this post]

[Pt. 2 Out Now!! Linked Here :)]

anon: I had a normal amount of fun writing this, hope you enjoy :) i wanna do a pt. 2 because ofc i do,, honestly I got a lil hot n bothered lmao

notifs: paul hill is a tease!! ; shoe-grinding ; fluffy smut ; hierophilia ; you're father paul's dirty little secret ; denial ; reader begging ; reader's down HORRENDOUS ; terms used: good girl, slutty thing, pet

"You've been lying there moaning for ten minutes." Father Paul chuckles, trying to focus on his reading.

You feel your leg twitch as you lay on your stomach, looking a bit dazed across the room. A giggle escapes you. In your mind's eye a constant stream of images plays- every dirty thing you’ve done with Father Paul in the last 48 hours, a rare weekend’s reprieve from prying Beverly Keane, sitting bedside with her sister or aunt or who-the-hell cares on the mainland. It was too easy to sneak into the house behind St. Patrick’s, and too goddamn pleasurable to leave after the first night. A delightful ease of domesticity has settled over the two of you. And you’re even more whipped for the Father than you were when this whole messy arrangement began.

"I can't help it-"

"It's understandable to whine like a whore while I'm still inside you, but cooing like that when I'm not even touching you is a little ridiculous." Smug, he licks his finger and turns a page. "A man's ego can only grow so big."

“What are you reading?” you ask, completely uninterested, and your voice betrays it. You might enjoy a good book now and again, but something worlds more tempting is sitting before you. In his jeans and tee shirt, only his glossy ankle boots remaining, Paul is a rare sight out of uniform, like something sent from heaven. Or Hell. Both, somehow.

“You asked me that fifteen minutes ago. Or did you forget already?” He shoots you a disapproving, but playful look. He can hardly resist you more than you can him. Hardly. There is that last smidgeon of reserve that Paul prides himself on. He can’t be bothered to think of you as a sin, because life’s become far, far more complicated in the last few months than any one man can hold in his head, and because it feels like paradise to touch you.

Caught in your inattention, you abandon the ruse of asking about his book. "You fucked me too good...." You whine.

"You're going to complain about it?" He laughs at you.

"You're laughing at me." 

"Of course I'm laughing at you," he admonishes. Not to be taken in by your wiles, Paul's eyes trace the paragraph he's started unsuccessfully three times.

"You whine before I fuck you, you whine while I fuck you, and you whine after I've fucked you. You're silly."

The vision renews itself in your mind of last night creeping around in here, your excitement waiting in the antechamber of St. Patrick’s late at night, Paul sneaking up on you in the dark and taking you in that muggy little den where they keep the wine and spare things. You want him to grunt against your ear like that again, to fuck you like he needs you in order to breathe.

"I'm not silly!" You gasp out. He hears the difference in your voice and scans your body with his eyes. Grinning. He licks his bottom lip and pretends the fool. “I want it, please, I want it, I don’t caaaare…” Your caterwauling would be annoying if it wasn’t so bone-deep genuine. Paul could probably keep you here forever as a pet, a secret from innocuous parishioners, visitors from all walks of life, and you’d be satisfied as long as he used you from time to time. Fed you.

“Oh, that’s undignified.” He smiles, turns the page and hopes he can pick up without the aid of the passage his mind simply refused to retain.

You get on all fours and start to crawl over to him. You tug on the leg of his jeans, utterly debased.

“You’re insatiable, you know that?” his tongue flicks and flutters around the word in a musical way that you know you could find better uses for. You nod. His voice. He could guide you anywhere with it. To make things worse, he imitates you. The facsimile of your lust in his voice is enough to make you jump him. “‘Father, I can't focus on my book....Father, please fuck me with your fingers, I can't without it, I need it...I told you pack things to stay because I imagined I’d be enjoying some downtime other than between my sheets.'"

You bite your lip, the adoring way you look up at him unfairly reminiscent of Biblical portraiture, the Madonna (too ineffably ironic), Saint Lucia, devout, suppliant little succubi. Paul’s heart breaks a little, and his cock twitches with interest, which he endeavors to suppress. 

“What’s that look for, child?” He plays up the religious bent of your dynamic, something that presses inexpressibly sinful and delicious buttons in your dirty mind. 

"I do need you."

You pout. Your words with Paul repeating them was enough to rev your proverbial engine. You shift just the littlest bit, yet the friction of the floor underneath you is enough to tease out a whimper. Not totally on purpose, but not totally by accident. John chuckles again. 

“Present tense?” He pretends to turn a page, but he’s not reading a damn thing now.

"I need you all the time you're not in me.” It’s filthy, but it feels true in these moments when all the thoughts are leaving your head empty. 

He smiles one of his private smiles. His eyelids crinkle as he reaches up to scratch his cheek. "Let's not be pornographic, huh?"

"I wanna fuck again..."

"What else is new?"

"You've ruined me." He looks at you then like you’re something to eat. The book is shut and put down. You have your beloved hot priest’s attention. His eyes ask, smoldering, what will you do now you have it?

“You have my boot. Or aren’t you smart enough to get yourself off.” His tone shifts and a shadowy, serious dominance settles in his countenance. Every behavior, every quirk of his expression, curve of his smile, owns and owns you. He may plead and beg to bury his head between your thighs from time to time, on one occasion he may have shown up at your door, his satchel a deceptive front for rope and ribbon, which you were to restrain and blindfold him with. Life’s too short for dynamics that don’t shift and change like the tides. But in this moment, this energy, you are his. And he intends to impress that upon you.

You gape at him just a moment, heady lust clouding your already addled brain. Then slowly, carefully, you adjust your position, grab the upper part of Paul’s calf, and hoist your lower body up onto his shoe, your pelvic bone bumping his shin. Any hesitations or embarrassment that linger in you drown in the deeper, sweeter excitement of feeling some real friction as you roll your hips. Oh. God.

This might be the senseless, reckless need talking, but fuck. Just the sensation of the toe of his shoe right between your thighs, exactly where you need it, makes you feel a little bit crazy. You look up at him in awe, and thank God he’s not picked up his book again but instead is sitting comfortably, his gaze dropped low to watch you, his groin thrusting the tiniest bit forward at nothing, too much nothing. He groans, and you chase your pleasure like a thing possessed.

Words slip out of your mouth without a shred of logic behind them, and Paul tells you to repeat yourself. He bites his bottom lip as he watches you. “Hello? Still a brain in there?"

“I said you make me so sensitive,” you mumble, finding a new groove in the contour of his shoe, where it meets his ankle, and leaning on his knee, shaking, groping for his thighs, all involuntarily. Your dripping, dripping on his shoe, and the thought of how uncivilized that is makes Paul bite his fist.

"Uh huh, so it's all my fault, then."

"Yes..."

"Yes, 'what'?"

"Yes it's all your fault, Father."

“It’s my fault you’re going to cum on my shoe?”

You whine again. Your soul’s leaving your body, want spreads through every inch of your body, intense and blinding, high, so high.

“C’n I cum, please, can I cum?” You pant, feeling his hands wrap around yours, warm and loving. 

“Look at me, pet.” He orders. You obey. His irises envelop you. You steady yours on them, trying to get a grip, breath filling your belly and leaving your parted lips in rapid gasps. “No.”

Your brows shoot up in surprise. Disappointment isn’t the word for it, desire lets itself out as a sound. You slow down, somewhere in a high place you hear him say:

“Stop grinding, slutty thing. Your Father told you ‘no.’”

You sink against him, laying your head on one of his thighs. He kisses the top of your head, and murmurs, “Good girl. Good girl, good.”

Fireworks are setting off under your skin, your thighs are trembling, every bit of you is sticky. “That wasn’t easy, I bet.” He says, voice condescending and sweet, but every bit as needy as you are. You make another noise in response. 

“I’m not done with you, you know,” he takes your chin into one of his hands, lifts your head. He kisses you again, with a fierceness that just sharpens your feeling. “I’m not even close to done with you.” He rests his in your neck, kisses you once, twice, up your jaw, on your cheeks, the ear he can reach. He bites your earlobe and almost hisses, “Me. You. Bed. Now.”

[Pt. 2 Out Now!! Linked Here :)]

I now have a ko-fi! Consider checking it out to support my addiction to cold brew coffee, or commission something special all your own 🖊️

[africanotaku92]

Winter and Spring: A Story of the Four Seasons.

HI!! I'm Sorry i haven't been really writing in a while but!!! i wrote a fairy tale!! Or at least fairy tale-esque story. It was fun to write, (to tell you the truth i've been in a funk for a while.)

I take constructive criticism! Just be polite about it!

@jessesblogg @baaaa-king @omniithe-deer @jadenoryuu

inter and Spring: A Story of the Four Seasons.

Once, when the earth was young and the people new, there was a king named Summer. He was a wise and noble monarch, who lived in the Palace of Sky.  With his radiance he warmed the land, and with his wisdom, he gave council to the people. The King Summer had a daughter named Spring. She was a lovely young thing. Under the loving watch of her father, she danced on the fields of the earth, her joy and carefree nature giving reason for the  festive moods, her sunset dress gliding through the earth, bringing forth the most beautiful of blooms, and the bees she kept provided the sweetest of honey. She tends to the new mothers, who welcome their children in her domain. When she is finished her dance, she retires to the castle, were she will watch her father walk upon the earth, his golden robes ripening the wheat and other crops, giving console to the people, and watches over the young ones as they grow and renew the peoples. The people loved their King and their Maiden, and the father and daughter loved their people.

One day, Spring had decided that she would take her dances further than the fields in which she knew. She went and begged her father for a piece of the wind, so he relented and gave her. 

“This wind is a little weak, so it will only take you a bit further than you’re used to. If you stray further than you know, you must come back immediately. And beware  the Knight of the first, for she is a dangerous thing.”

She thanked her father, promising not to stray too far, then hopped on the wind and rode North. However, the wind was stronger than her father had said, as the more she rode, the less she recognised the land. She saw a dense forest, with trees taller than she could imagine, with some having their leaves an assortment of colours, and others with barely any or no leaves at all. The forest floor was covered in vibrant reds and yellows and oranges, with plants and mushrooms and animals she had never seen before, and the whole place smelled of fresh blood. She was so amazed by what she saw, she forgot her father’s instructions and rode on. Eventually, the wind had slowed, so she knew it was time to land. She landed in front of the largest oak tree in the middle of the forest, and at the base of the tree, lay a woman. 

Her crown was woven from bronze twigs, decorated with the fallen leaves and the seeds of trees. She wore a cloak and boots of animal hide and fur, covered in arrows and dyed red. Her tunic and skin made of the same brown of the oak. She was the most beautiful thing she had ever laid her eyes on. The woman then woke from her slumber, and got up from the base of the tree. Upon noticing her guest, she turned and with her head high, gave a demanding voice.

“Who enters the Forest without my permission? It is not yet my season, so who are you to walk upon so freely on my land?”

She curtsied. “I am Spring, daughter of the King Summer. I intended to go to the fields to the North, but I’m afraid that I strayed too far.”

The woman's eyes widened, and she quickly bowed. “My apologies, young Maiden. I didn't mean to be rude.”

“It’s quite alright, please rise. Though may I ask, who might you be? And why are you lying by this tree?”

She rose and replied. “I am Autumn, and my Forest grows and takes over the land when you and your father have gone to rest for the seasons. I am in charge of the cold North winds. I change the colour of the trees, and pluck their leaves once ready. I wither the crops of the last harvest and ripen others. I lead the Hunters to the best prey, and reap the spoils of the past seasons.I am the Knight of this land, and I protect the peoples in my domain. I was born of the mighty Oak and came to rest by my mother." She then bowed again.

“Young Maiden, your father must be worried. I will guide you back to the fields.”

She smiled, satisfied with her answer, and curtsied again.

“I accept your offer. However, I have one request for you.” She then extended her hand to her. “Grant me a dance!”

Autumn looked at the Maiden, dumbfounded. “Maiden, you truly are peculiar. Have you no fear of me?”

She smiled. “Noble Knight, you are kinder than your duties say. There is no reason to fear a heart who considers others. My original goal was to dance, so dance I shall. But, I'd much prefer dancing with a partner!”

The Knight was shocked, but she complied with the Maiden’s request. So they danced and danced and danced all day, all they way to the fields. Then she was given a piece of the North wind, and rose it home. From that day, the Maiden could not stop thinking about Autumn. Everyday, she would ask for the wind from her father, and everyday she would ride it to the Forest. Everyday, they had something to give each other, for Spring would bring forth strange, never seen before flowers and teach her how to play, and Autumn would gift her the finest furs and meats from hunts, and feed her the bounties of the Forest. And by the end, they would dance and dance until they got to the fields, where she would ride the wind back home. And, slowly but surely, sealed with a chaste kiss, Spring and Autumn fell in love.

Her father had been growing more and more suspicious of his daughter’s actions. So, when next she collected some wind, he secretly followed her, and what he saw filled him with fear and rage. He took the winds back home, and started plotting on how to separate them. He went down to Earth, and met a powerful witch called Koni living in a cave. He bowed to the king.

“Grand King Summer, Lord of all the lands, what can this humble servant do for you?”

“The Maiden Spring has been approached by and nearly sullied by the wretched Knight Autumn.  I need a solution to this problem.”

The Witch looked around the cave and took multiple strange ingredients. He made a potion with them, and gave it to the king. 

“Pour this potion onto the biggest fruit in the Forest. When it is cooked, it will become a powerful poison that will put her out of her right mind. The maiden will fear her, and she will come back to you then.” 

The king thanked the Witch and left. He snuck into the forest and found a really large pumpkin, and poured the potion over it. The next day, when Spring and Autumn were together, she harvested the pumpkin, carved it and roasted the seeds. She gave Spring the seeds, but after she ate four of them, she lost her reasoning and all her memories of Autumn, and she ran away. She chased after her, wanting to know what was wrong, but as they reached the fields, the King Summer took his daughter and forbade the Knight from entering his domain. 

“Wretched fiend! You have poisoned my daughter, and sullied her mind with your lies and deceit! For as long as I say, she will never see you again!” and with that, the king left.  His daughter, who had heard all the commotion, became sick and fell into a deep slumber.

Swallowed with the grief of her love taken from her, the Knight fell and 

Cried. For seven days and seven nights, she cried, and her tears caused a great flood on the earth, splitting the land apart and causing vast oceans and rivers to form. Then, as quickly as it consumed her,  her grief turned into icy, hollow rage. Her heart became harsh, cold and uncaring, losing the very nature that made Spring love her. And with the bitter frost having overtaken her heart, so too did it overtake her appearance. Her hair, once fluffy and brown, now grew long and bleed white. Warm, soft green eyes now turn hard, icy and blue. She trudges the earth on the long, suffering journey to the Palace of Sky, her boots bringing death and starvation to the masses as she kills the harvest and makes the game flee, and her cloak of stars leaves the world a trail of ice and frost  in her wake, her mournful wails bring about the North wind, who only feels her rage, and brings merciless blizzards. And with this new form, she was also granted a new name: Winter, the Prince of Snow, Harbinger of Death. 

The people had not known such suffering before, and so pleaded with King Summer to help stop it. The King went out and saw Winter on the horizon of the fields, and demanded she stop. The newly formed Prince scowled, and then spoke in a stern, cold voice, one that even shook the king to his very core. 

“ I will not end this suffering, nor will i ever forgive you, for your greed of love  has blinded you to the happiness of others. For as long as she does not return to me, I will not relent. No crops shall grow and the animals shall remain in hiding. The sun will bear down but no warmth will come. The people shall suffer and they will have their foolish king to thank for it. “ and with that, the Prince turned and left.

For four months, the hellish season continued. For four months, the people suffered, and for each month, Winter came back to demand for the Maiden, with which she was always declined.  The King grew more anxious by the day. Eventually, he had had enough, and went back to the Witches cave and asked for a cure. The Witch instructed him this:

“Find four items that has survived the wrath of Winter. Bring them to me and i will make them into something that your daughter can take. It will weaken the poison, and then she will be able to lift the curse of Winter.”

The King then made a degree to all the land in search of the ingredients. Soon, three warriors came back with their prizes: the firm skin of a fish that still swims in the frigid cold, the spun sugar from the juice of a crisp Apple that grew in Winter, and a singular Rose that bloomed through the snow. The fourth and final item was a lock of his daughter’s hair, which had not been affected by Winter at all. He brought them back to the Witch, who created a soft, sweet jelly wrapped in a thin piece of skin and tied with Spring’s hair. 

“Feed this to both your daughter and the Prince, if there is forgiveness in his heart, the curse will be fully lifted. However, if not, then the Maiden will fall asleep every time for the same number of days each year.”

The king took back the jelly and fed some to his daughter. She woke up and, having regained her memories, immediately demanded her father to take her  to see the Prince. She saw how different the world had become, and was deeply saddened by the pain her beloved was suffering.

The Prince saw her beloved in the fields by her Forest, and rushed to meet her. The reunion between her and her beloved was enough to melt the frost in her heart. And they danced in each other's arms, laughing wildly and clinging to each other so as not to lose each other again, the frost melting and the plants blooming with each step they took. 

The king bowed his head to the returned Knight and offered him the jelly, but the rage in her heart burned fiercely and refused to forgive the king. He hung his head, fully accepting the shame of what he has done, and is said to still beg for forgiveness till this day. 

So it is said: That Spring Dances the fields and brings new hopes and beginnings, That Summer Governs the world and brings a time of wisdom and gain, That Autumn Hunts the Forest and dances with her love, and brings happiness and abundance, and when Summer ends and Spring falls into a slumber, Winter brings survival and longing.

[latent-thoughts]

Ok what about. Loki calling reader "kitten" while using a vibrator on her 😳

"What is this?"

All colour drained from your face as you found Loki lounging on your bed, with your rabbit vibrator in his hands. He was eyeing it with curiosity, fiddling with it nonstop.

Not good.

"Uhh, it's a massager. Just leave it on the bedside. Let's head out to grab some coffee," you replied, trying to fib to get him to drop the subject.

"What kind of massager?" he asked, not willing to let go.

"It's for... uhh... feminine stuff. You won't understand."

"Wouldn't I?" he asked, looking up from the vibrator, giving you a smirk. "You'd be surprised."

"Just drop it, Loki," you snapped, jumping on the bed to swipe the vibrator from him. "Give to me!"

Alas, it didn't work. Instead, you ended up getting tangled with Loki, who all but maneuvered you in his arms effortlessly.

"Loki, lemme go!" you protested, trying to fight him. It was futile.

"Not before you tell me what this thing actually is. I can feel the lies dripping from your pretty mouth, kitten."

You fought with renewed vigour, though the result remained the same. You were stuck.

"Ok! Ok, I'll tell you over the coffee."

"No, I know how slippery you can be when you want to circumvent something."

You hung your head to the side, not ready to meet his gaze. "It's for sexual pleasure. For masturbation."

"You're mumbling. Say it out loud."

"You're being mean now," whined, feeling deeply embarrassed.

"You already know that I'm mean. Now tell me."

"It's for masturbation!" you yelled, fuming in consternation.

"Ah, I see. Care to demonstrate?" he asked, sounding thoroughly entertained.

"What the hell, Loki? No!" You began to struggle again, even though you couldn't budge from his grasp.

"Maybe I'll figure it out on my own, then. That will be such fun."

Before you could even comprehend what he meant, he had lifted your skirt up and pulled your panties down.

"Loki!" you squealed, your face turning red as you jostled with him.

Of course, you couldn't win. He had you firmly under his hold, no matter how much you struggled.

Soon, you were lying back against his chest, legs spread wide, with the vibrator pressing against your clit.

"Turn it on," he ordered, biting your earlobe as he held you in position by your midsection. "Don't try my patience, kitten."

"You're so bad."

"Never denied it."

Reluctantly, you pressed the button on the rabbit, bringing it to life.

The effects of the vibrations were immediate.

Your whole body arched in response, as he kept the toy pressed to your clit.

"Loki," you cried, hands flailing, trying to grasp something. One landed on the bedsheet, the other in his hair, holding tight.

"Beautiful," he murmured, his voice raspier than before. "Do you want it inside you, kitten?"

"Yes." You were beyond caring for the embarassment now, you needed that sweet sexual release.

"Beg for it."

That asshole...

"Please Loki..." you tried, undulating against the vibrator. "Please."

"Please what?"

Was he serious?!

"Put it inside me," you moaned, pulling on his hair.

"Ah, there you are. That wasn't so difficult, now, was it?" He chuckled, sliding the rabbit inside you, going full length.

You went absolutely insane with pleasure the moment those bunny ears landed on your clit, hitting all the right spots.

"Fuck!"

"Such a foul mouthed kitten," he whispered in your ear, moving the toy inside you in a stimulating motion, watching your reactions with rapt attention. "I'm so glad I found your little secret. It's going to be our little secret now. You'll let me play with you, right?"

"Yes...yes!" There was no other answer to that question, for you were orgasming right then, helpless and lost to the pleasure, your thoughts completely scattered.

--------

😏😏😏😏

[rawresparza]

PROMPTS 2/2 46. “Hey, I know you’re hurting.. but, you’re not alone, okay?” 60. “I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s wrong, and don’t try lying to me.” 68. “I don’t need help! I just want the pain to stop!” 79. “I’ve been alone for so long..” i'm sorry! i know it's a lot but i couldn't choose so take your pick lol. i'm just really craving some angsty barba (barisi) and your writing is always so super amazing 😍💜 thanks already!!

Okay, so this has been sitting in my inbox for a hot minute just because I got a bunch of dupe requests but SOMEBODY watched Company again tonight so I got emo and ended up writing for 79: “I’ve been alone for so long.” It’s super melodramatic so my apologies, I also had a sangria and am an extreme lightweight SO 😂😂😩😩 Hope it came out okay!

–

It’s already half past noon. He’s supposed to be at the church already, the ceremony is supposed to start soon, but Rafael has been staring at the mirror in the bathroom of this hotel suite for the last twenty minutes wondering how he’d gotten himself into this situation in the first place.

He’s supposed to be getting married today. He can’t do it. He should probably let Sonny know.

But he hasn’t been able to move since the realization had hit him like a ton of bricks. Sonny’s probably called him at least fifteen times already, Rafael had heard his phone buzzing but hadn’t made an effort to look at it, and it comes as no surprise when finally, he hears the door to the suite open

“Rafael?”

Sonny’s voice sounds panicked. Shit. He’s been worried sick, Rafael just knows it.

“In here,” he calls, taking a deep breath before slowly turning to meet Sonny in the bedroom.

Sonny stops short as soon as he sees Rafael, an affectionate smile immediately replacing his look of concern. “God, look at you. You look incredible.”

So does Sonny. Rafael can’t bring himself to say it. He can’t bring himself to say much of anything yet and that’s what makes Sonny’s smile fade back into a frown.

“Are you okay? We need to go, I’ve got a car downstairs waiting for us. If we don’t leave now, we’ll be late.”

“I can’t.” Rafael feels like his throat is closing in on itself.

“Can’t what?” Sonny doesn’t get it yet, he has no reason to, Rafael had given him no warning.

“I can’t do this.”

“Whoa. Okay.” Sonny holds his hands up in front of him, like he’s handling a scared animal, and takes a cautious step forward. “What happened? An hour ago, you told me on the phone you couldn’t wait to see me, you said you were nervous but excited. How did we go from that to this?”

“Don’t you see, Sonny, don’t you see it? We’re opening the door, both of us.”

“What door, Rafael, you’re freaking me out, what the hell are you talking about? We have a hundred people waiting for us at that church, you understand that, right?”

Rafael laughs but it’s empty, frantic, a sound that escapes him despite his best efforts to stifle it because the alternative is to cry, sob. He can’t do this. He’s not ready for this, he doesn’t know why he’d agreed to this in the first place, god, what had he been thinking?

“A hundred people.” He shakes his head, scrubbing a hand over his freshly shaven cheek as he paces the expanse of the room. “How do we even know a hundred people, that seems like a ridiculous number, why would we have a wedding so big? Think of all the money we’re wasting on this and for what, so we— so we can share it with a bunch of people who probably only showed up for the dinner and cake?”

Sonny catches his arm the next time he passes, the creases at the corners of his eyes deepening with his frown, and Rafael hates himself because he can see the hurt. He can see the hurt and he knows he’s the cause of it and he’s never wanted to hurt Sonny, never, but he can’t let this happen. They can’t do this to themselves.

“Please,” Sonny says. Begs. “Please, just tell me what’s wrong, we can fix it. I can fix it, baby, but you have to talk to me.”

Rafael opens his mouth but no words leave it, even as he stares slack-jawed at an expectant Sonny whose grip is growing tighter and tighter on his arm with each passing second. There might be a bruise there later, Sonny will feel so guilty, what a terrible to start a honeymoon. What honeymoon? There isn’t going to be one, Rafael can’t let there be one because it always starts out this way for everyone, doesn’t it? Happy, joyful. It can so easily change.

“If we go through with this, it’ll be a mistake.”

It threatens to kill him right there on the spot, utterly destroy him, the way Sonny’s eyes well up with tears and his bottom lip starts to tremble. Sonny’s hand loosens on him then, it drops lifelessly back down to Sonny’s side, and Rafael can’t take it anymore. He breaks their gaze, averts his eyes cowardly down to their too shiny shoes against tacky red carpeting that’s probably supposed to look royal, and he chastises himself for letting it get this far.

Love is blind, so the saying goes. Love had blinded him. Love had brought him here, to a place he’d never thought he’d be. He’s going to lose this. Any minute now, he’s going to lose this, lose Sonny, and it’ll be well-deserved and life will go back to being as it should be. The scales will be balanced again.

“Is that really how you feel?” Rafael only hears scuffling as Sonny crosses his arms defensively over his chest. “You think marrying me would be a mistake?”

“You marrying me would be a mistake,” Rafael corrects. He hadn’t meant to say it. He hadn’t even realized that’s what he’d meant at all.

“Help me out here, Rafael. I’m trying really, really hard to understand where you’re coming from right now, okay, I’m trying really hard to keep my temper in check because you chose our wedding day to tell me you don’t want this so help me out. Do that for me, will you?”

“I don’t know how to do this!” Rafael bursts, his arms thrusting outwards, his hands waving aimlessly between them. “I don’t know how to let this be, I don’t know how I’m supposed to marry you and believe everything will be good for the rest of our lives! We’re supposed to promise each other the rest of our lives, Sonny, do you realize that?”

“Kind of realized that when I decided to propose, yeah,” Sonny counters, “and I thought you did when you, y’know, said yes.”

“But it’s just really hitting me what that means now,” Rafael says. “We’re making promises to each other we have no way of knowing we’ll be able to keep. I’ve been alone for so long, Sonny. Before you, I—” He ducks his head, squeezing his eyes shut.

Alex. Yelina. They’d both broken his heart and they hadn’t even been able to keep their own marriage intact.

“Look. I know it sounds backwards but marrying me will make it that much harder for you to leave me.”

“Leave you?” Sonny takes a few steps back, scoffing. “Are you serious right now? Are you hearing yourself? Why would you even say that?”

“Because that’s how my life goes, Sonny!” There are hot tears streaming down his face now but Rafael angrily wipes them away with the back of his hand. “I am the one nobody needs. I was trash to my father, I was nothing. My grandmother, she was the only one in my life who always accepted me, who always loved me no matter who I became, and the last time I saw her, she didn’t even want to speak to me because she was so angry. She died angry at me. I’m the one who gets left behind and I’ve spent my whole life trying to play catch up and if I marry you— if I marry you, I won’t be able to handle it when you leave. I let you get too close, and I’m so mad at myself for that, for loving you so much. When you leave, it’ll hurt worse than anything. I won’t recover. And I can’t put that weight on your shoulders, it’s not fair to you or me or anyone who’d have to deal with that fallout so let’s face it, we need to call this whole thing off.”

He practically collapses onto the edge of the bed, his breaths coming more shallowly, and he struggles to loosen his bowtie until Sonny’s hand closes over his to still it. He watches tears puddle over his thigh, over the tux he’s supposed to be getting married in today, and he refuses to look up until Sonny gets down on one knee and lifts his chin.

Rafael doesn’t know what he’d expected. Anger, yes. Hurt, absolutely. He certainly hadn’t expected compassion.  Understanding. Love. Maybe he should have. Sonny has always provided all those things to him. He’s quite sure he doesn’t deserve it.

“You can’t marry me, Sonny,” Rafael whispers, his voice cracking on Sonny’s name. “You can’t, you deserve—”

“I deserve to be with someone who makes me happy,” Sonny interrupts, tugging gently at Rafael’s tie. “I deserve to be with someone who loves me as much as I love them.”

Rafael feels a wave a guilt rush through him. He nods. Sonny does deserve all those things.

“I deserve someone who can make me smile after a long day. Someone who can make me laugh even when I’m feeling low. Someone who will listen to me, really listen to me, who won’t judge me or turn me away or treat me like an inconvenience.”

“Yes,” Rafael agrees, “yes, you do. Of course you do.”

Sonny lifts a brow, reaching up to cup Rafael’s cheek. “You know you’re already that person for me, don’t you? My person.”

Rafael blinks. “What?”

“I know sometimes you think you’re not cut out for this. For being part of an us. I know you think this kind of love wasn’t meant for you. But you are and it is, Rafael, you make my life better just by being it. Everybody who knows us sees it, they see how much we take care of each other. It’s okay to be scared of what the future will bring, but we can be scared together. We can work through it all together. If you don’t want to get married…” Sonny trails off for a moment, briefly dropping his head with a sigh before looking back up with renewed determination. “If you don’t want to get married because you really don’t want to get married, I’ll understand. It won’t make me walk away. You won’t get rid of me that easily. But if there’s any part of you that does, if there’s any part of you that believes we’ll make this work, then I’d really love for you to join me down at that church so I can put a ring on your finger.”

Rafael can’t do this.

No.

No, he can’t do this alone. He’s not alone. He hasn’t been for a long time now and that’s something that has been exceptionally difficult to accept as the truth. It’s not what he knows, it’s not what he’s used to, but Sonny has changed so much. The first time they’d kissed had started a new chapter of Rafael’s life. He looks into Sonny’s eyes now and sees nothing but love and trust reflected back at him, even after being bombarded with the kind of fear that might have made anyone else abandon ship.

Sonny keeps him safe, keeps his heart safe. Rafael has given himself over to this man over and over again and has never come away broken for it. Losing that would ruin him, it’s true, but when Sonny pulls him into a warm embrace, Rafael only knows peace.

“Okay.”

Sonny’s breath hitches. “Okay? We’re going to do this?” He pulls away just slightly, hope brightening his eyes. “You want to marry me?”

With a soft smile, Rafael leans forward to brush his lips against Sonny’s. He bumps their noses together, nodding. “I do.”