#the fact the are you lonely living alone part really fits with the are you tired part

[sugarcoated-lame]

Sometimes A Bride | Jake Seresin x Reader

18+ only, minors DNI

Jake Seresin x female Bradshaw!reader

part two of Always A Bridesmaid

Synopsis: You’re having some pre-wedding jitters and there’s only one person you know can help calm you down.

or

You and Jake sneak off for a quickie before the two of you say ‘I do.’

WC: 11.5k (another long one oops)

warnings: a smidgen of angst?, anxiety, mentions of alcohol, smut, fingering, unprotected piv, slight overstimulation, i think jake calling reader a good girl deserves a warning, unspecified age gap (reader is in around mid-late 20s, jake is in early-mid 30s), once again jake being too damn charming for his own good, tonssss of disgustingly sweet tooth-rotting fluff, really sweet fluffy moments with big bro bradley, natasha being the best sister-in-law and maid of honor, jake still being an absolute menace, i'm literally the worst at coming up with titles for my fics, moodboard is not any indication of reader’s appearance

a/n: The very long-awaited (I’m sorry 🤍) sequel to Always a Bridesmaid. Thank you so much to everyone who’s stuck around and shown the first part so much love and support, and waited so patiently for this story! I love y’all 

beautiful dividers by @saradika-graphics 🤍

〰・♡・〰 reblogs, comments, and feedback are greatly appreciated! 〰・♡・〰

You love weddings. 

It's a fact you try to remind yourself of as you take a deep breath, taking in your reflection in the vast vanity mirror.

Hair styled to pristine perfection, professionally done makeup better than anything you’d ever be capable of doing yourself, in a gorgeous white dress that fits just right and makes you feel more beautiful than ever.  

You love weddings. You love the fancy clothes, all the chatter and the sweet scent of champagne flowing through the air at the reception, the contagious laughter and dancing.

But, most of all, you love getting to watch two people profess their love for each other and promise themselves to one another for the rest of their lives through beaming smiles and tears of joy. 

It’s been a little over three years since Bradley and Natasha said ‘I do’, and after meeting the love of your life at your big brother’s wedding, how could you not love them? 

Three years since that fateful night that you met Jake and both of your lives were changed forever, and the two of you have been pretty much inseparable ever since. Well, nearly ever since.

Initially, both you and Jake were scared by just how much you liked one another. 

After spending the night together at your brother’s wedding — and the morning after — you had feared that it was just that rose-colored haze of love in the air that comes along with weddings, and you wondered if that magical pixie dust was going to wear off eventually — and take your feelings with it. 

But it never did. 

Even at the beginning, back when Jake had tried to push down his feelings for you and said he couldn’t offer much more than no strings attached fun, ‘because I’m going to be away on deployments and dangerous missions all the time, and because you’re Bradshaw’s little sister.’ 

Because he ‘didn’t have time for anything serious’ – but really, because he was afraid of just how strongly he felt for you – even then, you were so drawn to him and Jake couldn’t deny how much he enjoyed spending time with you.

How he thought about you and that amazing night you’d spent together nearly every second of every day. 

From the moment he’d wake up in his boring, lonely apartment, to the hours spent in briefings or flying dangerous maneuvers in his F18, to the moment he’d go to sleep alone every night in his bed that all of a sudden seemed too big. 

And, what scared Jake the most was that it wasn’t just the sex – though, that was definitely a great part of it – that he yearned for. It was just you. 

You, with your bright eyes and your radiant smile, your melodic laugh and effervescent personality. You had quickly wormed your way into his heart and lit him up from the inside out. 

He no longer found himself wanting the mundane and meaningless hook-ups or one night stands that places like the Hard Deck had to offer, which had become routine for him since his time as a young pilot at Top Gun. 

You brought Jake’s world from dull grayscale to vibrant technicolor and he found that he just always wanted you around. 

He’d never felt that way about anyone before, and it terrified him.

You’d never wanted anyone so bad, and you were fearful that it wasn’t going to last. 

But, try as you might, the two of you just couldn’t seem to stay away from each other for long. 

Once Jake got his head out of his ass and he took you out on a few proper dates – which, naturally, ended in you fucking each other’s brains out a few more times – you both agreed to try to take things slow, because your feelings for each other were real and neither one of you wanted to mess things up. 

However, you quickly learned that there was no such thing as slow when it comes to you and Jake. Before you knew it, things between the two of you had become pretty serious, and you realized – much to your brother Bradley’s dismay, that the two of you share a very real connection. 

Through all of the ups and downs — triumphs and hardships, happy times and tears, the silly fights and even sillier make-ups that these past three years have brought the two of you. 

From going mad missing each other when Jake is away on deployments, up until his recent request for a more permanent position at Top Gun so he can be closer to home – closer to you –  you and Jake have stuck together through it all like super glue.

Three years of unconditional love and support, of growing and becoming better together, loving and living life with your best friend.

You’ve never been quite sure if you believe in the concept of soulmates, but if they do exist, you’re positive that Jake is yours.

And, you love weddings… so why are you currently freaking the fuck out, today of all days? Oh, right… because it’s your wedding day. 

You’re pretty sure that your vision is beginning to blur, your body growing a little dizzy as you watch the constant stream of people flitting all around you through the glass of the large vanity mirror.

Your bridesmaids chatter excitedly as they too work to finish getting ready, sipping from mimosas as they make their way into their dresses while Natasha – the best sister-in-law and best maid of honor you could ever ask for – helps to keep everyone focused and on schedule. 

She paces the room with her phone in hand, probably texting Bradley to make sure things are running smoothly in the groomsmens’ suite as well. 

There are at least three people at any given moment hovering around you like bees, fussing over your hair, doing last minute touch-ups on your makeup, and making sure there’s not a wrinkle in sight on the beautiful wedding gown of your dreams that you’re oh-so nervous for Jake to finally see. 

Not nervous because you’re worried he won’t like it – he’s told you plenty of times that he’d be more than happy to marry you if you were wearing a trash bag – but because this is your big day, the beginning of the rest of your lives together and you just want it to be perfect. 

After all the months of painstaking planning – from centerpieces to seating charts, the choosing the color of the napkins to the dinner menu and countless trials of cake flavors. From finding the perfect venue, to the best floral arrangements, and of course the dream wedding dress. 

After being so hyper-focused on this day for months, now that that day is actually here, you just need everything to be perfect.

Not even the two and a half mimosa’s you’ve had this morning have been enough to quell the stress currently coursing through your veins, and the buzz of the busy bridal suite is beginning to make your head spin. 

Between all of the running around you’ve done since waking up — way too early — this morning, the little bit of alcohol and all the commotion going on around you now, your face feels too hot, a tiny sheen of sweat beginning to shine through your makeup.

You can’t help but wonder if Jake is feeling this flustered right now too. Probably not, the man is cool and calm about just about everything; it’s one of the things you love about him.

As the makeup artist powders your nose for the fifth time in ten minutes in an attempt to tamper down the shine, you feel your resolve beginning to crack. You try to take in a deep breath to shake the nerves, but feel as though there’s not enough air in the room to fill your lungs and you find yourself feeling like you need to escape. 

As if she can sense your distress from all the way across the room, Natasha — ever the dutiful maid of honor — materializes behind you with a comforting hand on your shoulder, politely excusing the makeup artist and everyone else that’s currently milling around you, before meeting your gaze through the mirror with a gentle smile. 

Though, you know your sister-in-law too well and you can see the concern in her brown eyes.

“You okay?” When Natasha gives your shoulder a comforting squeeze, you close your eyes and heave out a deep sigh, grateful for a moment of calm. 

It’s in the same moment that you open your eyes and give her a nod and an unconvincing smile that there’s a knock on the bridal suite door just behind you, and you turn your head to find Bradley opening it a crack and peeking his head in. 

“Everyone decent?” Your older brother asks, meeting your eyes with a soft look and you swear you could cry.

Through all her running around to help make sure that your day is perfect, you’d seen Natasha on her phone and you figure that, always knowing just what you need, she must have texted Bradley – and that’s exactly what she did. 

Natasha had let her husband know that his sister was feeling some pre-wedding jitters and could use some reassurance that she knew you could only get from your big brother, and he immediately made his way from the groomsmens’ suite to come to your aid.

“Yeah, come on in!” Natasha calls out with one last squeeze to your shoulder before meeting Bradley at the door and greeting him with a quick kiss on his cheek.

She gently pushes him towards where you stand in front of the large mirror smoothing your hands over an invisible wrinkle on the flowy white skirt of your dress, before ushering the rest of your bridesmaids and everyone else to the other side of the large suite to put their finishing touches on their looks and give the two of you some privacy. 

You turn around to face Bradley, standing there in a classic black suit with a bow tie, and you could swear your brother gets a little misty-eyed as he takes in the sight of you in your lavish white dress, a soft smile pulling at the corner of his mustached lips when he asks, “You okay, sis?”

You think about lying for a second and telling him that you’re just fine, but this is Bradley -– your big brother and self-appointed protector for all your life, even when you don’t always want or need him to be, and you know that he’d be able to see right through you.

Blowing out a small sigh, you carefully take a seat on the plush couch that sits in the nearest corner, making sure to arrange all the layers of fabric that surround your lower half in a way that they won’t become too wrinkled.

“Honestly… I’m kind of freaking out.” You tell your brother as he joins you on the sofa. Your voice is barely above a whisper, just loud enough that he’s able to hear due to his close proximity.

You’re looking down at where you nervously wring your hands in your lap when Bradley speaks. 

“Why? You’ve got nothing to worry about.” His words are matter-of-fact, but his voice is soft in that comforting, brotherly tone that’s only reserved for you.

“I- I don’t know.” You tell him with a light shake of your head. “I guess I’m just nervous?” 

The words come out as a question and your gaze lifts to meet Bradley’s before you continue on.

“You know, it’s such a big, important day that I’ve spent so long dreaming of and planning for and– that I’m going to remember for the rest of my life and I just…” your voice trails off as you realize you’re rambling, stopping to take a breath before you continue. 

 “I just love Jake so much and I… I just want everything to be perfect.”

Bradley takes in your frazzled expression, nodding in understanding. “You’re right, it is a big deal, and it’s totally normal to have some nerves.” 

The pensive look on his face shifts to one of what looks like amusement as he glances across the room to where his wife is chatting away with the rest of your bridesmaids, before leaning closer to whisper conspiratorially. 

“I was scared shitless when I married Nat.” 

Your eyes widen at Bradley’s confession, a small puff of laughter escaping your lips as you question him, “What? Really?”

“Yeah,” Your brother’s smile grows at the sight of your own, a quiet chuckle leaving him. “But, then I remembered that I was marrying my best friend and all of those nerves just sort of melted away.”

“Which is why you should believe me when I tell you–” Bradley reaches over to take your hands in his, his brown gaze warm as he speaks earnestly.

“It’s going to be perfect no matter what happens, because you and Jake will be together.”

Your lips can’t help but quirk up a bit at your older brother’s reassurance. “You really think so?”

“Yeah,” Bradley gives your hands a gentle squeeze. “In fact, I know so.”

“Because, I have never seen you happier than you have been these past few years since you’ve been with Jake.” That small smile never leaves his lips as he continues talking and your heart nearly melts in your chest at the sincerity of your big brother’s words. 

“It’s clear that the two of you love each other very much.”

You have to admit it’s a bit of a shock to hear those words from Bradley of all people – sure, things have gotten a lot better between your brother and your fiance over the years, but you’d still consider them frenemies at the best of times. 

You realize that you haven’t said anything in response, being too stunned to speak, when Bradley continues on with a knowing smirk on his face as he takes in your dumbfounded expression.

“Trust me, I wasn’t the biggest fan of the idea of you dating Jake in the beginning, but I see how much he cares about you. Above anything else.” 

You nod your head in agreement, but not without a laugh and a playful roll of your eyes. With your brother’s reassurance that everything would be okay so long as you and Jake are together, and the reminder of just how much your husband-to-be loves you, now you couldn’t wipe the grin off your face if you tried. “Yeah, he does.” 

Bradley takes in the lovesick smile on your face and tilts his head, raising a brow in question. “We feeling better now?”

“Yeah,” Feeling much more calm now, it’s your turn to squeeze Bradley’s hands, nodding happily at him before releasing them. “A lot better. Thank you.”

“Good.” Bradley stands, offering his hands to pull you up off the sofa as well, before pulling you into a hug. 

With a quiet instruction to ‘call me if you need me’, your brother releases you from his arms, venturing over to Natasha to place a small peck to his wife’s lips before making his way out the door and back to the groomsmens’ suite.

You really do feel a whole lot better, but all this talk about your fiancé and his love for you, and how truly, utterly happy he makes you, has you missing him. Yearning to be with him in this very moment, and you realize that the only thing that would really put your mind at ease is right now Jake himself. 

Jake’s head perks up as the door to the groomsmen’s suite opens for the second time in about fifteen minutes to reveal Bradley, adorning a tux matching that of all the other groomsmen. 

It’s still crazy for him to think about the fact that your brother, who was so adamant about you not seeing Jake all those years ago, would be one of the groomsmen at his and your wedding. 

“Where’d you disappear to, Rooster?” A relaxed smirk lifts up the corner of Jake’s lips as he fixes his tie in the mirror.  

“Just went to check on the bride-to-be.” Jake’s smile softens just a bit at the mention of you.

“You know, I never thought the two of you would last this long, so I had to check and see if my sister was ready to back out yet.” 

Bradley drops down onto the sofa next to Bob and Coyote, who are quietly snickering at his teasing of the groom. 

“Oh, ha-ha.” Jake’s smirk grows devilish at the joke, turning his sights on the mustached man ready to tease him right back. “Face it, Bradshaw. We’re gonna be brothers real soon.” 

Bradley only rolls his eyes goodnaturedly at his soon to be brother-in-law, a fact that Jake has made a point to remind him of, all the time, since the two of you got engaged a little over a year ago. 

“How is she, though?” Jake asks, and Bradley can hear the sincerity creeping into the blonde’s tone. 

“She’s good. Was just dealing with the usual pre-wedding nerves, but it’s all good now.” Bradley tells him honestly. 

Jake only nods in response, already retreating into his head, into his worry for you, causing your brother to speak up again.

“Jake, I promise, everything’s good.” Bradley reassures him with a small smile.

“Yeah… good.” Jake nods once more, making an attempt to paint the best smile he possibly can on his lips.

He’s not worried because he thinks that you might not want this, or him – he knows without a shadow of doubt just how vast your love for him is – but, because he knows how you get when you put your heart into something and that you’ll drive yourself crazy trying to get everything perfect.

Jake’s seen firsthand just how painstakingly you’ve worked to plan this wedding, all the months spent making sure that every little detail is just right. 

He knows that all of that time and stress, culminating to this one day, is likely weighing on your mind now that the day has finally come. 

And in this moment, Jake wants nothing more than to just be able to see you – to hold you and comfort you and let you know that everything is going to be just fine.

He knows the old superstition that the groom isn’t supposed to see the bride before the ceremony, but…

“Fuck it.”

The two words escape under Jake’s breath just before he’s shrugging on the jacket to his tux and quickly making his way to the door. 

“Where are you going, man?” Javy questions his best friend, drawing the attention of the rest of the Daggers — sans Phoenix who’s with you getting ready in the bridal suite — toward where Jake stands in the now open doorway, one hand on the knob and one foot already out in the hall. 

“Just gotta check something with the wedding planner. Be right back.” 

It’s not a total lie. Sure, you had forgone hiring a wedding planner and chose to do everything yourself — with the help of Natasha and Penny of course -— but that technically made you the wedding planner. The guys don’t have to know that.

Jake traverses the winding halls of the venue, the anticipation of seeing you building up as he walks briskly in his dress shoes until he finds a door with a paper sign that reads, ‘Bridal Suite’ in loopy, cursive lettering.

Taking a breath, he knocks on the door, and he’s lucky to find that a moment later, it’s you who answers.

“What-” Your eyes widen in surprise and you’re hardly able to get a word out as one of Jake’s hands grasps yours, swiftly pulling you out of the door and into the hallway with him. 

You don’t get a chance to finish your question, because within seconds your fiancé is practically sprinting down the long hallway, pulling you along with him with his large hand wrapped around your smaller one. 

You can't help but giggle at Jake’s antics as the two of you run through the halls, watching his free hand reach for a few knobs along the way only to find them locked, finally stopping when he finds a door that seems to be open. 

He quickly peers into the room just to make sure that it’s empty before gently pulling you into the dark space, lit only by the natural light that shines in through the windows, and closing the door. 

You're still laughing breathlessly when you find your words again, Jake’s own breathy chuckle mixing with yours in the quiet of the room.

“Wha— Jake? What are you doing, you’re not supposed to see me in my dress before the ceremony!”

“Screw that, my girl needed me.” His warm hand is still in yours, his free hand moving to clasp your other one. That emerald gaze that you’ve come to know so well bores into you as he smiles down at you lovingly.

Your eyes lift to meet Jake’s and it’s like any and all nerves just melt away.

You always feel safe when Jake is near and just the sight of him now, being in his presence, has a toothy grin making its way onto your face.

Another giggle escapes you, trailing off into a content sigh as you look up at the gorgeous man in front of you.

The two of you just gaze into each other’s eyes for a long moment, and with a light shake of your head, your grin becomes coy. 

“Hi.” You find yourself whispering into the quiet of the room.

Jake lets out a chuckle, the outer corners of his eyes crinkling up in the way that you love when smiles at you. “Hi.”

Without letting go of your hands, Jake takes a step back to really take you in for the first time since breaking you out of the bridal suite just a few minutes ago. 

Finally getting a good look at you in your wedding dress that beautifully accentuates the shape of your body, your makeup done to perfection — though Jake doesn’t think you ever need it — and hair styled prettily but still flowing and free just the way he likes, renders your soon-to-be husband practically speechless. 

All he can say is, “Wow…”

You can hear the pure awe in that one word and can’t help but smile bashfully, heat rising in your cheeks. Jake’s compliments still manage to make you flustered, even after all this time. 

“Wow, yourself.” Your gaze sweeps up and down the length of his body, taking in the crisp black tuxedo and matching bow tie, and the white dress shirt underneath. Appreciating the way it fits him just right, how you’re still able to tell just how toned his body is even under the layers of clothing.

Jake’s hands tenderly squeeze your own, pulling you a little bit closer once again as his eyes search out your own. “You doing okay, honey?”

And though you were definitely feeling anxious before, you couldn’t be more content than you are now when it’s just the two of you, standing here holding hands with the love of your life.

“Yes,” You nod gently. “I’m just a little nervous.”

You look down at your joined hands before quietly continuing. “I just want this day to be perfect.”

“Hey,” Jake lightly swings your joined hands to get you to look up at him again, and when you do, you see that he’s still wearing that confident smile. “It’s going to be perfect because it’s all coming from you. And everything you do is perfect in my eyes.”

You have to bite back your giggle at his sentiment, in disbelief that this sweet man is soon going to be your husband.

“It’s going to be perfect because it’s us. Together.” You correct him with a playful grin. 

“Yeah, you’re right.” Jake’s hands leave yours, wrapping warmly around your shoulders to pull you in for a hug. Nestled in his embrace, your own arms wrap around his middle, your head moving to lean on his chest, taking in the familiar scent of his cologne as he leans his head on top of yours. “Together.”

The two of you stand like that for a few moments, wrapped snugly in each other’s warmth, Jake beginning to sway you just lightly as you breathe each other in.

It’s with your cheek pressed against his pec that you finally take a look around the room the two of you are standing in, realizing that it’s another suite similar to the one you had been getting ready in earlier.

“You know,” You lift your head from Jake’s chest to look up at him as you speak, a playful tone filling your words. “This feels oddly familiar to the night we met.”

“Sneaking off to a dark, empty room,” You continue with a growing smirk, arms unlatching from around Jake’s waist and pulling back just a touch, his own arms falling from around your shoulders. “Just the two of us.”

Your hands slide gently up Jake’s torso over the fabric of his suit jacket, up past his broad shoulders to rest at the back of his neck. 

Jake’s gaze leaves you for just a moment to glance at the space around you. An airy laugh leaving his lips as his hands reach for your hips over the soft fabric of your dress to pull you a little bit closer, his green eyes falling back onto you. 

Faces just inches away from one another, the two of you share matching silly grins as you think back to the night of your brother’s wedding. A look of pure love and adoration passing between your eyes and his as you both absorb the fact that you’re here, three years later, at your own wedding. 

“Yeah, we’re just missing the champagne.” 

Jake softly brushes his nose against yours, your eyes fluttering shut as he leans in to connect his lips to yours in a gentle kiss. 

Tasting the remnants of the sweet mimosa on your lips, he hums against them before pulling back just slightly. “But it seems like you’ve already got that covered, Sweets.” 

The familiar nickname paints his favorite smile on your lips that has Jake diving back in for another kiss, this one deeper as his tongue dips into your mouth to taste the lingering sweetness of champagne and orange juice on your tongue.

His large hands pull you in closer by the waist as your fingers find the short blonde hairs at the nape of his neck, a groan falling from Jake’s mouth and into yours as your fingernails gently scrape along his scalp.

It’s almost embarrassing how quickly your body still responds to his touch after all this time; your knees going weak, and you’re practically melting into him as you feel wetness begin to pool in the skimpy, lacy white panties of your bridal lingerie that you’ve been dying to show Jake since you picked it all out a few months earlier.

The kiss quickly becomes more heated, lips slotting feverishly together as though one can only find much-needed oxygen within the other’s mouth, tongues swirling in a well-known dance and relishing in the familiar taste of one another. 

Jake’s hands are all over you, pulling your body flush against his as he sucks your bottom lip between the both of his. Your skin feels hot from his touch even through the fabric of your dress, and the realization of his quickly hardening length pressing against your hip has you mewling against him.

Jake pulls back from the kiss, his gaze still hungry, but you also catch the mirth in his eyes as he chuckles at his bride-to-be.

“Always so needy for me.” He slowly shakes his head with that classic, cocky Jake Seresin smirk that still makes you weak in the knees. 

“Me?!” You scoff, eyes wide as you look up at him incredulously, though you’re fighting back a smile because you know he’s right. 

“Well, I’d say someone is also pretty needy.” 

Your hand leaves the back of his neck to travel between your bodies to prove your point, reaching down to palm at his hard length through the fabric of his dress pants. Your brows raise in a playfully vindicated look that screams ‘I told you so’, as Jake lets out a groan at your touch. 

“Yeah, o-okay.” Jake’s chuckle is breathless this time as you cup your hand around him a little more firmly, grinning up at him and batting your lashes. “Always needy for you too, Sweets.” 

His hand wraps around your own to remove it from his bulge, already missing the friction as he brings your knuckles up to his lips in a sweet kiss before letting it go.

Before you even know what’s happening, both of Jake’s hands are reaching down to grip your thighs through all the layers of lace and tulle, a squeak emitting from your throat as he sweeps you off your feet and carries you over the nearest wall. 

“Jake! What are you-” Your arms circle around his shoulders, legs parting of their own volition to make room for him between them. Bracketing his hips as your back lightly hits the wall, the fabric of your dress all bunched between the two of you exposing your calves as he holds you in his strong grasp.

Large palms wrapped around the underside of your thighs, his weight pressed against your front and the wall at your back keep you upright as you giggle in your soon-to-be husband’s arms. 

Jake is beaming back at you, the adoration in his green eyes clear as they crinkle up due to his grin. 

“I love you, so much.” He lifts a hand up to your face, the backs of his fingers caressing along the soft skin of your cheek and Jake shakes his head as if he can’t believe that this is real, that you’re real. 

He leans in to press a soft, but dizzying kiss to your lips before murmuring against them, “I wanna show you how much.”

A part of you feels like you could cry at the sincerity in his voice, at just how well Jake loves you and how he’s never shy to make it known. 

But mostly, you just feel the white-hot pooling of arousal growing in your belly, your eyes glazing over with a look of both love and lust as you gaze back at him.

“Yeah?” You nod up at him in a daze, biting back a grin as you take in the hunger in those pretty green eyes. 

“Yeah.” He places a feather-light kiss to the corner of your mouth that makes you whimper and you can feel his smile against your skin. “Let me show you.” 

You nod your head again, mind in a haze of want at the feel of his warm breath on your skin, your hands squeezing at Jake’s broad shoulders. 

Feeling the velvety-soft fabric of his black suit jacket beneath your fingers, it’s only then that you’re shaken out of your stupor and you remember where you are – what today is.  

“Wait-wait, Jake, we can’t!” Your fingers continue to absentmindedly play with the fabric covering his shoulder. We’re supposed to be getting married like… now.” 

You can’t help but giggle at the predicament you’ve found yourselves in, though it’s very unsurprising for you and Jake. 

Jake’s laugh mingles with your own as you begin to lightly shake your head, and you feel his strong shoulders shrug beneath your grasp as you watch his lips quirk up into a mischievous grin. 

“All our guests–” Jake interrupts your words with another quick peck on your lips, laughing at your stunned expression. 

“The guests…can wait.” He states matter-of-factly. “Can’t exactly have a wedding without the bride and groom, now can they, Sweets?” 

Jake’s smile is smug and you can’t fight the one materializing on your own lips as you continue to shake your head. 

“Besides, would we really be us if we didn’t sneak off to have sex at a wedding?” He finishes off the question with a kiss to your jaw before trailing his lips down the column of your throat, lightly nipping at the skin of your neck – careful not to leave a mark – before soothing it with his tongue.

Jake was right. It had happened the night you first met at Bradley and Natasha’s wedding, and had become a tradition of sorts for the two of you at every wedding you’d been to in the three years since – and there have been quite a few.

You can feel your resolve quickly beginning to crumble as Jake presses his hips more firmly against yours, his hard length pressing up against where you need him most, the friction not nearly enough through all the layers of fancy clothing. You’re already soaking through your panties for him and you know you’re a goner.

You drop your head onto Jake’s shoulder with a sigh, before looking back up at him through your lashes. 

“Fine, but we have to be quick.” Narrowing your eyes at him, you give in, but with the most stern tone you can muster and it only makes Jake laugh. 

“Ain’t nothing slow about me, sweetheart.” You can’t stop the snort that escapes you, or the playful roll of your eyes at his words, leaning up to kiss that stupid grin off of Jake’s face. 

“Please, just– just shut up and fuck me already, Seresin.” you manage to get out through your giggles.

“With pleasure.” Jake’s lips claim yours in a hungry kiss and you feel one of his big hands venture underneath the skirt of your dress, traveling up your thigh and past the frilly fabric of your white garter in search of your core.

When his fingers brush against the damp lace of your panties, you choke out a gasp against his lips and Jake pulls back to take in your expression — your brows furrowed in pleasure and eyes heavily hooded with need. His kiss-swollen lips lift up into a smug smirk as he feels how wet you are for him. 

Jake’s deft fingers press more firmly against that wet spot, rubbing along your seam through the damp fabric. You can’t hold back your whine, already writhing against him as his thumb finds your clit, expertly circling it through the lace. 

“So wet and I’ve barely even touched you.” He breathes out a laugh and there’s a hint of smugness to his words — because of course there, it’s Jake — but you can also hear the awe present in his voice, see it in his emerald gaze that burns into you lovingly and it makes heat creep up your cheeks.

His hand dips beneath the waistband of your panties and you and Jake groan in unison as his fingers make a few quick circles around your wet, swollen clit. 

Your head falls back against the wall behind you and Jake takes the opportunity to kiss at your neck again as his hand dips down further to collect more of your wetness. 

“Already all ready for me, Sweets?” Jake’s words are whispered next to your ear as his fingers graze your entrance, your hips bucking toward them of their own volition.

“For you, ahh–” Your words are cut off by a shaky moan as Jake slides two long fingers inside of you, up to the knuckle in one swift motion. Your breath hitches and you’re practically melting against him, your voice already sounding wrecked as you whimper for him, “Always.”

Jake groans at how easily your slick walls envelop his fingers, gushing with new arousal as he fucks them in and out of your tight hole to get you ready for his cock -– not that you really need much prep with the way you’re already soaking his hand.  

“Such a good girl for me.”

Your walls clench tight around his digits, from both the praise and the way he curls them inside of you, that coil in your belly quickly winding up. 

“Fuck- Jake!” He can hear the desperation in your plea of his name, can feel it in the way your hips chase his fingers each time he pulls them almost all the way out. You’re already feeling so close, but you’re needy for more. Need to be full of him. 

Your perfectly manicured nails dig into Jake’s bicep, the heel of your foot pressing into his backside in an attempt to pull him closer as you gaze up at him through your lashes. “Please, baby– need you.”

“I got you, honey.” 

Your chin falls against your chest and you cry out as Jake scissors his fingers inside of you a few more times before they retreat completely, leaving you clenching around nothing and keening at the sudden feeling of emptiness.

The hand that was in your panties begins to trail slowly back down your thigh, and though you can’t see it through all the fabric of your skirt, you can feel the trail of slick it leaves along your skin in its wake. 

As Jake clutches your thigh in his firm grasp to hold you more securely against the wall, his other hand moves to the tent in his tight trousers where his throbbing length has been neglected.

How he’s able to hold you up with one arm while the other hand unfastens his dress pants is beyond you, but it’s moments like this that you’re grateful to have a big, strong naval aviator for a husband-to-be. 

Jake pushes his suit pants and underwear down just far enough to finally release his cock and you can’t help but moan at the sight of it. Long and looking almost painfully hard, the tip red and angry and weeping with precum. 

Jake lets out a groan as he wraps a fist around his length, relishing in the friction as his hand moves along the shaft and works to spread the pearls of his arousal from his tip down to the base. 

His hand then leaves his cock to push up the skirt of your dress as far as it can go. 

Deft fingers pry the seat of your panties from where they stick to your slick-soaked core, and gingerly move the fabric to the side so he can access your dripping cunt before he grabs ahold of himself again.

Jake lines his tip up to your entrance and pushes in slowly, his lips claiming yours in a kiss that pushes the air out of your lungs, stealing your breath and leaving you dizzy with it as his tongue tangles with yours. 

Your hands glide up the soft, expensive fabric on Jake’s arms, fingers digging into the meat of his shoulders as you gasp and writhe against him. Relishing in the feeling of him all over you. 

His lips covering your own, short breaths mixing with yours as you both pant and moan into the frantic kiss. His strong body, solid as the wall behind you as his front presses taut against you to hold you up, his long cock pushing deep inside of you with every single thrust and leaving you feeling so unbelievably full of him.

Jake pulls back from the kiss and looks down to where the two of you are connected. His length glistening with your arousal as it moves in and out of your tight walls, your beautiful, intricate wedding gown all bunched around your hips as he fucks you, and he can’t help the chuckle that escapes him when he thinks about how crazy this is.

“Wha-what’s so funny?” You ask breathlessly through kiss-swollen lips, your eyes that had previously been shut tight in bliss now opening to search out his green ones. 

“Just— this,” Jake’s gaze lifts to meet your eye as he continues to laugh, unsure if his brain is going fuzzy with pleasure, or if that’s just the intoxication of being with you. 

“My beautiful, perfect bride,” his hips slow just a touch, pressing forward in a particularly hard thrust that has you gasping and clutching onto his shoulders tighter, you and Jake moaning in unison before he continues, panting through his words.

“All a mess for me — fuck– right before we’re supposed to say ‘I do’ in front of all our family and friends– and pretty much everyone we know.”

Your eyes widen, lips tugging up into a bashful smile and you can’t help but giggle along with him, burying your head in his shoulder and speaking into the soft fabric of his jacket as he continues to fuck you.

“Oh god… well, I’m sure there’ll be some time to steam the dress again before I have to walk down the aisle.” 

You can feel Jake’s laughter reverberate against your cheek just before he cups your chin, lifting your face back up to be level with his and beaming at you with that megawatt smile. “There's my wife!” 

You’re both still grinning when he pulls you in for another kiss. Teeth gnashing against one another’s, mingled laughter and moans coming out in breathy puffs against each other’s lips as his cock works inside of you, his hips still moving against yours at an even pace.

“This is crazy.” You can barely get the words out, still giggling between messy kisses. 

“Yeah,” Jake punctuates with another press of his lips on yours, teeth nipping at your bottom lip and drawing out a quiet whimper as he pulls it back towards him and releases it before continuing. 

“It is crazy,” – Another kiss – “You make crazy, Sweets.”

With one more firm peck to your lips, you feel both of Jake’s hands wrap tighter under your thighs, rough fingers squeezing your ass as he hikes you up a bit higher against the wall, pressing impossibly closer to keep you firmly in place. 

The change of the angle combined with his thrusts accelerating in speed has you crying out loud as he ruts up into you, Jake’s lips moving to cover yours once again and muffle the sounds of your moans. 

You shudder against him as his tip prods against that spongy spot inside you that makes stars appear behind your closed lids with each and every thrust, and you feel that coil beginning to tighten again, the familiar heat rapidly licking at the base of your spine.

Jake knows you’re close when your nails begin to dig into his shoulders through the jacket of his tux as you gasp for air, your lips parting from his with a string of saliva still connecting them for a moment that makes him growl as your head lulls back to lean against the wall. Eyes squeezed shut in pleasure as you quietly, breathlessly, cry out his name like a mantra.

Your body is sandwiched tightly between Jake’s and the wall as his length fills you, hips pinned to yours and barely able to pull out on each thrust for how tightly your walls are clamping around him, the coarse but neatly trimmed hairs at the base of his cock deliciously grazing your clit and setting your whole body alight.

He's the only thing keeping you upright when your orgasm hits you. His mouth swallows your cries as your whole body goes taut, holding Jake in a vice grip as you fall apart on his cock. 

Jake can feel it as all of the tension leaves your body. He continues in slow, shallow thrusts, the quiet of the room only accentuating the salacious sounds of your release flooding around him as he works you through your high. 

He pulls back from the kiss as your moans begin to subside to get a look at your fucked out, blissful expression. 

Your eyes are still closed, lips parted and now devoid of any of the nude-pink lipstick shade you’d been wearing before, and your skin glistens with a thin sheen of sweat. 

Your chest rapidly rises and falls beneath the fitted white bodice of your wedding gown, accentuating your cleavage with each little pant as you try to catch your breath.

“So fucking pretty, honey,” Jake begins a light trail of kisses from the corner of your mouth to your warm cheek, and up to your hairline where he whispers against the slightly damp skin. “My beautiful bride.”

Your hands scramble for purchase on his back, whimpering as you attempt to pull him in closer. 

“Jake- '' Your legs tighten around his hips, heels pressing against his backside where they’re crossed at the ankles, your desperate mewl mixing with Jake’s deeper grunt as the movement pushes him even deeper inside of you.  

“‘M so lucky to- to get to call you my husband,” Jake swears that his cocks swells just that little bit more at your loving words. “Cum for me. Wanna feel you.”

“Fuck.” The sweet praise whispered from your pretty lips sends him into a tailspin. 

You’ve barely come down from your high when Jake’s hips quicken their pace as he begins to chase his own release, the beginnings of overstimulation making you cry out a string of broken moans, incoherent whimpers of curses and his name. 

The fullness and the delightful drag of his cock through your tight walls making you clench around him harder, and the assault of his tip against your g-spot leaving you feeling boneless, your grip on his shoulders tightens like you’ll float away at any moment.

The way your velvety walls are squeezing him, your release soaking his length and the obscene sound it creates as he continues to fuck into you, have Jake right on the edge of his own high. 

His head falls to your shoulder where he grunts deeply into the crook of your neck. 

“So good, baby. So good for me.” He praises, peppering sweet kisses to your hot skin, a stark contrast to the harsh force of his hips pounding against yours as they begin to lose their rhythm. 

After a few more sloppy thrusts, Jake finishes inside you with a strangled groan. The familiar sensation of his cum filling your still-spasming walls pulls a contented sigh from your lips. 

Jake’s lips dot a trail of soft kisses along the heated skin of your shoulder and neck, then under your jaw before he lifts his face to be level with yours. Pressing his forehead against your own, the two of you stay there just breathing each other in as you catch your breath.

When the groomsmen realize just how much time has passed with still no sign of Jake, and with only minutes until the supposed start of the ceremony, Bradley is seeing red. 

For a moment, jumping to the worst conclusion — that Jake may be standing his little sister up on her wedding day — and he’s just about ready to murder the groom.

It’s only when Natasha knocks on the door to the groomsmens’ suite, looking frazzled as she asks him and the other Daggers if any of them have seen the bride, letting them know that you’ve gone missing as well, that Bradley and his wife both quickly come to the realization that the two of you must be together. 

So, Natasha and Bradley begin the hunt to find the soon-to-be newlyweds, the latter rolling his eyes before grumbling, “They’d better not be off somewhere fucking.”

Natasha only responds with a snicker because she knows that’s probably exactly what the two of you were doing. She offers her grumpy husband a sympathetic look and gives his shoulder a comforting squeeze before they split up to search through the maze that is the halls of your wedding venue. 

In no rush to move just yet, you and Jake just rest for a moment, foreheads pressed together, your body still sandwiched between his broad frame and the wall. His softening cock still inside of you, puffs of air warming each other’s lips as shallow pants become more steady breaths.

You know that you and Jake’s little er —detour— has almost definitely put things behind schedule for your big day, but in this moment you honestly couldn’t care less. 

When it’s just you and the love of your life, bodies intertwined and relishing in each other’s warmth, shared breaths becoming one, you can’t help but think that this day already couldn’t be more perfect.

You feel a flurry of excitement, your heart bursting at the thought that it’s always going to be like this. Solace in the fact that you’re Jake’s and he’s yours, that this is only the beginning of the rest of your lives together. 

He seems to share in the sentiment, pulling back to admire you for a moment before you feel his smile against your skin when he lightly presses his lips to your forehead. 

One of his hands reaches up to cradle your cheek, those green eyes are boring down into your own with that look of pure adoration once again as Jake moves to speak.

“God, I can’t wait to marry you,” His voice is breathy and full of awe–almost a laugh, eyes crinkling up at the corners in that way that you love as his smile begins to take up more of his face. “I’m so happy that you’re gonna be my wife.”

“Jake…” If you thought your heart was bursting before, you think it’s about ready to break free from your chest now, your eyes glistening with emotion as you lovingly look up at him through your lashes.

“You’re gonna make me cry and I don’t want to mess up my makeup any more than I probably already have,”

The two of you share a quiet laugh, smitten as ever as your hand makes its way up to cover his where it still rests on the side of your face. “But, to have you as my husband… I couldn’t be happier.”

Jake leans down to press a chaste kiss to your lips before whispering against them. “Love you, Sweets.”

It’s only after you return his kiss and those three little words that have become as easy to you as breathing, that Jake finally pulls out of you and the two of you let out a simultaneous sigh. 

He reaches down to where the mix of his and your release begins to dribble out of your spent hole, a shattered moan falling from your parted lips as your head lulls back against the wall once more. 

Your legs begin to shake from the overstimulation as two of Jake’s long fingers push his cum back into you, expertly thrusting them in and out a few times before pulling them out again, and you find yourself grateful for the sturdy wall behind you when he purposefully brushes them against your oversensitive clit, leaving you breathless as he shifts your panties back into place to keep his cum inside. 

Your mind is cloudy of all things but Jake — his scent and his warmth and the feeling of his hands all over your skin, his pretty green eyes and his voice and his gorgeously cocky smirk — each one of your senses being invaded by him and you couldn’t be more content. 

And, you love knowing that underneath all the layers of fancy lace and tulle, right before the biggest moments of your lives, that you have his cum inside you.

Just as you part from one another, a knock on the door causes you to jump. 

You can hear Natasha out in the hall calling out your names and you and Jake share a look, wearing matching guilty smiles. 

However, it’s not long before his smile shifts into a more of a smirk, and you have to bite back a giggle as he rolls his green eyes playfully before leaning in to peck your cheek, pulling back to mouth the words ‘you good?’. 

With your grin and nod of confirmation, Jake leaves you with one more kiss, fastening the button on his pants and straightening out his dress shirt as he makes his way over to the door.

He pulls it open, still wearing that signature smirk on his face and Natasha glances up at him before she cautiously peeks her head in to see you too, hair smoothed out as much as you could manage on such short notice, the skirt of your wedding dress now back in place and hiding the fact that Jake’s cum is soaking through your underwear and beginning to drip down your thighs. 

“Thank god you’re clothed. I wasn’t looking to get scarred for life today.” Natasha breathes a sigh of relief and steps fully into the room. 

“You’re lucky you didn’t find us five minutes earlier.” Jake chuckles as you lightly smack his chest, that ever-cocky smile on his handsome face that you’ve come to love so very much over these last three years. 

You can’t help but snicker along with him when you catch sight of Natasha’s nose wrinkling in disgust. 

“Ok, ew… And you’re lucky I found you and not Bradley.” Natasha gives Jake a glare before clapping her hands in front of both of your faces. “Now come on, hurry the fuck up. The ceremony — your wedding ceremony — is about to start soon.”

You nod your head frantically, as if only just remembering where, and when, you are.

“Right, yeah! I just gotta go… clean up a bit.” you squeak out to your sister-in-law with a bashful grin before scurrying off the bathroom of the suite you’d snuck into. 

Natasha just gives Jake a deadpan look that conveys her slight disgust before leaving the room, making her way out into the hall to call Bradley and let the him know that she’s located the happy couple. 

After taking care of the mess between your legs and wiping off the smudged remnants of your lipstick in the bathroom mirror, you return to find Jake, who’s leaning up against the wall opposite the door, looking cool and calm and handsome as ever in his tux. 

Making your way over to him, you wrap your arms around his broad shoulders, letting out a little snort as your hands reach up to delicately fix his hair where it sticks out in a few places—no doubt from your tugging on it during your recent activities. 

Once Jake’s golden locks are back in a more presentable state, you smooth a hand down the nape of his neck, leaning up to attach your lips firmly to his. 

Jake groans into it as his mouth moves against yours with just as much fervor, his hands reaching blindly for your waist to pull you in closer, and the two of you share one last passionate kiss that you hope conveys both your love for him and your excitement to be marrying him — though Jake already knows. 

“Alright, Natasha’s going to kill me if I don’t get back in the next two minutes.” You pull away from his lush lips, reluctantly and breathlessly, wanting to live in this moment with him forever. 

Your arms unwrap themselves from behind Jake’s neck, but you don’t get very far when he reaches out to take one of your hands in his own, and you can tell he’s just as reluctant to end the moment too when he brings it up to his lips to kiss a trail from your knuckles to the tips of your fingers.

“Yeah, I’m not really looking forward to dealing with your brother either.” 

His words make you laugh in that sweet, boisterous way that he’s so ready to hear for the rest of his life and with that, Jake chuckles and lets you go, his hand still holding onto yours until you’re too far out of reach. 

Jake calls out your name just as you reach the door and you stop short, turning around to face him just as you pull it open. You stand in the threshold, brows raised, and look at him expectantly. 

“See ya out there, my beautiful bride.”

You’re surprised your cheeks don’t perpetually hurt from how much this man makes you smile.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, my dashing groom.” You leave him with a playful wink and that intoxicating smile, in a flash of flowing white fabric as you quickly retreat into the hallway. 

Jake chuckles to himself, moving over to the mirror to make sure he looks presentable, smoothing a hand over his hair and giving himself one last once-over before he makes his way back to his groomsmen. 

Trailing behind Natasha, you quickly make your way through the halls back to the bridal suite, giving her your most innocent smile when she peers back at you over her shoulder with a pointed look.

Your sister-in-law sends you a half-hearted scoff and a playful roll of her brown eyes, but you can see the smirk just beginning to grow at the corner of her lips before she turns and reaches out to open the door. 

“Come on.” Natasha half laughs, half groans, ushering you into the room.

Before you know it, you’ve got a plethora of people surrounding you once again — one giving your dress a very last minute steam to get rid of any wrinkles your activities with Jake a few minutes earlier had caused, others rushing around to touch up your hair and makeup and to finally pin up your veil. Although, this time around, you find that you’re unbothered. Feeling a lot more at ease, and you’re back in tip-top shape in record time. 

You’re practically vibrating in excitement and anticipation as Natasha and the rest of your bridal party shower you with hugs and their own squeals of excitement and encouragement before they make their way outside to the beautifully set up venue to get into their places for the ceremony. 

You give yourself one final once-over in the mirror, unable to curb the smile that grows at how beautiful you feel. 

It's only a few moments later when Bradley pokes his head in the door once more to ask if you’re ready. He takes in the giddy — and much more self-assured than earlier  —  smile on your face when you turn to him and nod your head excitedly. 

“Ya know, you can still back out of this if you wanted.” Your brother jokes, his tone teasing as his mustached lips form into a sly grin.

With a punch to your older brother’s shoulder, you pin Bradley with a pointed look and a sarcastic ‘ha ha’.

“Come on, I’m sure the Bronco would make a great getaway car!” He chuckles as your eyes widen in surprise.

“Bradley!” You move to punch his arm again, but he quickly ducks out of the way this time, and though your eyes are now narrowed at him in a feigned scowl, Bradley can tell that you’re not really angry with him by the way your lips are fighting back pulling up into a smile. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll be sure to hold my peace when that part comes up.” He raises his hands up in surrender and you can’t help but laugh along with Bradley’s joke, though not without a playful shake of your head and roll of your eyes. 

“You better!” Your big brother flinches as you lurch at him again, but this time, instead of hitting him, your fingers reach up to pinch his ear and it’s like the two of you are kids again; you giggling maniacally while Bradley — now a big, tough 6’1 fighter pilot — yelps in pain, arms flailing as he tries to get out of your grip.

He’d probably pull your hair like he did when you were kids too, if it wasn’t all styled to perfection with your beautiful sheer veil pinned to the crown of it, all ready for your big day. 

“I will, I will!” Bradley hisses through his teeth, chuckling as you release your hold on him to grab your bouquet that’s a beautiful mix of both yours and Jake’s favorite flowers, and then move to link your arm with his to begin the path down the hall. The path to the rest of your life and you couldn’t be more excited. 

As your brother guides you through the venue’s winding halls towards the doors to where the outdoor ceremony is being held, a gentle grin befalls your lips as you think about how you got here — and your big brother’s part in all of it. 

“You know… I know you told all the guys at your wedding to steer clear of me.” 

Bradley stops in his tracks at your divulgence, pulling you to a quick stop as well and nearly tripping you over your heels and the fabric of your long wedding gown.

“You wha- huh? You know?!” 

Admittedly, Bradley thought he was taking that secret to his grave.

“Yeah, I know.” You can’t help but giggle at your brother’s flustered expression. “Jake told me, a few months after we started dating.”

You’ve known for almost three years and you never said anything. Huh. 

Bradley stands there with his lips parted, but no words are coming out. He’s still in shock at the fact that you’re laughing about this. 

“So… you’re not mad?” He asks the question apprehensively, a grimace on his face as he awaits your answer. 

“No, I’m not mad.” You shake your head, still smiling as an airy laugh escapes you. 

“Well, maybe I was for like a second back then. But, I appreciate how much you want to protect me, Bradley. Even if it does make you an idiot sometimes.” 

You playfully roll your eyes and Bradley finally relaxes, shoulders dropping as he laughs along with you. 

“For what it’s worth, you and Jake actually aren’t a half-bad couple.” You playfully smack his chest in response to the — albeit sweet — jest. 

“Thank you.” You beam up at your brother, content knowing that that’s his way of letting you know he truly is happy for you and Jake. 

Bradley links his arm with yours again and continues leading you towards the doors. “I wish Mom and Dad could see how beautiful you look today. They’d be so proud.” 

“Oh, come on, Bradley! You’re gonna make me cry off my makeup!” You whisper-yell at him half jokingly as you finally reach the doors that will lead you out to the ceremony — to where you’ll very soon be married to the love of your life. 

“Me too.” Giving Bradley’s arm a gentle squeeze, the two of you share a smile, knowing that your parents will be there in spirit. And grateful for the fact that your uncle Mav who’s always been like a third parent to you will be there too. “Now, come on. Let’s go get me married!”

The wedding ceremony goes off without a hitch — albeit a little bit later than planned. 

When the music starts and Bradley walks you down the aisle, you’re surrounded by the smiling faces of friends and family. 

Although, your eyes are only on Jake — looking so unbelievably handsome in his tux and his wide smile and you can’t believe just how lucky you got — and his mossy green eyes are focused on only you. 

Both of your eyes shine with tears and it’s as if only the two of you exist in that moment when you meet him at the altar, the two of you happily joining hands with matching lovesick grins adorning your faces.

Though he’ll never admit it — and Natasha will never let him live it down — Bradley definitely shed a few tears himself as he listened to you and Jake exchange your vows. 

It’s been a long day of running around getting ready for the ceremony — and sneaking off for a quickie, of course — before marrying your soulmate in front of practically everyone you know, then taking countless family photos and enjoying a cocktail hour with your friends and family showering you and Jake in congratulations and well wishes. 

But, it’s all worth it because you’re finally able to call Jake your husband and you couldn’t be happier.

You’re both more than ready for the reception, ready to let loose and enjoy your time together as a newlyweded couple. 

After a nice dinner comes the best man and maid of honor speeches from Javy and Natasha, and a speech from Uncle Mav that includes a few embarrassing anecdotes about your childhood that have you giggling as you hide your face in Jake’s shoulder. 

Then it’s time for the newlyweds to make a toast before sharing your first dance to Fleetwood Mac’s Everywhere, the first song you and Jake danced to on the night when you met three years ago at your brother’s wedding. 

The two of you hold each other close and sway along to the music without a care in the world, Jake dipping you towards the end of the song and claiming your lips in a long kiss that has the entire room cheering — although again, it’s as if you and Jake are the only two who exist in that moment.

When Jake pulls back from the kiss, one of his large palms is still cupping your cheek, fingers gently grazing your skin as his green eyes gaze down at you in adoration. 

“I can’t believe you’re my wife.” He lightly shakes his head in disbelief. “I’m never gonna stop saying that — my wife.”

You’re smiling against one another’s lips as you pull Jake down for another kiss, giggling when you mouth parts from his. 

“I love you so much, my husband.”

You can see that familiar look of both adoration and hunger beginning to overtake Jake’s features in response to your words as your first dance comes to an end.

After sharing what would traditionally be a father-daughter dance with Mav, he returns you into your husband’s loving arms as others begin to join in on the fun, the dance floor now filling up with your guests. 

Jake sees his opportunity to whisk you away from the dancefloor, using the commotion to make a sneaky getaway — again. 

You should be used to it by now — his large hand warmly encompassing yours and pulling you along with him — but you still can’t help the giggles that break free as you quicken your pace to match his as best as you can in your heels, sprinting until the two of you have disappeared from dancefloor, and soon from your wedding reception entirely.   

Out of the ballroom doors and into the empty hallway, the loud music and sounds of your guests having fun now a muffled to barely-there background noise, you find yourself alone with Jake. Your husband.

You pull on Jake’s hand to bring him to a stop in front of you, turning him around and pulling him in closer to you as you lean your back against the closed door, gazing up at him with a lip-bitten smile. 

“What are we doing?” You question through a breathless laugh, although you’re pretty sure you already know the answer. 

Jake’s broad frame crowds you in closer to the door and you find your breaths coming in quicker as he presses the front of his body up against yours.

Your eyes flutter shut as he leans down even closer, his nose gently brushing yours, lips just shy of touching your own. His breath fans against them and it sends a shiver down your spine, a jolt going straight to your core when he speaks.

“Well, we’ve gotta consummate our marriage, Sweets.” Jake whispers against you, his mouth just barely grazing your own. “And I’d like to consummate it as soon as possible.”

The evident hunger in his voice has you frantically nodding against him, eyes still squeezed shut when you feel his front press impossibly closer to you — and the growing bulge there. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, honey. Gonna consummate the shit out of you.” 

Jake’s whispered words, and their mirthy tone, have you bursting into a fit of giggles, your head falling back against the door behind you. His own laugh joins in with yours as you shake your head at his silliness. You love this man so much.

Your hands reach up to the sides of his neck to pull your husband down for a kiss, lips and teeth clashing as neither of you can break the smiles from your faces. 

“You’re such a dork, Seresin.” You whisper sweetly against Jake’s lips.

“Yeah, but you love it… Mrs. Seresin.” His large hands squeeze your hips, both the heat you feel on your skin through the lacy fabric of your dress and the name making you giddy.

“Well… lead the way, Mr. Seresin!” 

You’re unable to contain the massive smile that breaks out on your face as Jake presses one last kiss to your lips, before grabbing your hand and beginning to pull you along with him once more, and you don’t care where takes you as long as your hand gets to be intertwined with his for the rest of your lives. 

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Thank you for reading! x

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[kaisaerinlover]

tw: mention of abuse

michael kaiser’s birthday, the twelfth to be precise, marked the first time he ever did something for himself. it’s when his life really began, when he finally started the long path of living for himself instead of just to serve as a punching bag for his piece of shit dad. a day when he became more than just a remnant of everything his mother left behind after she abandoned the small family that she began to build.

and now his twenty first birthday marks a new change in his life too. nine years after the fact. christmas means nothing to kaiser, so it means nothing to you too. kaiser doesn’t like getting gifts, they’re worthless to him. he has enough money, and was never taught how to react. but you are a gift within yourself, maybe the first one that he ever received. he knows he doesn’t know to act with you either, the same sadness he feels when he receives a present from somebody washing over him every time he mistreats you, his best gift. you’re the best thing within the possession of his cold hands and even colder heart; he swears he loves you. he loves you so much, you are everything and nothing all at once, he just can’t help himself.

he never gives himself a rest; after all, holidays are worthless to him. he doesn’t do christmas festivities, maybe he’ll take you to one of the many christmas markets berlin has to offer to get yourself some nice things, a sweet outing. a weak and cowardly apology for all the bad he does to you. he’s a fucking coward, he knows it. he can’t cover your bruises and cracks with cold hard cash forever, but you won’t care, you love him too. that’s the only festivity he doesn’t refuse to participate in. no rest and no breaks - he only has time for practice on christmas.

training in the empty club facility when everyone else is at home with their families, their wives, parents, hell some of his teammates have began building families already. he could never do that though, kaiser is a vindictive man; don’t let any of these words fool you into believing he is anything but evil and manipulative. kaiser knows himself what type of person he is. he knows he’s scum of the earth, but for the most part he simply doesn’t care. one of the very small amount of considerate things he has done is decide to not have children. he doesn’t want to hurt his own child someday, doesn’t want to have you pack up and leave just like his mother. doesn’t want to subject anyone to the torment he grew up with all those years ago. he only thinks he can’t fix all of the bad caused by his brutish nature to you with cash because even after almost a decade of being away from the shithead he’s forced to call his father, he still isn’t fully healed. hell, that’s why he takes it out on you so much. he kicks the ball extra hard at the thought of that. he’s a real piece of work, and if he wasn’t so selfish, he would leave you. it’s best for you anyway.

on the walk home in the snow he ponders hard. he didn’t want kids, so why did he allow himself a girlfriend. kaiser is a selfish man, he’s a really fucking disgusting person (don’t doubt it, seriously) so why is he indulging himself with you? he’s not quite sure himself, he also refuses to acknowledge the warmth that grew and expanded since he met you and passed time with you. he didn’t drive today, the streets are cold and quiet and he likes the alone time. the winter is cold and lonely, a fitting sentiment for him. solitude matches him the best, which again leads to the question, why does he indulge himself in you so much? he’s trudging through the snow on the path, fresh snow. pure white and innocent snow. it reminds him of you. you’re so sweet, pliable, innocent. everything he isn’t. every crunch he hears from under his boots, every piece of dirt he imagines he’s leaving in his trail; it reminds him of you. how he’s so scared to corrupt you. but he only thinks of the negatives and never the positives. stupid micha, doesn’t he realise the snow is still falling? fresh snow covering his tracks, covering the dirt and cleansing all of the bad - of course he doesn’t think of that, this man is so in his head!

stepping into the warmth of his lavish house is liberating. a stark contrast from the cold nonstop nipping at his nose. the man is white as the snow outside, his face probably looks ridiculously red. he lazily kicks off his boots and unzips his coat and tosses it across one of the stools for the kitchen island; you’ll clean it up anyway, you always do.

he glances at your empty cup on the island. it’s cute and pink, like you. you’re so sweet. but he’s a little disheartened, you’re probably asleep already. he glances at the grandiose clock you insisted you had to buy for the kitchen which sits on the wall above a picture of you two sitting next to each other. it’s 11pm, he didn’t realise it was so late. no wonder he’s so worn out. he lazily crosses off the 24th before he trudges upstairs and goes to bed. he smiled a bit when he did, you decorated the 25th with such cute stickers and a big pink heart drawn around it. you’d never forget his birthday, even if he wanted you to oh so desperately. sweet angel that you are.

he strips and flops into bed next to you, feeling your warmth and gentle breathing is enough to lull him to sleep instantaneously. he’ll shower in the morning, he can’t be fucking bothered right now; cut him some slack too, it’s his birthday!

as soon as you hear him snore you jolt up. michael kaiser you will not escape your birthday, you promise him that in your head. missing christmas is a crime in itself that maybe you can let slide (well not really, he always indulges you and lets you put up a few decorations around the house. but you digress.)

you work yourself tirelessly putting up birthday decorations and getting the food you had baked by a pretty expensive baker a few days ago for him, and you also baked him a cake yourself. you’re surprised he didn’t notice the white boxes in the fridge, but honestly christmas season is when he stresses himself out the most with soccer; so it doesn’t surprise you the more you think about it. he must be really tired ‘cause you almost fell down trying to hang up the big ribbon banner at least five times and not once was he awoken by the nuances of the night caused by your sub par decorating abilities.

kaiser is awoken suddenly, and he jolts up confused and (embarrassingly) a bit frightened. but he breathes a sigh of relief when he sees your big eyes in front of his face blinking. he’d be a bit alarmed if it was anyone else but you’ve always been a bit of an odd one, so he just brings his hand up to lightly pet your cheek as he yawns. “morning engel, why are you all up in my face, it’s too early” his voice is really hot after he’s just woken up, you observe. “micha, it’s your birthday” you say in an oh so monotone voice. he knows it’s his birthday, so why are you telling him this?

his question is answered when you throw yourself on the bed out of his face in exhaustion and he sees what you’ve done to your shared room. balloons and a nice happy birthday banner across the wall directly infront of your bed, ribbons everywhere, sweetly wrapped gift boxes and a bowl of his favourite garlic bread rust sitting next to a birthday cake and cupcakes. he’s actually in awe, like, really. he doesn’t know how to react at all. he just looks at your form flopped down on the bed in exhaustion and feels even worse seeing the bruises he’s left on you before, feels even more guilty for all the harsh obscenities he’s shouted at you more times than any normal person would like to admit. he swallows the build up of saliva caught in his mouth he didn’t even realise was there.

“das alles ist für mich...? du hast das getan...?” he swallows again. his throat is so dry, his voice shakes a little. he really can’t believe it. he is showered in love every day by adoring fans and the whole nation of germany. the whole world for that matter, he’s one of the best players of today. he’s a prodigy, a gem, a talent and everything else synonymous to this. yet all the love and adoration thrown at him by all of these people cannot even compare even by a tiny fraction to your love. your adoration. the way you cherish him. he’s so blessed, he never believed in gods before, he believes in the impossible but not those types of things. he’s not a follower he’s a leader, he is the only god. but jesus fucking christ, god has to be real. you must be one of his angels, he swears it. you’re way too fucking good to be true.

you prop yourself up on your elbows to answer him, “ja, who else?” and kaiser’s eyes seriously water, he’s not even the emotional type, but he’s a bit moved. he also tries to uphold that stoic front of his, but man, he’s just so affected by this. in a good way; at least he thinks it’s good. he just can’t hold it anymore and shifts to pin you down to the bed and kiss your face all over. he feels even more bad about the black eye he gave you too. you’re too good for him, you really are. he feels his heart clench a bit; an unknown sensation. he loves you so much, he really does, and he knows he’s so disgusting sometimes and he doesn’t show it, but he promises he does. he shoves his tongue down your throat and grips your wrists so tight they could shatter, but he doesn’t care. he’s so fucking in love with you, you’re so fucking sweet. you’re panting for air and you’re seriously in pain from his rough display of love, but when are you not hurt by this man? you are light and he is dark, you are an angel and he’s the sin of man embodied. you are every single good thing in this universe and he is the complete opposite. you both acknowledge this, and usually he relishes in the dynamic. but he feels so guilty. you’re as sweet as sugar. he’s kissing you so hungrily; as if he wants to eat you.

when he finally pulls away, he’s hovering over you. his hair is so beautiful, he’s so beautiful like this. you have to blow a piece of his hair out of your eye, and he laughs. you’re priceless, you really are. you’re so cute. so special. you’re everything. holidays and birthdays were always foreign to him. he doesn’t care for them at all - or didn’t. he does now, he really fucking does. love does that to you. he’s so glad he took the risk, took a risk of dating you, found someone so angelic. so perfect for him. he can’t help but think about what his 12 year old self would think of this. if he would have even believed he would have someone so loving and compliant by his side ever in his life. believed that he was anything other than a worthless piece of shit.

all the years of pain and longing for a love which he believed could never be bestowed upon a man of his caricature paid off. all the time he (begrudgingly) yearned for love. for a partner. a princess to call his own. the lonely emperor who wanted nothing more than to be treated as if he was someone special and meant something. he’s so emotional, very rare for him. he’s so emotional seeing how much he means to you. how much you’re willing to do. and for the first time in his life, he feels joy on his birthday. “prinzessin, i love you” he leans down to whisper in your ear. and you giggle and kick your legs as much as you can beneath him like a giddy schoolgirl. “love you too micha, you deserve the world”

he doesn’t know how you do it, how you can act like this despite the way he treats you. he knows he’s a manipulative asshole, but he never took the time to care about anything other than himself and maybe you. but now he almost feels sorry. almost feels like his heart could open up into a black hole and swallow him up for doing this to someone so sweet. but he told you before, if you didn’t like this you could just leave (he’d never let that). you also told yourself something, you would fix this man. you’re an empath. a pure soul full of compassion. you’re as broken as he is. maybe that’s why you stayed, why you grew to like the toxicity, why you believed you could fix him. and it’s paying off.

you did get up eventually, to sit on the floor and open the gifts he got from yours truly. you’re in pink panties a pink bra and his jersey, currently getting frosting all over it from a slice of cake he cut for you. isn’t it funny, this jersey would go for thousands on the internet, so many fangirls would kill to be wearing this. and you’re messing it all up. his piece is sitting next to him as he holds a particularly sentimental gift from you in his hands and stares down at it. he doesn’t know how to react. he never did know how to react to gifts. but he wishes you knew how grateful he is for you. so grateful that you stay through all of this.

you do know, you really do.

hours later and his pure unbridled joy is yet to die down. you’re spoon feeding him cake as you’re both sat on the floor laughing. the pains that his birthday brought him are forgotten for now, as are the injuries he inflicted upon you. the holes in the wall he leaves when he’s angry are covered with decorations. the small specks of blood adorning the floor from a particularly nasty nosebleed you had caused by his fist are hidden by the wrapping paper from all of the thoughtful gifts you bought for him. his tattooed hand is on the floor ontop of your smaller one. the crown covering your own. his princess.

michael kaiser was born on christmas, he was a gift his parents neglected. weren’t grateful for. a gift to his parents that they didn’t even realise. a gift to the soccer world. a gift for you. special gift for you. the best gift you could ever receive. so you’ll treat him like that, despite the violence. you are so empathetic to him. so sweet. kaiser deserves the world he really does.

and as he watches you giggle as you feed him cake and eat spoonfuls for yourself too, he realises you’re a gift too. you’re not born on any particularly noticeable holiday the way he is. but your birthday is the biggest celebration in itself. he’s so thankful to whatever god decided to grace the world with your presence and then send you in his direction. his eyes are so soft for once and he wears a small smile. let’s forget about all of the violence and anger, all of the sadness, the shattered and messily glued back pieces of the little boy he truly is for once. let’s just have fun.

he tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear as he looks into your eyes so deeply. “you are the best gift i could ever ask for, mein schatz”

[itsswritten]

shadow violet

Pairing: Fairy x Azriel

Word Count: 2.2K

Summary: Some fluff between your favourite couple (pre bond snapping)

Wings Universe - More from this world.

Something had brought Azriel to the city that morning, an invisible string pulling on his heart that had himself and his shadows restless. So he found himself walking the hard cobblestone streets of Velaris under the rising sun, its rays shifting through the gaps on the townhouses. His shadows gracefully dancing between the tall dark silhouettes they created on the ground as Azriel walked through the heart of the city.

His hands stuffed into his trouser pockets, black shirt tousled and buttons undone at the top, in a casual way that was fitting for a Sunday and somewhat unusual for him.

Azriel had never been the casual type, not in style, not in persona, nor in actions. However in recent years Azriel had to learn how to adopt a more casual way of living, especially now peace had settled over the land. The highly acclaimed Spymaster and his services weren’t as in demand as they once were. Weekends became a time he could actually indulge in, however the notion quickly became monotonous and well…lonely. The lone Shadowsinger had no one to share this extra time with. 

Azriel would often pick up extra work, begging Rhys to give him some scouting or research mission so he didn’t have to spend another weekend alone. His family were busy now, had their own lives filled with littlings or mates to fuss over, and Azriel would never be the type to express discern. He couldn’t selfishly confess his feelings of isolation, trap his loved ones in guilt when all they were doing was pursuing exactly what the Mother had intended. 

So he carried his woes silently, like he always had.

Azriel was really looking forward to Solstice though. A time he knew he would get with all his family, and of course, you. He couldn’t deny to himself that he was especially looking forward to seeing you.

He hadn’t seen you in some time now, such a dutiful fairy always working hard that only in a few lucky moments, he had managed to catch you in passing. When you were dropping something off for Rhys, swapping a book with Nesta, or the rare night you were able to join him and Mor at Rita’s. He was missing you, and judging by his restless shadows they were missing your company too. It was like an itch that couldn’t be scratched. An addiction that would only be satiated by your presence.

Azriel knew what that meant. He had lived in this world for over 500 years now to understand the feelings that had grown for you, but despite his plethora of worldly experience, being honest about his growing infatuation that had so clearly turned into something more was too hard to confess.

Azriel strided towards the morning market, some stalls still setting up as he felt himself come to a stop. Something physical compelling his steps to halt in their tracks, drawing his attention to turn.

To look elsewhere. 

A pull tugging him towards something– you.

There you were. 

Wind blowing your hair gently in the soft morning breeze while you sat soundly on a bench by the Sidra. Your head rolling to the side, chest breathing deeply.

With quick strides Azriel followed his shadows, who were always quicker than him when it came to you. Flurrying closely around you, they vibrated inches away from your skin but without permission wouldn’t dare touch you in your sleeping state. 

Azriel crouched by your feet, gazing at your soft face, your lips slightly parted as you snoozed. You looked so angelic in the morning light, in any light in fact. In light, in darkness, you were always so beautiful. The effect you had on him, was like nothing he’d ever experienced in his life before.

He scrutinised over you, hands coming down to the bench either side as he was kneeled, his arms caging you in a protective but gentle manner.

Had you been overworking yourself? Azriel questioned, taking in your working garments covered in soil and a large basket by your side that seemed to be filled to the brim, a cotton cloth covering the top. 

He didn’t like the idea of you overworking yourself so much that you’d actually fallen asleep in the city. Despite Velaris being somewhat safe, the idea stirred a fear deep within his gut. You were always taking care of everyone, the meadows, creatures and people that lived on this land, that Azriel for the first time wondered who took care of you.

The notion had him reeling at a possibility that maybe it could be him. That he could be the one so lucky to take care of you. Making sure you got back from your night shifts safe, ensuring you had a nutritious meal at the end of a hard day’s work, indulging in morning lie-ins with you on his plentiful-empty weekends— he was getting carried away.

But the desire remained, he wanted to take care of you.

It was something he fantasised about often, a life with you. If he was ever brave enough to cross that blurred line of friendship you both always seemed to dance along.

Gently he reached up, moving the pieces of your hair that had fallen in front of your face with a soft whisper of your name. His fingers grazing the strands behind your ear, fingertips dusting across the skin of your cheek.

The feather-light touch stirred you, brows furrowing while a soft sleepy noise left your lips. Your eyes fluttered open with a frown.

“Azriel?” You slurred softly in a dreamy state. 

Azriel often appeared in your dreams. Dreams so addictive that at times lulling yourself from slumber for work felt arduous. 

Your fingers moved on their own accord, driven by that sleepy illusion that blurred boundaries. Your hand coming to cup his face, thumb grazing the peak of his cheekbone while your eyes adjusted through their haze. Azriel felt his own lids shut for a moment, indulging in the rare touch you offered him. An intimate gesture that wasn’t always common in your friendship, although over the past couple years, there had been a few soft grazes and touches. Fleeting and secretive, moments that you both locked away for none else to see.

Moments Azriel hoped meant just as much to you as they did to him.

Azriel watched as your lids blinked heavily, the drowsy lull evident in the way your lip rolled into your mouth. Lashes fluttering as you looked down at him in a way he often dreamt about.

He could have stayed in that moment, savoured it for longer. Though, it was the innocence in your touch that stopped him indulging. Reluctantly lifting his hands to yours, his scarred fingers softly wrapping around your wrist that was now caressing his cheek.

In a fleeting moment he pressed the corner of his lips to leave a small kiss on the palm of your hand before pulling it fully away.

“You fell asleep by the river y/n,” he said softly, concern lacing his tone.

“Oh,” you replied confused, a hard frown pressing over your brows as you seemed to adjust to reality. “Oh…my…” you suddenly realised, his words finally waking you as your eyes widened.

“I was…I was waiting for the market to open,” you told him, a rosy flush spreading on your cheeks as Azriel’s soft intimate touch seemed to burn your palm. 

You could still feel the kiss he left on your skin.

For a moment of composure, you quickly glanced over your shoulder, the morning market now bustling as the noise of shopkeepers and sellers drifted down the Sidra.

“Oh stars, I must have fallen asleep while I was waiting,” you huffed with a smile, turning back to look at the beautiful male who was still kneeled by your feet. “I’ve been on the night shift in the meadows.”

“I know,” Azriel replied, his lips pulling a smile in return.

Of course he knew. He always knew everything you were doing. He hadn’t seen you in what felt so long because of your damned shift pattern and he’d been missing you terribly. 

He always missed you, he realised. Maybe it was you he had been missing his whole life.

Azriel had known you for almost two years, a presence that had completely consumed him that the mere thought of you not being in it was enough to make him shiver. Thoughts like these were enough to convince him to confess, but it was the risk of rejection. The risk of ruining the special friendship you had built that trapped him.

Your usual happy tone rang through his thoughts, your sleepiness clearly gone and an excitement spreading across your face. “Actually it’s a good thing you found me...”

Azriel quirked his brow in question.

“I’ve got something for you,” you beamed.

“For me?” His voice cracked.

You nodded sweetly, tapping the space beside you before guiding him from the cobblestones to the bench.

“Now you mustn’t tell anyone about this Azriel,” you warned him with a small bite of your lip, your finger pointing at him.

“I won’t, I swear it” he replied. He’d do anything you asked he realised then, take secrets to the grave, kneel by your feet— anything. 

“Okay,” you had grabbed something from your basket, silk fabric folded on your hand concealing something.

“Have you ever heard of a Shadow Violet Azriel?”

Azriel shook his head, his eyes watching the way your lips formed his name. How your tongue sang the syllables in the sweetest way. He’d never considered his name beautiful, but coming from your lips it sounded heavenly. 

Actually anything you spoke sounded that way.

“It’s a flower that blooms once every millennium, if that” you continued, your tone shifting to one Azriel recognised. A tone he had quickly become enamoured with whenever you went off on a spiel about nature, or meadows, or animals.

“It’s only small, one might miss it if you don’t know where to look.” You shifted closer to the Shadowsinger, eyes glancing up as you continued. “It’s a flower that blooms in the shadows. Flourishes and grows to become its own source of light even in the darkest crevices of the forest.”

Azriel listened intently.

“It’s so magical and marvellous Azriel, and last night...” you leaned in closer, your words coming to a hush.

Azriel’s heart skipped a beat.

“I found one.”

Azriel watched as you carefully unfolded the soft fabric to reveal a beautiful flower. It’s petals an iridescent sapphire that glowed in the morning  light. A glow, that Azriel felt resembled something of you. A radiance that he could only compare to the female sat next to him.

And even though he made that comparison himself, found it so easy to make the connection between a flower and someone he found beautiful, what left your lips next struck deep within his chest.

“And when I saw it Azriel, I thought of you. A flower blooming in the shadows…a source of light, even in the darkest corners. Even in the most crowdest rooms, with the dimmest faelights I always find you, your light always reaches me…” your words drifted off, the sentence had just rolled off your tongue like honey before you noticed how under every letter there was some kind of unspoken confession.

Azriel felt his breathing falter for a moment, your eyes connecting with his as the silence between you seemed to speak of so much. You looked so vulnerable to him in that moment, that had him thinking of the first moment he met you. That night in Rita’s when you’d gotten all flustered after meeting all of them.

Azriel breathed your name. 

With haste you stood, folding the silk over the flower and pushing it into Azriel’s hands. A vibration hazing over his skin at the touch. 

“Anyway, I wanted you to have it.” Space was put between you both quickly, and Azriel watched as you seemed to brush the moment off with humour, “Just don’t let the fairy council know you have it, they’ll be really annoyed with me that I haven’t taken it to the archives.”

Azriel blinked.

You grabbed your basket “I must go, I need to exchange some bits at the market before getting some sleep.”

Azriel stood in a flurry then, watching as you began to walk away. Calling out your name, you stopped, glancing over your shoulder to look at him.

“You’re joining us for Solstice right?”

Your smile stretched to your eyes, cheeks rosy as your head bobbed a quick nod “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“I’ll see you then,” Azriel smiled.

You smiled back, your hand stretching a soft wave before you hurried up the market. 

Azriel watched till he could know longer see you, his shadows whispering about the stall you had headed to.

He looked down then, taking another look at the flower wrapped in silk between his hands. A symbolic version of him, a version of him you had seen. Something no one else had ever compared him to.

No one had considered him equal to something so beautiful. It was that moment he decided.

At Solstice he would confess his love for you.

a/n: Oh hey strangers...sorry I've been so mia! I guess this is what having a big girl job is actually like :( I miss writing so so much, and miss these characters and worlds. I just sadly don't have the mental capacity to write as much as I did. That being said, if you're still lingering around I hope you enjoy this little installment. Please ignore any grammar mistakes, like I said I haven't been able to write in a while and I can really tell, so this is not my best work. But I thought posting was better than nothing! <3

Forever tags: @sleepylunarwolf @daily-dose-of-sass @amberlynn98 @marscardigan @illyrianbitch @lilah-asteria

Wings tags: @minaethrym

[punkpandapatrixk]

❣️How Abnormal Are You in Love? ♦︎ Timeless Pick A Card

Don’t be too hard on yourself with this PAC. Everybody in this world’s pretty much abnormal anyway. We all want something that’s extremely rare in this world: Love. Sometimes, we go crazy after mistaking shit for Love. But we all heal. Eventually, we all learn to love more healthily and sanely. And really, that’s all that matters. The crazy is also part of the character development~♥︎

☆♪°・.

‘Hey, actually, when was it that I began to realise that there’s no such thing as forever? Even so, I’m prouder than anybody else about the fact that the days we spent together were at least not a lie.

Even though it’s true that the length of time we have lived is only slightly different, just the fact that we met, that we loved, though we may never love each other again… I won’t forget.

Hey, why do I still want you by my side, thinking that I won’t do without you, even though this is hurting me so much? Even so, I became a person who could be grateful for the smallest things in life. It’s because, even the most casual of words were so meaningful between us.

Because we met, because we loved, though we may never love each other again…I’ll be fine with turning all of it into proof that I’ll survive, whilst facing all of truth and reality.

I’m just glad that we met. I’m just glad that we loved. Though we may never see each other again… I won’t forget.’

☆♪°・.

Those are words from Ayumi Hamasaki’s legendary song, LOVE ~Destiny~. At some point in Life, Ayumi said in an interview, ‘I loved one man so much that I destroyed myself.’ I can’t help but think this song could be about…it? Maybe hahah Just a vibe, gals~♡

SONG: LOVE ~Destiny~ by Hamasaki Ayumi

MOVIE: Snakes and Earrings (2008)

[PAC Masterlist] [Part 1] [Part 3]

[Patreon] [Paid Readings]

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 1 – What I Can’t Let Go Of, Really, Is My Pride…

VIBE: kiss by Chara

what is, Love? – 4 of Swords

Well, it seems quite obvious your past was somewhat chaotic. I think throughout childhood you felt like you were crossing a battlefield or had to fight the stormy seas all by yourself. Because of this, you deeply crave a Love that can put an end to all of those noises. In fact, it’s only fitting. Deep down you’ve always known that Love is something that’s pure, sweet and gentle; that it’s supposed to put you at ease. You understand that the world is in chaos because nobody has Love in their hearts.

You, never wanted to be like those grownups who were fighting with their own spouses. Even if you’re young, you feel like an Old Soul—the only one who seems to truly understand what Love is and is not. And you see that 99% of people literally don’t know what Love is, let alone how to love right. And you’re afraid. What if you can’t find that one person who can love you right?

Deep in your subconscious, you have these standards and ideals you desperately want to maintain. But nobody you’ve ever met seems to understand where you’re coming from. What you want is something so pure. People are rarely pure of heart, so nobody gets it. And it feels incredibly lonely. And at some point, you might’ve begun to doubt if your standards are even fair…

why do you chase, Love? – King of Wands Rx

So you grew up a bit and began to wonder what might happen if you lower your standards…a bit? You want to experience passion, right? You’re seeing all these peers around you kissing and holding each other and you crave that, too. You know very well it’s not like they’re in love—they’re just silly, infatuated, hormonal fuckers; but you wonder how it would feel to be intimate with someone. To actually have someone want you like that. To be wanted. To be held. To be kissed. To be…loved. No matter how shallowly.

Now you’re willing to look for someone passionate. You could try with a puzzling character. You like that kinda shit. Any kind of an intriguing fucker with some semblance of a mystery; making you curious to dive deep into their side of crazy. How do I figure out your particular brand of bullshit? Anybody you can’t immediately figure out would excite you to a point of insanity. And you thought this was happiness. You thought, this level of excitement surely must be happiness. Perhaps…even Love? Otherwise…

How do you explain this feeling that suddenly strikes, rattling your heartstrings, making you realise that there’s somebody in this world you’d want to care for other than yourself? Just the idea that you even fantasise about growing older with this mysterious fucker… How is this not, Love? And if this isn’t Love…what is? How else are people supposed to know happiness if this excitement alone isn’t enough?

what happens when Love, dies? – 8 of Cups Rx

To begin with, you’re not one to trust easily. It takes a lot for you to allow someone to see your vulnerable side. And when you go in, you go all in. It may not feel like it immediately because you’re cautious, but once you’re in…because you feel sure of someone…you’re in deep. Too deep it feels like you’re drowning in this whole situation, if anything. And you’re proud of how much you’re able to give.

And…you’re generally proud of your boundaries and the standards and ideals you’ve imposed upon yourself and others. So, the fact that you’ve given so much, revealed so much to someone who wouldn’t be there for life, is beyond frustrating. It’s world-shattering, at least. What have I been in this situationship/relationship for if it ain’t gonna last?!?! I can’t just let it die like that! Maybe I’m doing something wrong?! I must’ve! Lest none of this would’ve happened…

When Love dies, it feels so shameful. It’s a shame you trusted the wrong fucker. It’s a shame someone was able to see you that vulnerable. It’s disgusting that you thought this was The One. What was I thinking? Now everything becomes clear. It’s not the loss of that person’s Love you’re crying about. If you’re being honest now, you couldn’t care less that such a loser’s gone from your world. If anything, it’s such a relief. It was just the shock from knowing you made a mistake that made you cry… It’s OK now.

MY HEART, MY PRIDE🔻💜

sacrifices I’d made – Green Magus (John Magus)

I’m glad I was able to love – Priestess of Ambition

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Pile 2 – I Can’t Tell If I’m Passionate or Just Immature

VIBE: Boys & Girls by Hamasaki Ayumi

what is, Love? – Ace of Pentacles Rx

To begin with, you’re not exactly a rational person. Not saying you’re dumb! You just have a lot of passion for something that’s unexpected or foreign. You like mysteries and you aren’t afraid to dip your toe in uncharted waters. This desire could’ve developed from having a childhood that felt constricted tho. I think you grew up surrounded by so many rules and laws and forbidden things and that’s how you developed a taste for, DANGER~

It’s exciting, from time to time, to think about throwing all your caution to the wind and breaking all rules. You want to disappoint. If you’re being honest, you’re damn tired of following everybody’s whims and concerning yourself with their expectations. What about what I want?? You want to live. You want to feel alive. There are so many exciting things outside of your everyday Life, why can’t you have any of that? At some point, you could’ve dreamt of being rescued from your Tower by a handsome daredevil of any kind of a fucker.

If that fucker happens to be handsome and rich, even better. But that doesn’t really matter. You just want someone brave enough to approach you and actually uproot you from your boring Life. Surely, Love can do that to a person…? I don’t need stability, let alone predictability; what I want is a romantic hero who’ll take me on a grand adventure of Love! And if that daredevil happens to be dumb…

why do you chase, Love? – 9 of Swords

In many ways, you’re totally not an innocent person. You want to hurt. If whoever daredevil tries to fulfil your fantasies of being rescued from your miserable Tower happens to be dumb, you’re gonna be having a field trip! XD You want to terrorise and traumatise a person, really. It’s vengeance for all the years that you were serving others. Now, it’s your time to be served. It doesn’t even matter if they don’t worship you. You’re ready to find another dumbfuck to toy with. You’re hardly ever sincere anyway~

Why bother with sincerity? Ever since you were a kid, you’ve observed that none of the adults you knew was ever sincere. What even is Love? I think you know of it conceptually. But what exactly is its purpose? What exactly is so good about it? And how? How exactly must one be in order to attain it? You don’t believe in it some days. You deeply crave it some days. You could die for it some days. You want others to die for your Love most days.

Life is confusing. Love is confusing. Sex is easy. Money is easy. Food and jewelleries are easy. Let’s live easily. Life is exhausting if you think too much about everything that could go wrong. I’m done feeling terrible about my own existence, so I want someone to spin me around and make me forget. That’s ideal. Is generally your motto when chasing… Love♡

what happens when Love, dies? – 8 of Wands Rx

You don’t care about it. You don’t particularly care about losing people. It’s expected. If anything, because you’re never serious with quite anybody anyway, ghosting is the best way to go about it. You’re the type to ghost, block, and you don’t even mind if you’re the one ghosted or blocked. Basically, you just don’t want any contact with someone you’ve lost interest in anyway. So that only makes it easier for you.

In many ways, I think you sometimes regret being this kind of a callous person. There are days you wonder if you’ll become someone more sincere. You’ve wondered what it would take to actually love someone. To actually be loved back. Surely that must be so nice. You want to be happy, honestly. But it feels like a distant daydream. You don’t particularly understand how two people can be happy living together. After all, you find people exhausting most of the time.

All you know is that you’ve lived with yourself for the longest time. And if you have to compromise or sacrifice anything…you’re not willing. You’ve sacrificed shit before, a looong time ago, and you got nothing back in return. You gave someone a rose and they gave you back thorns and strangled you with it. Surely that can’t be happiness. Two people who don’t know how to love can’t be happy together. Life is better lived alone.

MY HEART, MY PRIDE🔻❤️

sacrifices I’d made – Red Alchemist (John Dee)

I’m glad I was able to love – Priestess of Innocence

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Pile 3 – Damn, Why’s Everybody Crying for Love?

VIBE: Sunglasses by Utada Hikaru

what is, Love? – 2 of Cups Rx

Uhm…you’re a comical Pile for sure. Your psychology is so complex, although it’s also super straightforward (to you), but some people are not gonna have an easy time figuring out if you’re sincere or not. Most of us have got a lot of exposure to tragical romance, right? A lot of people get deep and insane in Love. And here you are wondering why everybody’s crying for Love. Why is everybody suffering in the name of Love? That’s not Love. People are silly for falling continuously for the wrong people. It’s all a Game for them. Me? I don’t play games.

But you do! Everybody does when it comes to falling in Love, to various extents. That’s what’s really fun about falling in Love. If you could face yourself, you’d realise you have a bit of a God-complex within this context. In the sense that…because Love and romance actually aren’t such a big deal to you, and somehow, you have an almost all-too-natural inclination to attract the right people, you can’t really empathise with those who cry in the name of Love.

For some though, if the above doesn’t really resonate, you’re the type that has an innate understanding that you must protect yourself from falling into those tragical romantic setups. You have a highly developed sense of boundary and you keep high standards for what kind of a romantic relationship you want. You’re kinda similar to Pile 1 in this case, but you most likely haven’t experienced sacrificing your standards for, EXPERIENCE~

why do you chase, Love? – 10 of Wands

In comparison to certain types of people in the world, you’re not exactly a dreamy type. When it comes to relationships you think straight towards building a matrimony with someone. You’re a traditionalist in a sense. You’re the based kid who knows that a girlfriend-boyfriend relationship is a training ground for a marriage. You think long-term. You’re realistic like that. But the problem is…you’re totally missing out on the passion of Love itself.

You don’t really see your partner(s) for the person—the Human—that they are. You care only for the practical, pragmatic facts surrounding their reputation or status or whether or not their physical appearance is decent enough. Stuff like that. And the dreamy ones who look at you, look at you with a pang of sadness in their chest, for although you seem responsible and blessed…you appear to them as someone who looks at another with an eye of business.

You’re the type that thinks love is an investment. An investment of attention, affection, time and money, and all that shit. That’s not Love; that’s something to be exchanged at the market. The dating market, OMG~

‘Freedom and love go together. Love is not a reaction. If I love you because you love me, that is mere trade, a thing to be bought in the market; it is not love. To love is not to ask anything in return, not even to feel that you are giving something—and it is only such love that can know freedom.’ – Jiddu Krishnamurti

what happens when Love, dies? – 6 of Pentacles

When Love dies, you celebrate. You’re wise enough to know that Life doesn’t end just because you broke up with somebody, even in terms of friendship. You’re spiritually mature enough to know you’ve learnt from the experience, and now, you’re just going to prepare for the next big thing to experience. Life goes on without a hitch like that for you, for the most part. I can’t tell if you’re really that spiritually mature or you just don’t give a fuck about emotions LMAO

Not saying you’re a bad person, btw. It just seems like you haven’t got a lot of crazy in your birth chart or that you haven’t experienced a lot of sorrows and soul-shattering heartbreaks, so…it’s kinda just a matter of not having, PERSPECTIVE? Coupled with the fact that you take Life very unseriously seriously…? Like, you’re serious about not being an asshole and wanting to do the socially right thing, but in doing so, you become an annoying insincere jackass in the lives of those who have (or will) dated you XDD

Basically, you’re not the type to get super crazy heartbroken when a relationship ends. You’ve got all of these other blessings anyway. Why would you focus on just the negative, right? In a sense, I believe that’s an incredible spiritual maturity which others are still struggling to figure out XD But yeah…rather than this being something abnormal about you, I think it’s just that your Higher Self designed for you not to experience the dramatic highs and lows of immature romance HAHAH

MY HEART, MY PRIDE🔻🧡

sacrifices I’d made – Gold Alchemist (Roger Bacon)

I’m glad I was able to love – Priestess of Luck

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[PAC Masterlist] [Part 1] [Part 3]

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[weemsfreak]

The Only One

Hi ya'll, happy pride month!!

Sorry for being mia, I have been quite busy with school and also working on this (slowly) all of June. I was unsure of the vibes I wanted this story to give, as I have been feeling confused(?) as of late, and for some reason June has brought many feelings and a couple crap experiences that I wanted to incorporate into here. I did make the story hopeful toward the end, but I just wanted to say that if anyone feels this way, you are not alone!

Calling our Lesbian Headmistress to help make the confusing and lonely times a bit better with a pride event. I know not everybody likes to celebrate pride in this way, but I thought it was cute.

Larissa Weems x studentreader (platonic) ~4.6k words

Part of my 'All the Time' series, based on reader being a lesbian but struggles with her sexuality and falls for her straight friend (canon experience ;))

Warnings: partially closeted, mention of family not understanding, self reflection (internalized homophobia/being proud)

༻༺

Nobody ever talks about how lonely it is, being queer in a small town.

The lack of representation, of places to go, and people to meet. The sliver of hope that you will feel safe if you decide to venture, if you decide to try.

Her with him and him with her and 'girl crush' this and 'man crush' that.

But all in all, you thought that perhaps the worst of it all was the feeling of being the only one.

You listen to songs that describe other places, places you wish your mother would tell you to go.

You know she wants you to stay, but you can't ignore the crazy visions of you in…well, somewhere that perhaps doesn't exist- or maybe it does.

Somewhere a different version of yourself could live; hopeful, happy, proud.

Your favorite movie, which makes you feel accepted, alive, is less than ten years old, even though you're a fan of old classic Hollywood.

You don't see yourself in them.

Many times before, you've heard people say 'it would be so much easier to be gay.'

They must've been joking, of course; but being gay was not a joke.

They joke about being gay but they've never wondered if their family would still love them.

They joke about being gay but they've never been scared of their friends abandoning them and talking behind their back.

They joke about being gay but they've never rejected a man with the reason of being interested in women, just for the man to ask if it's the truth, 'they could turn you', so they say.

They joke about being gay but they've never been the quiet one when others talked about boys.

They joke about being gay but they've never felt like they were disrespecting women because they found them attractive.

They joke about being gay but they've never been the outcast.

They joke about being gay but they've never worried about their loved ones not attending their wedding.

They joke about being gay but they've never pretended to like men to try and fit in with their peers.

They joke about being gay but they've never had nobody to talk to.

They joke about being gay but they've never had nobody to cry to.

They joke about being gay but they've never wished they were a boy, for the sole reason of a woman liking them back.

They joke about being gay but they've never had to love somebody in secret.

They joke about being gay but they'll never know what it feels like.

As bad as you felt, through the loneliness, the grief, the 'what ifs' and the doubt, it wasn't the fact of being queer that scared you, it wasn't that you weren't open, or accepting.

What did hurt though, was what came with it.

The fear of never finding someone, the fear of being rejected and harmed in public, the fear of never understanding how you really felt; the fear of feeling too deeply.

There have been times where you almost, almost, decided to leave it be.

'In another life' you said, shrugging your shoulders as a tear dripped down your cheek at the thought of faking it, and marrying a man.

But one day, you were reading a book dated from the 60s, when the realization hit you.

Years ago, regrettably not that many, you would not have the choice, you would not have the freedom.

And here you were, in the age of progression, hiding away in the land of heterosexuals.

You had a choice, you had freedom.

For the woman before you who were stuck in sham marriages, cried themselves to sleep, snuck around with another woman and feared for their life, for the women who raised children but not with whom they loved, for the women who had no such thing as freedom of choice.

You would not fake it, you would not hide, you would be your true self for them, and for you, regardless of the very possible fact that you could be the only queer in this small town.

༻༺

The headmistress stood outside of the chemistry classroom one gloomy morning, greeting students as they entered as your teacher always did.

You sauntered through the halls as you watched your peers and their modernistic and typical ways.

You weren't sure who's twisted idea it was, to put hundreds of adolescents in underfunded schools run by people whose dreams were crushed years ago…but you admired the sadism.

Opening your locker and retrieving your books, your sketchbook met the floor with an echo when a guy accidentally bumped into you.

"Oh crap, sorry Y/N"

You gave him a menacing look, before taking a breath and straightening yourself out.

"No worries."

His friend, who had shoved him into you, continued on to class as he spoke from down the hall. "C'mon man, leave the freak alone."

You expected him to continue on as well, but he didn't.

"How are things going?"

You'd likely be late for class if he kept the conversation up.

"A lot of this" you shrugged, pointing to your books.

"Yea, me too. The harvest festival is coming up though, I know you love the fall, and all things creepy."

You huffed in amusement, nodding your head.

"It’s nice to have things to look forward to."

He smiled and nodded, looking to his feet.

"Well, I'll see you there. Maybe I'll message you?"

You shook your head uninterested, not holding him to it.

"Sure."

Bending down to pick your sketchbook up off the floor, it was open to a doodle you had done which was rather, well, not appropriate for school.

Slamming your sketchbook shut, you stood and met your locker mirror; your own reflection, as well as the principals, smiling back at you.

Jump scare.

"Good morning, darling."

You spun around in surprise, staring wide eyed.

"Principal Weems, good morning."

She nodded as she looked at you in amusement, hoping to hide her true thoughts about your morning interactions.

"Where is Ms. Currie?"

The principal tilted her head at you, "Out today. I was notified last minute, so I'm your substitute."

Well, it was your lucky day.

The principal never failed to notice your…disinterest.

She didn't fail to notice the way some students picked on you, nor your lack of emotion; your presence of indifference towards men.

She saw herself in you, you were just like her.

That thought brought her both joy and pain.

༻༺

Sitting in the quad, you nervously twisted your fingers as you watched your friend approach.

You had heard, apparently, that it was a 'cannon lesbian experience' to have a crush on your friend.

Man were they right, and man, did it hurt.

She sat with a smile, though you could see that her attention was diverted.

"Hi."

"Hey Mar."

You swallowed, looking her in the eye across the table.

"I um, I was thinking, the Rave 'N is soon, maybe we could go together…"

Just then, you watched Gannon make his way to the table and sit beside your friend.

She squealed lightly, pulling him closer to her.

"Y/N, did I tell you Gannon and I are going to the Rave 'N together?!"

Your heart dropped, but it wasn't anything new, it wasn't at all surprising.

For you knew your friend liked men, but you had thought that maybe, well, you didn’t know; maybe there was hope that someone could be like you.

"Oh, uh, congratulations."

Your heart panged as they looked into each others eyes, smiling in anticipation.

"So, what were you talking about?"

You shook your head and let out a weak chuckle, quickly thinking of an excuse.

"I um, I was thinking maybe we could get ready for the Rave'N together, that could be fun."

Marcella smiled as she stood, linking her arm with Gannon's.

"Sure! I'll see you later!"

The principal, who supervised lunch in the quad, watched your rejection with disappointment and regret.

It dug deep, it brought back memories of her own time at Nevermore; the hate and the heartbreak that she felt, that you felt.

Sometimes, things never changed.

'I don't know if I believe the way I feel is real

And I often wonder if it is

Watching your friend dance with a guy

And pondering whether it's what she truly wishes

Should you step in, or leave her be?

You know you wouldn’t wish it, but does she?

It hurts a bit, a little, a lot; watching her dance so close to him

And maybe she'd dance with you like that too

But not in this life, no, not now,

For she's dancing with him, and you watch from the crowd'

༻༺

You knew it wasn’t the fault of your own; the despair, the regret, the loneliness.

But, you couldn't help but feel it when you were alone, so utterly alone, regardless of the fact that you could be surrounded by people.

They'd never understand the feeling of being so outcast, ironically, the feeling of being so different. The feeling of being told that how you felt was somehow wrong.

You felt it, you felt it wholeheartedly; and how could your heart be wrong?

Your parents, who never meant any harm, contradicted themselves.

Honestly, you couldn't exactly say how, but it hurt in a way that you didn't understand.

You thought maybe they were smarter, more knowledgeable, perhaps wiser than you.

They had always said that you could talk to them, but it was useless, as any attempt made you feel worse, not better.

They had been on this earth for sometime, however, surely they must've experienced the hate, and transformed themselves to some degree?

Wishful thinking.

They could never be so open.

And you think, maybe that's what hurt the most; wishing they could understand, wishing they would care enough to understand.

Alas, wishing was useless.

There were nights where you prayed for an older, wiser being to cry to. Someone who could tell you what to do and how to feel, someone who would listen, someone who would care.

Someone who would see you. Someone who understood, because they felt it themself.

༻༺

You made every attempt to be true to yourself.

To not lie, to let yourself feel what you felt, to get out more; to live.

It was hard to be true to yourself, though, when your friends agreed to accompany you to a pride day in Jericho, and then ditched you.

You resented them, you envied them, they didn't know what it felt like; they never would.

The hurt multiplied ten fold when June came around. The hiding, the thinking, the loneliness, it didn't settle, it didn't stop.

After an hour of scrubbing off your makeup, crying face down into your bed, and ditching your  themed outfit, you arrived in Jericho, the opening ceremony finished.

The town square was very festive, multiple restaurants and shops agreed to host a scavenger hunt, crafted special meals to celebrate, provide smaller fun activities, and fireworks. You were proud of the small town of Jericho, they were trying; as were you.

And although they were trying, these activities were not really fun to do, well…alone.

Alas, that's what you were. Alone.

Passing by the Weathervane, you saw a small group of Nevermore students on their way out. You wanted to join in, but you didn’t know them, not that well.

Peering over at the counter, you found a drink special for the day;

'buy any regular sized drink, get rainbow whipped cream for free.'

You snorted, it was rather cheesy, but cute.

Stepping up to the counter, you ordered an iced coffee.

"Would you like rainbow whipped cream on that?"

You sighed, about to shake your head no when you heard a voice at the other end of the counter.

"Thank you, dear. This looks delicious."

She was standing tall with a red lipped smile, peering down at her hot chocolate; rainbow whipped cream on top.

You had to agree, it did look delicious.

"Yes, uh, whipped cream please."

As soon as your drink was made, you beelined it for the door, hoping she wouldn't see you.

It wasn't that you didn’t want to see her, it wasn't that you didn’t want to talk.

It was that you didn’t want her to see you- alone.

Unsure of where to go next, you stood on the sidewalk and tried your drink; delicious.

The doorbell rang and she stepped out, gazing around the streets.

In a flash, you turned and headed down the sidewalk, away from the activities, away from her.

"Y/N?"

You stopped, slowly turning as if you were unsure of where the voice had come from.

A wave, a smile, and she was next to you in a few strides.

"Darling, you're going the wrong way, the festival is this way!"

She never failed to make you happy, her and her rainbow hot chocolate.

You shrugged, "I uh, I don't really want to participate."

Her head tiled in question as she caught sight of your drink.

"You're not interested in celebrating pride?"

Well, that just made you sound homophobic. You shook your head quickly.

"No, no I am. I just, my friends were supposed to come with me but, they changed their minds I guess."

The principal looked down at you, your head hung in sadness, perhaps shame.

Today was not a day to be sad, it was not a day to be shameful, it was a day to be proud, to celebrate.

"Well, I am here with a few Nevermore students. I am proud to support them, no matter who or what they are."

You couldn't help but smile crookedly in awe, meeting her appreciative blue gaze. She bent down closer to you, softening her voice. "That includes you, love."

Your heart beat fast as you stared in surprise, tears threatened to spill as you felt accepted and cared for, for the first time in a long time.

Taking a sip of your drink with a shaky hand, you fiddled with your jewellery.

The woman saw you thinking, contemplating.

She felt the exact same at your age. Knowing who you were, to an extent, but pushing the feeling away with every chance you got.

You didn’t want to, she knew, you wanted to be proud, she knew, but it was hard when you felt like the only one, the only one in this small town.

"How about we try the scavenger hunt, hmm?"

You looked up at her with a frown, but inside you felt joyful.

"We're probably already behind" you chuckled.

The woman waved a hand in dismissal, "Nonsense. We have a good chance if we work together."

༻༺

1.

You made your way back into the Weathervane, retrieving the first clue to the hunt.

'If the first pride flag was designed in Jericho, it would've been designed here.'

You passed the first clue to her, knowing the first pride flag was designed in 1978. If it had have been designed in Jericho, well, you had three options.

The woman smiled, gasping lightly as she recalled "'Sew it forward', it was established here in the 1960s."

༻༺

2.

You followed the intriguing woman to 'Sew it forward', watching as she retrieved the second clue and stamped the pride book red.

She took the clue between her fingers, narrowing her eyes at the small writing.

'This famous bar in New York City was the site of the 1969 riots, a pivotal event in LGBTQ+ history. Find the Jericho bar that starts with the same letter.'

You racked your brain around the bars in Jericho. You have never been to the bars besides for lunch.

"Stones!"

The principal raised a brow at you, a small smirk on her face.

"What?! Just because I'm not of age doesn’t mean I haven't been. Stones has good pizza."

A loud laugh was heard throughout the fabric shop. You were overjoyed that you could make her laugh freely, albeit most likely sounding stupid.

She headed for the door; and you would follow her anywhere.

༻༺

3.

Arriving at Stones, you found those also attempting the hunt, and those drowning in drinks.

You stamped the book with the second stamp, orange, and retrieved the third clue.

'Locate a pin or item that displays personal pronouns or sexual orientation, both important ways to respect people's identities.'

Leading the way out into the street, you looked around.

You didn’t remember seeing a shop with a prominent pin or badge.

"A pin or badge."

You looked up at the tall woman, her eyebrows furrowed in question.

Raking your eyes over her form, you found a brooch on her jacket, one you knew she wore often.

Lips.

"Where did you get that brooch?"

She peered down at her brooch, straightening it out as a light blush overtook her cheeks.

"Oh, my brooch. I got it at the antique shop, Uriah's Heap."

Uriah's Heap, a shop so very, well, out of the ordinary.

It was your favorite.

You stared at her for a moment hoping she would catch on, until her eyes widened in excitement.

"Let's go!" she smiled, grabbing your hand as she drug you to the shop.

༻༺

4.

You stood outside of Uriah's Heap, finding a large progressive pride flag pin on their window.

You knew this was a scavenger hunt, a race of some sort, but you always loved searching for hidden treasures in the shop that many people didn’t appreciate.

Following the principal, she found her way to the antique jewelry.

Choosing a vintage locket, you placed it on the counter and found a basket of pins staring back at you.

"Hello, did you find something of interest?"

The woman, who you remembered enjoyed chaga tea after working here on outreach day, peered down at you.

"Yes, may I purchase this?"

Peering over at the tall woman, she held a brooch up to you.

"Do you think this is nice, darling?"

A brooch which you thought resembled an eye. Very fitting for the principal and her unique look.

"It's beautiful, it matches your bracelet."

She smiled gratefully down at you, placing it on the counter.

"You are very perceptive" she remarked.

The lady rang up both items, the principal speaking up.

"Oh, I'll purchase that separate."

You shook your head at her with a sly smile, "I got it Principal Weems."

After purchasing your items, the principal retrieved the fourth clue and stamped the book yellow.

'What LGBTQ+ novel, written by Sheridan Le Fanu, preceded Dracula?'

You had read this book recently, an easy clue, really.

"Carmilla"

The woman looked down at you in surprise, nodding her head.

"Great novel, absolutely the best. I'm proud" she winked.

You smiled, gaze landing on the floor bashfully before peering back over at the pins in the basket.

The woman noticed and sorted through them. "Hmm, so many options. Would you like one?"

You watched as she held them in her hands to you, every option they had available.

There were so many colors, so many flags and pronouns.

You hummed and hawed over them, knowing which you wanted to chose, but still unsure.

"Well, I think I like this one."

The principal chose one; red, orange, white and pink stripes staring back at you.

Your mouth opened in shock as you watched her pin it to her jacket.

She smiled mischievously, "What's the matter, darling?"

The lesbian flag, something you didn't see often included in pride merchandise.

"I, uh, are you…" you stuttered.

The woman chuckled, straightening out the pin. "A lesbian?"

You nodded speechless as you stared up at her, thrill running through your veins.

She clasped her hands together and gave one nod, a bright smile as she batted her eyelashes your way.

Her support, her happiness, the confidence that she had, it made you want to cry.

You were so, so happy for her, you were so very proud.

Proud of her for her openness, proud of her for her representation, proud of her for being her true self, and for showing others that it was okay to be gay.

Grateful for her bravery, to show others that they were not alone.

You took a deep breath, "Can I have the same one?"

She dug through the pins, finding the very same flag and holding it out to you, "May I?"

You nodded, presenting your jacket to her.

She pinned in on, running a hand soothingly over your arm.

"I'm so very proud of you, darling."

You breathed in heavily, taking in her sincere and caring smile before meeting her gaze.

"I'm proud of you too, Principal Weems. And I'm so happy for you, thank you."

It was all the principal had wished for on this day, to help at least one person through their journey. To help you present yourself, to help you feel like you deserved to be seen, to help you feel proud.

"Of course, love. Now, where can we find the novel 'Carmilla'?"

Well, the library or bookstore, of course. But, you took a bet that Carmilla may not be at the library, so you headed to the bookstore.

༻

5. Crow bookshop

You retrieved the second last clue, stamping the book green.

'Locate the basket prepared for a festive outdoor meal, filled with colorful snacks and drinks. Perfect for a celebration under the open sky.'

The principal looked down at you in contemplation.  "The Basket, like the restaurant?"

You shrugged your shoulders, unsure of where else they would be referring to.

༻༺

6.

You arrived at 'The Basket', a restaurant just before the beach.

There were a few specials, a fruit basket, a flight of ciders, and a flight of sliders.

You knew the principal was a fan of burgers.

"Are you hungry?"

The tall woman looked down at you, smiling as she read over the special.

"Chipotle, Bacon and cheese, Veggie, Bean, Texas, and Chicken sliders. Would you like to share?"

You looked over the menu, rereading what she had just rhymed off.

Nodding, you asked, "What's a flight?"

She chuckled, ordering the special for you both.

"You're about to find out."

Sitting at a table on the back patio, you settled down across from the principal.

A moment silence, you looked her up and down, questioning many things.

An older, wiser being. A beautiful one who appeared to be pretty open, who seemed like she'd understand, who seemed like she cared.

"How did you know that you liked women and not men?"

The woman raised her gaze to you, lips stretching into a sad smile.

She took a deep breath and smoothed a napkin over her lap.

"Well, when I was your age, this small town was all that I knew, just like you.

I knew that I didn't feel the same as my peers, I never cared to talk about boys, I never really fit in in the way that I hoped to.

One day I realized that I wouldn't at all mind kissing my friend, in fact I longed to" she chuckled. "Representation was lacking, but what little of it there was, it helped me realize how I felt as I grew. It's hard to accept yourself, for many reasons, but when you try to push it away, it doesn't get any better, it never changes."

Your voice was hoarse as you asked in confirmation.  "It never changes?"

She shook her head, "It never changes. You have to decide for yourself.

Do whatever makes you happy, feel whatever makes you happy, no matter how different it is, no matter how alone you may feel."

You pursed your lips as tears built in your eyes, she was right, of course she was.

"Well, it helps knowing I'm not the only one."

The woman nodded her head in agreement, wallowing over the memories of her feeling alone, of her heartbreakingly coming to the realization of how she truly felt, of who she really was.

It brought her sadness, to know that others felt the same; perhaps even worse.

"The journey is not an easy one, it's not for the weak. You have to know that you're strong, and you're worthy, always."

The sliders were placed on your table, averting her attention.

She carefully cut them all in half, holding up a piece of the bacon and cheese as she offered the rest to you.

"Bon appétit."

The principal stamped the book blue and picked up the last clue.

 '"At midnight, in the month of June, I stand beneath the mystic moon." What establishment is named after this poet?'

She looked down at you with a finger pointed your way.

You scrunched your eyebrows, Edgar Allan Poe.

The only establishment could be, "The Poe!"

You and the principal laughed, shouting the answer at the same time.

༻༺

7.

 You headed to The Poe, a small museum and shop on the beach that sold trinkets, drinks, and ice cream.

Principal Weems stamped the last page purple, turning in the scavenger hunt book to the shop.

"Well, congratulations! You were fifth to finish the scavenger hunt."

You laughed, fifth place.

The tall woman smiled down at you with a wink, "We're losers."

You both were, in fact, losers.

After collecting your prizes and ordering ice cream, which the principal insisted on, you made your way to a bench on the beach.

You watched the woman with great interest. An intelligent, interesting woman she was. A powerful, selfless woman. A perceptive woman, a force to be reckoned with.

You hoped and prayed that you would grow up to be at least half the person that she was.

The principal caught your interest with a low chuckle.

"I'm having lots of fun with you, love, but I'm sorry you had to spend the day with your principal."

You tilted your head in confusion; you were not sorry, not one bit.

"I'm not sorry. Today was the best day I've had in awhile. Thank you."

The woman pouted, opening her arms to you; you gladly embraced her.

With a deep breath you pulled away, placing your hand in her soft reassuring one.

"So what happened with your friend? The one you wanted to kiss?"

The principal chuckled remorsefully. "Nothing."

Looking out over the water, her smile turned to a frown.

"I wanted to hold her, to protect her from men with all the fury I had grown.

They don't see her beauty like I do, they don't care to.

But unfortunately, it's the same old story."

She turned to you with sad eyes.

"A girl cries over a girl and that girl cries over a guy, and well…

it goes on and on and on,

and it doesn't stop.

It never stops."

You were just like her, perhaps there was hope for you.

Just then, fireworks lit up the darkness of the beach. All colors of the spectrum were on display, but all you saw was red, orange, white, and pink.

Your attention was then diverted to a girl wearing a Nevermore uniform as she made her way to you.

She waved, "Hi Principal Weems."

She then looked to you. "Hi Y/N"

She spoke with the principal as you analyzed her. You recognized her, but you didn't know her name, so how did she know yours?

The girl's eyes landed on you once again, meeting your gaze. You didn't want to ask.

"Aura, I like your pin." A sly tone to the older woman's voice.

You followed the principals gaze to the pin on Aura's jacket, then you peered down at the pin attached to yours.

"Thanks Principal Weems" she smiled, eyes slowly trailing to the woman's pin, then to yours.

Your eyebrows furrowed, and Aura's raised in surprise.

"Oh, we all have the same pin!"

The principal chuckled, gazing down at you with a bright smile.

"See darling, you're never alone. I promise you're not the only one."

[bluecanvasshoe]

Time and Place - EEAIETIF

Chapter 3 of Everything Eats and is Eaten (Time is Fed)

Red Dead Redemption x teen!fem!reader

Summary: The journey to Saint Denis is a lonely, daunting task. But the world really isn't as big as it seems, and maybe this is only the start of a long trip down old roads.

Warnings: descriptions of panic attacks, big cat jumps u, talk of guns

A/N: This chapter is a little short, i will admit, but i had trouble writing this one. However, this one is still important to the plot!!! i'm excited for the next though! stay tuned!!

and thank god in the most atheist way possible for the ability to write in html on posts. i would not have survived without it

this is PLATONIC! :D

Word count: 2.3k

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Taglist is open! Comment if u wanna join! :)

-----

It was late at night, the stars having come out and the moon shining bright, outdoing the stars’ brilliance.

You slipped out of bed, dressed in two layers of clothes to minimize the amount of things you needed to store in your old, patched-up bag. Holding your breath, you listened for anyone outside of your room.

It was quiet. The house creaked occasionally, and crickets chirped outside, but it was quiet.

Standing up cautiously, you pursed your lips as you prayed the floorboards wouldn’t creak obnoxiously loud. They thankfully didn’t, allowing you to tiptoe towards your bag. It had been hidden underneath your splintered, wooden wardrobe, packed with bare-minimum necessities.

Slinging it over your shoulders, you shuffled to the door of your bedroom and twisted the handle. Taking one last look at the bedroom you’d had for years so far, you realized that this would likely be the last time you’d be in this godforsaken house.

The bed was unmade, the window open to allow the breeze in. Shadows of tree branches were cast on the low ceiling, the room bathed in a dark blue light. It was peaceful. Your life was peaceful. Nightmares would plague you regularly, but farm life in a quiet, field-filled area would calm your nerves. Meals were assured, and you were never alone and left to drown in your thoughts often. There weren’t many people to talk to, and you hadn’t had a nervous fit in some time.

Were you ready to leave?

Was chasing a ‘maybe’ worth it?

It was a thought that you neglected to mull over, considering the fact that you gave yourself an afternoon to crack a plan on how to get out of your new home. But you figured that it’d be time to leave home soon enough, as you were, responsibility-wise, more than capable of living alone and old enough anyways.

Sighing, you pushed down any feelings of uncertainty and anxiousness.

You turned, closing the door gently and taking a deep, quiet breath. The stairs, a formidable enemy, now stood before you and freedom. A hand on the banister, you walked down with caution, dodging floorboards you knew would groan under your weight. One screeched underneath you, and you froze.

Anne was a light sleeper; she said she became one after beginning to take in foster kids, whatever that meant. There had been many times when you would attempt to slip out undetected, only to be jumpscared by a sleep-ridden Anne with a disappointed look on her face. The surprisingly big rats you lived with, or your supposed brothers, had also been the cause of Anne’s lack of sleep.

However, seconds passed… and nothing happened. Breathing a sigh of relief, you continued down the staircase and approached the backdoor. You fished a note out of the pocket of your bottoms, unfolding it and giving the letter a quick once-over before placing it on the dining table.

A closet stood to your left, the key to it in your pocket. You slowly walked towards it, pulling out the small metal tool before raising it to the closet door’s lock. Inserting it, you twisted the handle of the key before carefully opening the well-oiled door, a contrast to the neglected hinges of the rest of the house. Inside hung an array of guns, from hunting rifles for smaller game to a shotgun with rib-breaking knockback.

Reaching in, you grabbed a hunting rifle, extra ammo, gun oil, and a brush. David would notice a gun of his was gone; he always noticed. He noticed if one was tampered with, he noticed if one was ever so slightly askew from their normal positions, and he sure as hell would notice if one was missing. But when was the last time he used a hunting rifle, anyways? It won’t matter. It doesn’t matter. Not anymore.

You closed the closet’s door, locking it before walking back over to the dining table to place the key on the note.

Finally, you reached the back entrance and pulled the door open. The breeze hit your face, the scent of spring carried in the night’s air. The outside was pitch black, but these parts were known for the quiet, lawful community, so there wasn’t a need for fear despite the nagging feeling in your chest.

You stepped out of the house, closing the door behind you as quietly as possible. You crouched down, grabbing your working boots before pulling them on and lacing them up with practiced ease. Going over a list in your head, you triple-checked your memory to make sure you’d grabbed everything you needed before setting off to the ranch’s stables.

Most horses owned by your foster family were shires, as things like hay or products to be sold often needed to be transported to and from the ranch. Thankfully, there were a few horses used simply for riding, though there was one in particular that you had taken a liking to. He was fast enough and had good endurance, a reliable horse to be out on the road with.

You tacked him up, mulling over your reckless decisions once again, and finally got out onto the road.

—

The first word you’d use to describe the journey to Saint Denis would be one thing: eerie.

You see, where your foster home was situated sat a few miles west from the Grizzlies. That, of course, was out of the picture. A snowy, mountainous wasteland was hopeless and risky to go through alone.

So, you opted to cut through West Elizabeth.

But the crevices and corners of this place held strange secrets that made you afraid of nighttime. The only thing that comforted you in the dead of night was the fact that your horse was incredibly easy to spook and therefore would make some sort of noise if there was something amiss. Nevertheless, the fear persisted.

And to add to your fear of the night in general, the feeling of being a teenager, on the run and alone in relatively unknown territory was terrifying. Not knowing what to do, where to go, or if your decision would derail your life was a daunting thought. You were in such a big space, nothing in each direction, no way of finding anything; not the right path, not a helpful stranger, hell, not even yourself in the midst of this void-on-earth. You have never been in this situation before, nor do you know anyone who has. A feeling of doom has plagued you for far too long.

But maybe the nothingness was okay, because the silence that came with less and less interaction cleared your mind, allowed you to think for once in years. You forgot how much alone time helped.

–

Birds chirped and foxes yowled as you trudged your way through the dirt paths of West Elizabeth. During the day, and especially the morning, it was peaceful.

The sun had risen not long ago, and its rays were still golden and rich. Dark, green pines riddled with budding pine cones were doused in the light, casting soft shadows and highlighting the hidden shades of light green within their needles. Bushes, shrubs, weeds, and flowers swayed softly, the sound of leaves creating a cacophony of nature and highlighting the silence of the morning.

Your horse trudged on at a slow pace, rocking you back and forth in a repetitive motion.

A few minutes went by of map checking and endless, tree-filled nothingness when the borderline unnatural growl of a cougar was heard. The horse beneath you immediately went into flight mode, rearing and causing you to fall from your spot on its back.

You hit the ground with a thump, the wind being knocked from your chest as panic and adrenaline coursed through your veins.

You reached for the hunting rifle you nicked from David’s collection on your back, only to find nothing there. You panicked and watched as the beige, human-sized mountain lion spotted oh-so-vulnerable you, getting ready to pounce with a guttural growl. Your vision grew white and fuzzy, the wildcat looking closer than it actually was, the trees caving in on you.

It jerked to the left, letting out a piercing yowl as one of its back legs gave out. A muffled bang, and then it stumbled before turning its attention to a figure. Your vision cleared the slightest bit, and your panic-muddled brain recognized the shape of a man holding a shotgun.

The next few moments felt like a dream, your head dizzy and eyes perpetually unfocused. The hard, rough gravel beneath you grounded your thoughts as rocks dug into your hands that held your body up.

Then, a hand was put in front of your face.

“Ma’am? Ma’am? Hello? I’m—“ An older man’s voice came from above you, causing you to crane your head up towards him. He had a scruffy beard and a brimmed hat, his skin tanned and freckled from the sun. His clothes were obviously patched up in a few places, a shotgun held in his free hand.

You took his hand hesitantly, looking up at him with slight confusion as you stood.

“Where’s my horse?” you asked, looking past his shoulder and seeing nothing.

The man scoffed, “I just saved your goddamn life, and you thank me like that?” He had a bushy eyebrow raised, his expression one of slight annoyance.

Your eyebrows raised as your focus went back to the heroic stranger in front of you. “Of course, I—thank you, sir, I didn’t mean to offend—” “Kid, are you serious?” he laughed. “I was joking. Jesus, you got a stick up your ass or somethin’?" He grinned, stepping away and adjusting the hat on his head.

“He ain’t far; don’t worry. I’ll get him for ya, let you regain your senses and whatnot.” He turned before you could protest, leaving you standing there, incredibly confused as you watched his retreating figure.

Sighing, you busied yourself with dusting off your clothes and taking a breath. Though the cougar was long dead, you were still afraid of another wild animal jumping out at you, but this time, you wouldn’t have the safety of the hunter. Your mind cleared, and you decided to listen to the birds chirping to busy your mind as the adrenaline wore off.

You looked up from your absentminded staring when the sound of gravel under worn boots was followed by languid hoofbeats further ahead. The man was walking towards you, a slight limp in his step you hadn’t noticed before.

“Here he is,” the man said, meeting you halfway as you approached him and your horse. “Got some bad news, though… Looks like your bedroll fell off when he was runnin’. He must’ve kicked it or somethin’, ‘cause it’s pretty damn torn up.” The older man handed back the reins of your not-so-trusty steed. You accepted them into your hands, a palm tentatively brushing down the horse's nose and resting on his neck.

You whispered a curse under your breath, pursing your lips.

“That’s… That ain’t too good. Thanks for tellin’ me, sir. I'll be off if you don’t need any kind of payment—” “Payment?” He interrupted, chuckling as he shook his head. “Jesus Christ. Loosen up, kid. And we still say the youth are too laid back.”

You didn’t know how to reply.

“Uh, I—” “Listen, I’ve got a friend back at the Hanging Dog Ranch. You heard of it?” You listened with slight annoyance, sharing a one-sided, exasperated glance with your horse.

“No, I’m not really from around—” “Well, it’s a nice place.” Oh. My. God.

You decided to let him speak, seeing as he just couldn’t let you get a word in no matter what.

“I can ask him if he’s got an extra bedroll or something. Mind givin’ me a ride?” He gestured to the horse, and you inwardly groaned.

“Yeah, of course.” You sighed, walking around to the side of the animal before stepping up and onto him with practiced ease. Getting yourself settled into the stiff saddle, you turned him around to help get the older man up. Extending a calloused hand that was grabbed by his, you helped pull him up behind you.

“Oh, and uh, by the way, my name’s Guy.”

Of course.

–

After a myriad of confusing instructions that went along the lines of, ”Go right. No, wait, no, go left. Actually… yeah, yeah, go right,” the two of you had finally made it to the incredibly scenic ranch. Purple beds of lavender flourished before it, small streams of water separating the full and healthy grass. Deer grazed in pairs or small groups, their heads lifting and regarding you, your horse, and the awfully chatty stranger behind you.

Stopping at the ranch, the man went on about his long-winded past with the owner and his family. “You see, we met at an auction. It smelled like shit, and that’s about all I remember from it, other  than—” “Yeah, that’s… uh-huh, sounds real interesting.” You nodded, stepping down and onto the ground beneath you, tying the reins of your now very dusty steed onto a hitching post just outside the ranch’s gates.

Helping the old man off, the two of you set off to the larger house that overlooked the rest of the ranch’s buildings. “You stay here. I’ll go talk to the old bastard.” Guy said, holding the back of his right hip as he turned and walked off, his boots squelching in the mud of the path.

You absorbed yourself in the scenery when a familiar face rounded a corner.

You were looking for Charles Smith. You’d be happy with just Charles Smith.

So why is John Marston here?

Your eyes widened, mouth agape, as you watched him narrow his eyes, looking at you with slight familiarity before it clicked. He looked the same as ever, but his hair was a bit shorter, and his clothes were more civilian, ranch hand-like than they were outlaw.

“No way,” you saw him mouth, dropping the mallet he held and jogging towards you.

You couldn't move, standing there with wide eyes.

“Kid?”

--

TAGLIST!!!

@gallantys

[iridescentpull]

Gatos e Rosas will be on hold for a week or so since I have a VERY busy week ahead of me and won't have time to write the new chapters.

As an apology, I did a thing on twitter that for every like the tweet received, I would post one fact about a character of the GeR universe (mainly fitpac ofc).

So here's part one of those facts, hope you enjoy :) lmk if you want more!

Ramón was adopted by Fit and Spreen when he was barely 3 years old

Pac lost his leg in an accident (will be explained in the story) when he was 19

Fit went to the army straight when he was fresh outta highschool, thinking he knew everything (he didn't)

Pac's amputation is an above knee one, also known as a transfemoral one

Phil and Missa are in a queerplatonic marriage

Tina works in the fashion industry and has dreams of owning her own boutique and line in the future

Quesadilla City is a small city in a fictional island located in the Northern Hemisphere

Ramón is autistic, and he goes nonverbal whenever he's extremely stressed or overstimulated. He and Fit communicate through sign language when that happens

Pac has diagnosed depression and anxiety and takes meds for it

Cellbit and Roier met when they were called to the school because Richas and Bobby had a fight

Fit figured out he was gay when he was in his teens, but didn't accept it until he was in his late twenties/early thirties

Roier does drag, aka Melissa

Quackity HATES Chayanne, and the feeling is mutual with Chayanne. Their hate-relationship started since Chayanne was a toddler

Missa works in a really famous orchestra, which means he often has to travel around for concerts, leaving his family behind for long periods of time

The first few weeks after Pac was alone in his new apartment for the first time, he fell into a rough depressive episode. He slowly got better after adopting Xereta

Ramón's special interest is the Krebs Cycle. Fit has no idea when, what, or how his son even learned what the krebs cycle is, but he's happy to listen Ramóns infodumps

After Pac and Mike immigrated from Brazil, Mike searched high and low for somewhere they could stay that would be cheap until they could get back on their feet. He met Bagi, who was searching for more roommates at the time. They moved in, and the Favela Five apartment was born

Death Family live in the more country side of the city, around the same area as Mike and Mine

Fit lost his arm up until the shoulder, also known as shoulder disarticulation

Pac and Mike met in the orphanage at Brazil when they were both seven and five, respectively

Fit and Phil met just when Fit was discharged and lived together as roommates until Phil met Missa

Quesadilla City is a VERY diverse city, with immigrants from all over the world having their little communities spread around. The Favela is one of the most popular communities, though!

Cellbit works at Ordo Theorita’s Publishing House, and he dreams of publishing his own thriller book in the future

Pac is transmasc, and had his top surgery in his midtwenties after the Favela Five managed to scrap enough money to pay for it

Ramón's biggest fear is his dad being lonely. His second biggest fear are heights

[pappydaddy]

pesky hair (j.m.)

a/n: this title sucks, i am sorry, i had nothing! reminder! i am testing out a new format, idk if i like it yet

tv show/movie: outer banks | pairing: jj maybank x fem!reader

requested by a lovely anon as part of my 800 follower celebration

synopsis: jj recounts the most memorable times he did something about y/n's pesky hair

taglist: @luvhann | @thelakespoets  | @lonely-simp | @smarie7543 | @tenaciousperfectionunknown | @k-k0129 | @maybankslover | @taurusvic | @moralina | @verystarfishflower | @4dr1ana | @adr1ana | @instabull | @poppet05 | @rottenstyx | @boxofsilentwords | @popeheywardssecretgf | @lexi-2004 | @i-always-come-back-xoxo | @rootbeerfaygo | @444lyra | @savagemickey03 *line through your user means i could not tag you lovelies!

warnings: fluff | fluff | fluff | descriptive appearance (tried to be as vague as possible)

navigation | masterlist | taglist sign-up

____

  Y/N had a love-hate relationship with her hair. Cute cut that’s low maintenance to style - love! Being able to let her hair air dry after a long day of swimming - love! The very, very infrequent bed head monstrosity - love! When her hair just won’t go up in a claw clip properly - hate. When her bangs wouldn’t dry right so now she’s stuck with weirdly shaped bangs - hate. The times when she can’t wash her hair on the proper hair wash day and her hair starts to morph into little mats and tangles - hate. Those little strands of hair that just keep falling out of place and getting into her face - triple, no, quadruple; no, infinitely hate. Actually, she loathes it and it makes her want to chop off all the hair on her head despite the fact that she absolutely adores it. She was truly blessed with great hair - a miracle many people envied.

  JJ has learned this throughout their long friendship turned romantic relationship. He actually learned this way back in middle school when he noticed her starting to wear headbands all the time. Of course, he had to figure out why she kept pushing her hair back when he knew she loved her hair. Now he realises that the reason he knew she loved her hair and noticed she was suddenly really into headbands was because he was head over heels for the girl who lived beside his best friend. 

  Since the day he learned it bugged her, he had dreamed of taking the hair and brushing it behind her ear while she talked (so enthralled in her conversation) like he sometimes saw her do. While they were close in their friendship, there was a level of intimacy to the action that crossed the “just friendly” boundary and JJ would shit himself if he knew she knew how he felt for her. Because how would someone like her ever love someone such as JJ Maybank? 

  The first time JJ actually did it was completely involuntary. Autonomic if you will. It was a few months into their relationship. It was all flushed faces, shy glances across the room as they hung out with the other Pogues, and awkward touches until they fit together like perfectly matched puzzle pieces. They were alone outside of John B’s. The rest of the Pogues having retired into the house for the night. 

  The only light coming from the moon, the stars, the dim fire in front of them, and the fireflies dancing around the air. Y/N was talking about her favourite show, talking fast and adamantly about the theories, how things connect to each other, and her opinions on everything. JJ had to be honest, he was not retaining any of it. He was too captivated by how pretty she looked right then and there. With the excitement in her eyes, the way her hands flew through the air as she explained everything. The way she would cut herself off as she was explaining one thing and start explaining another thing because she suddenly remembered it. And then he saw it. The slight, aggressive flick of her head trying to get that annoying stand of hair out of her face and the daydreams started. 

  He tried to ignore them as he started to try to take in some of the information she was giving him, but he could see the frustration start to build in her as she resorted to blowing at the hair in between words. At first, he thought he had imagined reaching out, his fingers lightly brushing against her cheek as he gingerly tucked the strand behind her ear. He had assumed he had imagined it because that has been what he’s done for the past six years. But the way her rant was suddenly cut off by her own shock made him realise that he did not imagine it. 

  Instantly, his own face dropped, his heart dropping to his ass along with it. A raging blush overcame both their faces as they stared at each other, wide eyed and completely short-circuiting. But soon, once the shock wore off and the sparks beneath their skin from where they touched subsided, they fell back into place - this time much closer (physically and emotionally). 

____

  The second time was smoother if you asked JJ. This was almost a year into their relationship. Intimacy was at an all time high. Butterflies still swirled in the stomach, but the awkward phase had released its grasp on them. Blushes still adorned their cheeks and the L-word was on the tips of their tongues. 

  It was midsomers, she was invited by Sarah and Kie invited Cleo while the boys found work at the party. It was supposed to be a girls night, but JJ convinced the boys to find jobs “just in case those Kooks try to pull a fast one on our girls” he had claimed. They already knew that he just wanted to see Y/N all pretty in her dress under the dim lighting of the outdoor festivities. 

  JJ’s shift as bar back had ended since he set up the bar meaning the second bar back was tasked with cleaning it up. For the most part, the party was over, but Y/N still sat at one of the tables. Moonlight and fairy lights illuminating her as she sipped at what was left of her wine. “This seat taken?” He had asked flirtatiously, earning a tipsy giggle from her. 

  “Well, I was hoping my boyfriend would be along soon, but I guess it’s free.” She waved a dismissive hand at the chair with a smothered giggle slipping past her lipstick-covered lips. 

  JJ pulled the seat out from the table, scooting it impossibly close to Y/N’s before sitting in it, happy to finally get off his feet. They were throbbing in the damn dress shoes and his suit was too tight and constricting, but being able to see her having fun tonight and dancing was all worth it. “That boyfriend of yours must be awfully lucky to manage to have a girl like you like him.” 

  She hummed in fake thought. “Actually, I think I’m the lucky one,” She admitted, leaning towards him. Getting the hint, JJ also leaned in, pressing a kiss to her lips sweetly. She hummed against his lips, melting against him the best she could in two separate chairs. “I am so tired.” She declared. 

  “I’d say,” JJ snorted endearingly. “I think you and Sarah spent most of the night dancing and consumed a half a bottle of champagne each.” He recounted the night. Luckily, he kept track of how much they were drinking so he knew what type of tipsy he was dealing with. 

  “We had fun, shut up.” She pouted, tipsily hitting his chest in fake hurt. His chest shook under her hand as he laughed at her. Looking at her, smudged and faded lipstick mostly staying on her lips, her eyes heavy but so bright and wide at the sametime. Her voice was light but slightly louder than normal. But what got JJ was her hair. Once perfectly styled into some complicated half-up half-down updo with “face framing” (whatever that meant, JJ had no idea but he loved it), now the curls had mostly fallen out and instead of a few strands of hair in her face, most of her hair was loose. 

  Watching her nose twitch as her pesky stranglers that slipped out of her updo tickled her cheek, he reached his hand up, fingers lightly brushing against her warm cheekbone (from the alcohol induced flush). Enjoying the feeling of her soft skin under his fingertips for a moment, he continued to tuck the annoying hair behind her ear. Her glossy eyes looked up into his, swimming with affection. “I know you did, Bub. Let’s get you to bed so you can rest from you fun night.” 

____ 

  The third time was by far JJ’s favourite. She was sitting there in front of him in the darkened room, candles surrounding them, illuminating them and the room in a dim glow. Both of them were tired but buzzing at the same time. In the candle light, he could see the white gown she wore, a figure of beauty. The centre of attention for the whole day not just because she was the bride. 

  “What do you say, Mr. Maybank,” She whispered, her eyes dancing with mischief. JJ didn’t say anything, knowing she had more to say. Instead, he just looked at her with nothing but admiration and love within his blue eyes. Her makeup was worn off for the most part, mascara flaked, lipstick rubbed off (mostly by his own lips), and her foundation slightly caked from all the celebrations at the reception. “Feel any different?” She asked with a lift of her eyebrow, a smile tugging at one corner of her lips. 

  His own smile took over as he lifted his hand. Her eyes fluttered closed, already anticipating his touch, leaning her cheek closer to his hand to meet him. She let out a little content sigh when she felt his fingertips brush her cheekbone, tucking the hair behind her ear before settling along her jawline. Warmth filled her heart, so overwhelming that she nuzzled her cheek further into his hand, trying to express how much she loved it. 

  “Even more in love with you, Mrs. Maybank.” He whispered, leaning towards her face until his lips met hers in a sweet, passionate, and long kiss. One that made Y/N’s inner school girl giggle and kick her feet in the air as if she were reading one of her cheesy teen romance novels that she loved so much back then.

[mayullla]

I hope I'm doing this right? (also I'm pretty sure the event is open but I can't see dates so I'm not certain) if not feel free to ignore me

🌼🐝 Yan kazuha

Title: Wandering Ghost

Character(s): Kazuha (Genshin Impact) Summary: They told you never to make a promise to a ghost, and for the most part you did follow. But you have been curious about that ghost who lived in the woods. Warnings/tags: Yandere themes, Gn!reader, kidnapping, minor character death, slight angst(?), 1.3k words

[ - A little present~! Event - Closed - ]

Ever since you were a child, you could always see ghosts and spirits. Wearing the clothes that they died in or were buried with, their body a little faded that you could see through them. It wasn't normal really when both your parents nor most of the villagers in your hometown were not even able to see them.

Some looked at you with amazement and reverence, hoping to use you as some sort of link between the living and the dead. Some looked at you with suspicion and distrust while others kept their distance away from you. There was an old saying in the village after all... that those who could see the dead would disappear one day, leaving no note nor evidence of where they left.

They believe spirits could easily fall in love with those who could see them and as easily take them away.

That was what your parents were afraid of, fearing they would see their child suddenly disappear from their eyes when they were not looking. Taken away from them to the spirit world. They made you promise them that you will never make a promise with a spirit or yokai, as they knew it would only be impossible to take you away from them altogether.

"Never make a promise with a spirit." You mumbled to yourself a habit that your parents created to remind yourself. You looked outside from the window, getting ready to head to the woods to gather and store wood for the coming winter. The sun was high up in the sky.

You gathered as much wood as you can, the whole day taking a break every so often when you were tired but also for lunch. Time passed, and soon, the sun was setting.

"Who are you?" You asked cautiously, eyes narrowed a little far away you saw a silhouette of a man. His eyes widen in surprise that you could see him yet just as naturally, just as quickly accepted the fact that you could and smiled.

"I am just a wandering spirit... Kaedehara Kazuha."

The man spoke in a soft tone and when you figured that he wasn't anything dangerous you slowly dropped your guard around him, you have seen many of these kinds of spirits, and while some are dangerous almost as if insanity had taken over them, Kazuha in comparison to them was calmer.

The spirit was curious as to how you were able to see him. Alone for so long, he wished to talk to someone even just once. You pitied the ghost when he told you how long was stuck here, how long he was alone, however, you were still cautious after all the people around you always told you to be careful. To stay cautious so as not to let the ghost grow attached to you. But you were also curious about him, too, when you figured out who he was and as he told you his story of the past.

He had a calm demeanor and again kind and soft-spoken. He had this whimsical feeling around him as if the wind spoke to him. Sometimes, you thought that was the case. You were curious about the young wandering samurai and how he had died.

Whenever you would head to the woods, you would see Kazuha somewhere between the trees looking at you, a smile gracing his lips when you notice him as he flew towards you his feet not quite reaching the grassy floor, asking your day and such. 

You have become sort of friends. When he asked you if you would continue to stay with him as a companion with whom he could talk when he feels lonely… and you accepted his request.

You shouldn't have done it. You shouldn't have made a promise, one so vague and could be manipulated as they see fit.

When did it take a turn for the worst... after months into your friendship, you finally told him that you thought you found the one that you love. Someone who you thought you could spend your life with, and that this person also looked at you the same way. The smile on Kazuha's face was stiff, yet you were just too excited to notice as he asked you to continue talking. You told him of your partner's eyes and their personality. You told them that you have always found them to be lovely or charming, but there was never a chance for you and them to talk. Till a week ago.

Yet right as soon after your heart shattered like glass, it was as if you felt something within you left. Ripped from your body leaving so so cold.

"It was a windy day... They went a little farther than usual from the village close to the cliffs and..."

You didn't know what to make of this news as your friend stared at your face, your hands and feet were cold, your heart breathing loudly in your ears and so was the sound of your breath. You snapped. Your friend and a neighbor who happened to be near had to hold you back as you tried to push their arms away frantically, trying to escape their hold to look for your loved one.

But they could do nothing.

"What did you do, Kazuha!!" You shouted in anger, the howling sounds of the wind loud in your ears as you glared at the spirit. Your heart was broken and some would think that you were accusing the spirit due to sadness instead of a clear mind. But you knew... you knew that it was him who did it. He was the one who cause your pain and anguish.

The soft look that he gave you, as if unaffected by your accusations. On his hand, he held a small leaf, a physical one something you knew he could create tunes with as he had shown you on many occasions. Releasing the leaf, he let it return to the wind to the living world and not in the dead man's hand.

"Answer me, Kazuha! Why did you do it!!" You demanded, tears in your eyes but refusing to shed. Not when you wanted answers. Not when you were in front of the one who pushed your loved one to the peak of the mountain. "I should have never trusted you!!"

"Don't cry... don't cry. It will ruin and stain your lovely skin for something so useless." Kazuha touched your face, a ghost touch that leaves chills down your spine as you tried to push his hand away only to pass through. "What have you done, Kazuha." You said unamused, all you wanted were answers before you return back to your home and have time for yourself in sorrow, never to step foot in the forest where he was ever again.

And he knew it, too.

Kazuha looks down at you, his all too near to your so close. "I've asked myself this question many times, ever since I died. My clan was on the verge of collapsing when I was born, and when I grew, the only thing that remained was my life, which had been deemed a criminal." Kazuha's hands were cold to your skin as he continued to whisper, you have heard of this story once told by an old man who once worked for the Kaedehara clan a long long time ago but also from him.

"Yet in my attempts to flee, I was soon caught and killed. I thought that was my end however when I woke up, I have become a ghost shackled here. I believe that a person could become a ghost because something here was holding them back. I wondered why I have become one as I do not have anything anymore and thought that I have accepted my faith." You felt your tears wiped gently by his thumb, his eyes gently looking down on you. "I wandered aimlessly in circles till I met you."

"And I think I found my answer."

It wasn't long before the village started its search for you in the forest. The people you knew called out your name, hoping to receive an answer back. But it was too late, as another one who could see the past was taken away from this world in the arms of a ghost who loved them dearly.

[fellshish]

I think it's fantastic that pride exists, but I've personally never wanted to participate in a parade or really been able to relate to to it at all, and I guess I'm worried that that makes me not a proper true queer? Sounds stupid, I know, but for all that I'm bi (but also aspec, so I don't date much full stop, so never get clocked as anything except straight-with-spinster-tendencies) and nb (but while I go by they/them, the way I tend to present means to an outside observer I look cis 99 out of 100 times) I'm also a very... how do I put this? Not traditional, I can't f-ing stand tradition... conventional and boring person and it does sometimes feel like I'm being shamed or guilted for wanting a too 'cishet' life, instead of fully embracing the queer aesthetic and lifestyle in all aspects. It's just not my thing, I'm afraid and I worry that's going to leave me isolated, that I'm never going to find my people, my place where I belong or fit in, and instead always be stuck as an outsider between two groups. Not quite normal enough to be socially acceptable, not quite different or abnormal enough to fit into or be welcome in a queer community that sometimes seems to require being true to yourself to mean consistent willful immediately-outwardly-visible defiance of all social conventions and expectations and not accept anything less than that. And that, especially when pride month rolls around, can just be a really lonely and scary feeling.

... sorry for word-vomiting this on you, but I needed to get this off my chest, and sometimes it's easier to dump stuff on strangers on the internet than on people you know irl and need to continue to face every day, you know?

Sorry to hear you feel so alone. You’re definitely not alone — the queer community has plenty of people who present “conventionally” but you might not notice them because you assume they’re cishet ;)

I think we’re all part of this community and there’s no right or wrong aesthetic or wrong way to live your life. As long as you support (the rights of) those who can’t “pass” as well as you. And if any people ever make YOU feel unwelcome, those are not people worth your time.

Meanwhile just because you are more “conventionally looking” / “passing” doesn’t mean you can’t have a queer community. The fact that you’re on tumblr probably means you already have an online queer community that you fit into.

But out there, there might be activities you fit more into. For example if you like reading you can seek out a queer reading group and make queer friends you share an interest with regardless of whether or not people “present” queer. A lot of hobbies have queer groups :)

Also as a small side note i understand not being interested in “participating in a parade” but just to be clear it’s first and foremost a protest. The celebration of queerness is an empowering part of pride but the protest part is still very much necessary. There are still rights to be fought for in every country. Conservatism is rising and we shouldn’t be complacent. Any rights you and i might have, have been achieved because of the relentless work of activists and also pride protests.

That said, you don’t have to participate in pride if you don’t want to, of course.

[smart-dreamy]

Last night I read a trivia about the Disney studios and, today, I was in the way to the church and I had a sudden epiphany about Disney recent movies and why they look different from the old ones (yes, I’ve already reach peak daydreaming mood).

Yesterday, I discovered that in the 1990’s and 2000’s Disney company had a main studio to the “blockbuster projects” and a “auxiliar studio” in Florida (alias: a studio were Disney bosses hired creative and skilled animators and screenwriters, but never gave them full freedom to develop theirs ideas. Basically, kept them there to make sure other studios wouldn’t have an upper hand to surpass them with theirs talent. Television media does a similar thing hiring actors and hosts who are getting better audience in other channels and put them in small shows).

But, the thing was that the main studio was too busy crafting 3D animation after buying the Pixar studios; therefore, they let the Florida studio staff do whatever they wanted, and we were blessed with the Experimental Era; which only lasted till the main studio took back the reels with the 3D animation and ended the Florida studios moment of spotlight (a good part of the staff went to Dreamworks, by the way).

Even though I really love “Tangled” and “Moana” and other modern movies, and I feel they have that “Classic Disney” feel, I can’t deny that “Wish” and other recent productions don’t bring me the “feel” and today I finally noticed why: Disney can’t make movies like they did once before because Disney forgot what it is to be an outcast!

If we really think about it, we see that what we love about the old movies isn’t just the cinematography and music, it’s the empathy and warmth we feel about the main characters. I still remember how joyful I felt when watching “Beauty and the Beast” and feeling connected to Belle’s inner passion and distracted nature and to the fact she was surrounded by people who didn’t understand her dreams (nor tried to).

But, that’s only the surface level of being an “outcast”, you don’t need to be rejected from society to be an outcast. For me, the best “Classic Disney” moments of that idea is the debut scenes of the princesses in “The Little Mermaid” and “Pocahontas”. Both characters are important on theirs communities (they are daughters of the leaders and already have a steady and comfortable life), and theirs debut scenes are literally theirs absent in an important social event (I mean, Ariel didn’t care about being the spotlight of a whole kingdom that gathered just to applause her beautiful singing). That simple act of denial from both princesses already reveal theirs personalities: they have good lives, but it’s not theirs dream life. They choose to cast themselves out theirs societies, because they see they are different from theirs surroundings.

Still, being an outcast isn’t just about being “different from society”, it’s about wanting to change your life and already have tried so many times and with all your strengths and will, but still being powerless. It’s the feeling of wanting a better life and actually earning it, but never having the grasp of such life because the society or people that can help you to achieve such dreams don’t see you as fit for it.

I know (and even laugh about too) of the “Disney princess crying in the ground moment” memes and internet jokes of the old Disney movies, but that is exactly what it means to be an outcast. It means to feel trapped, alone and misjudged. You feel miserable and sad not because things don’t go your way, but because you’ve been trying and trying every day to make your life better and each day it fails, and it looks like it doesn’t matter how much you work, try and rise above your doubts and fears, you reach a moment you notice you can’t change your life. That’s being an outcast.

Being an outcast is feeling you should have a different life, but knowing it’s above your reach. It’s Aladdin singing to the lone streets, it’s Mulan crying in the rain in loneliness and shame, it’s Cinderella racing to cry in the backyard because her last hope for joy and bliss was ruined, it’s Louis tearing his notebook apart feeling worthless, it’s Ariel sobbing above the shatters of her dream life, it’s Tiana praying for a Star because she has nowhere else to turn to, it’s Rapunzel lying to Gothel as a last resource to see the lanterns, it’s Esmeralda crying and praying on the feet of a religion that isn’t even her own because her people are suffering and dying!

Being an outcast is not just about society interactions, it’s a feeling of abandonment.

When you are an outcast, you will reach a level of despair and hopelessness that you won’t be able to move on by yourself, you will need help because the effect you need in your life is above your doing. There we have the cathartic “magic intervention” in Disney movies: the Fairy Godmother, The Fa family ancestors meeting, Naveen showing up in the balcony, Ariel making a Faustian deal (a dark turn, but you got what I meant), Genie helping Aladdin, Ralph and Vanellope bonding while practicing driving and Moana following the instructions of her grandmother spirit.

Why “Wish” didn’t have these moments? Because Disney can’t understand why these moments matter, because only outcasts know how it feel to be that way.

Disney has surpassed the common level of movie industry, they already have the power over mostly of our entertainment media and I don’t exactly complain, because there’re several movies they made I do enjoy, like Marvel movies (till “Endgame”). But, it’s clear they missed theirs way with the “outcast protagonist” plots, because it’s not about quick jokes and CGI effects; it’s about audience connection and our wanting for the hero to rise above theirs trials.

Disney don’t know what it is to be powerless and miserable because they are the Big Bosses of the game! They own thousands of merchandise companies, theirs brand means a world by itself and any beginning artist would dream to work in the company.

And, we can see they are struggling with understanding the outcast’s point of view with what they did to Asha in “Wish”. Asha is not an outcast, but they wanted us to buy that idea just to fit the “Classic Disney trope”, but Asha is far from being an outcast! The whole character feels bland and superficial, because her dreams are superficial! I won’t take more lines to explain and develop how her wish for “more than this” is bland, because 3/4 of the internet already talked about it and explained it very well. But, just to prove my point, some opinions of why Wish is a failed “outcast journey”:

Asha has a loving family, a steady and respected job and she has a whole musical number singing genuinely about how much she loves her city. Yes, she felt a disillusionment with Magnifico being cynical, selfish and mean; but, it didn’t make her an outcast. The only rejection she had was from her grandfather denying to hear his wish and even the job denial wasn’t that impactful because nearly none knew about it nor expected it from her (different from Mulan, for instance) and Asha herself had no “dream” connected to being a sorcerer, she even mentions along the movie she has no knack for magic, and the only thing we can connect to her job attempt is that she wants to grant Sabino’s wish. And it would’ve been an awesome plot mover, if they had showed why Sabino was sad without his wish (yes, “A wish worth making” deleted scene, I’m looking to you, what a precious piece of art. I almost sobbed while watching that scene!).

Her “magic intervention moment” doesn’t feel deep nor emotional either, because we don’t know what she wants, she had not enough turmoils nor conflict for us to actually cheer for her Happily Ever After.

And the worst of it all is that Disney HAD A PERFECT OUTCAST PLOT ON THEIRS HANDS! And they denied the concept art plot for reasons I still don’t quite understand! Because I’ve already read thousands of Wish fanfics that used such denied ideas, and all of them rocked because they were actual outcasts stories! Like the movie should’ve been!

The only hope I still have for the future of Disney movies is that they can look with better eyes to the original ideas theirs animators make and decide to give them the spotlight they deserve. I’m really rooting for that new Era of Disney and I know they have the capacity to make stories as great as before, if they actually listen to theirs staff and understand that while they are no longer outcasts, they can make outcast stories if they give theirs employees the creativity freedom and acceptance they deserve.

[morethanwonderful]

Rereading and really thinking about page 82/the title page after not looking at early Homestuck for a long time makes me feel unhinged. I know the page has been analyzed to death but god there really is just so much in there thematically to unpack.

From more or less the first moment that both concepts come up in Homestuck, wind and loneliness are tied together. It's partly a joke about John being melodramatic about the desolation of his empty mailbox, but it's also the core of his entire character.

John is the Heir of Breath. He's all about freedom and individuality on a symbolic level and wind on a literal level. And as we see time and again, the inherent price of his power is that achieving freedom also cuts him off from others. He's the opposite of blood and bonds. He becomes unmoored from reality and can retcon his own story, teleporting to where and whenever he pleases across the multiverse, but it comes at the cost of relocating to a new timeline where his friends have all shared a reality different than his. And that's just one example.

For John, the aspect of freedom and wind comes at the cost of isolation. Wind is the space that keeps neighbors apart.

Hell, you could even say something about the fact that it's specifically the wind in the gaps between suburban homes that brings up the imagery of desolation. On one hand, talking about loneliness alongside suburbia is an old trope, and for good reason. American suburban architecture and city planning is designed to put people in nuclear family bubbles and isolate them from their communities (and god forbid, anyone outside their immediate community). So the isolating wind in the gaps between picket fence houses is a classic image.

But also, it's really fitting for the specific sense of loneliness that John experiences.

Lots of Homestuck characters have loneliness as a major recurring theme. Even among just the beta kids, Jade's isolation is even more iconic than John's. She spends most of her life alone on an island with just her dog, and in the retcon, she spends three years alone on the ship between realities. She's constantly isolated by great gaps of physical space (heh) between her and the people she cares about.

John's isolation is different. He's never so cut off as Jade from the people he loves, but there's always some gap between them. He has a loving father that he often feels adversarial toward as a kid, and their conflict circa John's thirteenth birthday is in large part because of the harlequin misunderstanding. Dad Egbert is right there in the same house loving John, but there's a fundamental disconnect, and he fails to understand something major about his son.

Plus, we never see any mention of John having friends in his offline life. From his attitude toward himself (constant self-mockery) and the lack of any reference to him having friends that die in the apocalypse, he probably lives a pretty lonely life at school. He's a goofy nerdy insecure kid that can't connect with his peers and has to turn to faraway friends on the internet. Classic suburban isolation.

And it's the same in post-canon! John doesn't have to be cut off from his friends! He can fly and teleport and call/text them any time he wants. There's nothing subjecting him to physical isolation. All the loneliness of his depression is social and psychological. He's living on an empty suburban street—lonely while surrounded by people.

Genuinely, I don't know if there's a better image for him and his arc than the wind that blows through the gaps between cookie-cutter houses. The breeze keeping neighbors apart.

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Cerise, what a woman. I’d love to give you the image my mind inevitably created for her. I feel like she was one of those teens who carried so much trauma from her childhood, and was so so full of rage and she felt like she was destined for more, she was ashamed of being so desperate for money and luxury while having practically nothing. Leather jackets, cigarettes and small theft. I feel like she was one of those girls that wanted to have a motorbike but decided a car (a good car) would be more useful when she had big money —even though now she has a few cars and a few bikes. I also think she legally may have changed her name to Cerise, just because she wanted to be another person, she wanted to leave behind the girl she was to focus on the woman she is, no particular reason for that name, just because it’s elegant and it means cherry —a delicious fruit with a beautiful color, sexy, pretentious, vain. I also see her as a red head, probably as a part of that change she dyed her hair and got a perfectly made blowout. I don’t really have a reason for this one but maybe she wanted to leave everything behind so she completely changed her physical appearance, maybe some natural plastic surgery, training, to fit that image she had of an elegant woman. I see her wearing elegant outfits even to go to the grocery store to buy some bread and vegetables. Always a good nude (lily rose depp like) or red lipstick combo and a skin care and shower routine that lasts an hour every morning, just because. Lashes, eyebrows and nails always perfectly done. But internally, she still feels like she wants more, she deserves more, she’s ambitious, has little morals and maybe also is very cold and lacks empathy in some situations. She has lived many lives and will live as many as she had to, as a good survivor, that doesn’t mean she isn’t scared, but she will not hesitate to do anything if that ensures her own survival.

Honestly i’d love if you could give me some outfit inspo because i’d love to try and draw her, maybe i could include soap too. What do you think? Was i accurate? Please correct me if you think anything I said was wrong. I adore your writing, what a blessing to be able to read you every time. This story will stay with me, it destroyed the inspo block I’ve had for months. Thank you x.

AHH - this is so amazing, I love it. Some outfit inspo will be under the cut but I totally want to discuss characterization too because I love what you've brought up. And, omg, 100% - absolutely you can try to draw Cerise and Soap, I'm frothing at the mouth for them already.

Okay, characterization first (ultimately it's up to every reader how they characterize her, so don't take anything I say as law by any means, lol, but these are my own thoughts for her)! I agree with most of what you said! Cerise is totally burdened by her childhood and the trauma that follows it; she even explains that with her first encounter with pickpocketing her wrist literally got snapped back in two places.

She was never wealthy - never had money for anything to buy simply for the want to have it. She would see people with everything in the palm of their hand and become incredibly jealous/bitter at the fact that nothing she did would ever make any difference unless it was drastic.

Cerise 100% always keeps up appearances, she never wants to be perceived as anything other than beautiful or desirable, even if, deep down, she's utterly terrified that someone would get to know her on a personal level. She always flirts and talks so big about physical intimacy, but I think that it scares her just as much. Anything that can get a person close to her is like a threat and a danger to the empire she's built.

Ultimately, Cerise is a character who likes being alone because it's all that makes her feel safe, even if she's incredibly lonely. She openly admits she's vain and prideful, but I believe it stems from her own insecurities - she's a total dichotomy and a hypocrite of her own belief system.

She's prideful = she constantly needs herself to become better/do better

She's vain = she hates looking at herself in the mirror but still constantly does it

She's selfish = she openly talks about helping a man's wife when she required medical care

She's such a compelling character to me because she's utterly broken down and traumatized and she doesn't even realize it. She goes on about what she wants and deserves when the only thing she wants is to be loved and cared for like a human being. She's been so used in her life that everything has become a game of get-or-be-got.

Cerise is genuinely one of my favorite named reader-inserts I've ever created - it was so much fun writing her.

Okay, okay, ramble over - onto some inspo!!

I mentioned that Oxblood was her signature color in the fic, so just imagine these in that shade/hue/etc. Disregard skin color as well, this is just about the outfits!

I think these would fit what I had in mind - simple, elegant, but still has some personality to it!

If people envisioned something more out there/eye drawing we have these dresses-

Personally, I very much like the first of the eye-catching dresses, Cerise is a woman who likes a little flare - the sleeves are lovely and I like the corset add-on.

For jewelry, it's very much high-mass, Cerise was mentioned already wearing necklaces, earrings, etc. Many of which had gems, rocks, and fine metals. I'll leave that up to people's personal preference!

But I think that mostly covers Cerise, for Johnny I really just thought up a normal 3-piece suit except for the fact that he barely fit into it, lol.

But thank you so much for sending this in! It was so lovely. If you do end up drawing them, I would love to see it - I'm sure it'll be amazing!!

[ananxiousgenz]

SONG FOR A CAGED LOVEBIRD: A TPP HADESTOWN AU

PART 8

so this one isn't in sequential order BUT it's important context that helps explain the twist at the end of part 7 and also some other things that will come up again later :)

HEY CREW IT'S FUN TIME @smidgen-of-hotboy @ceaseless-watchers-special-girl @urjover @one-joe-spoopy @waters-and-the-wilde @demonic-panini

“Hey, Mista Steel?”

“Yes, Rita?”

“I got a question for ya.”

It was closing time at the bar, the last few customers finally beginning to trickle out into the arctic night air, and Juno and Rita were cleaning up empty glasses, stacking chairs, and wiping down tables. Buddy had come down from her room to “supervise” them, doing what was also known as “having her nightly shots of whisky”, and Peter was sitting with her.

“Shoot, Rita.”

“But I can’t shoot, Mista Steel! I ain’t got a gun!”’

Juno sighed heavily. “I know, Rita, it’s a figure of- nevermind. Ask your question.”

Rita swiped shot glasses off the surface of a table that had recently housed some particularly drunk travelers. “Where did that song come from?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You know!! The song!! The pretty one you sing and make the flowers and stuff show up! Where did it come from?”

“I-” Juno paused mid-lifting a chair. “You know, I’m not really sure. It feels so familiar, like I’ve heard it before, but I’m not sure from where. I just came up with it, I guess.”

“Oh, but you have heard it before, darling. Have you ever heard the story of Hades and Persephone?” Buddy called, finishing one of the several shots lined up before her.

“Hades and Persephone? Like the gods?” Peter asked, his brow lightly scrunched in thought. “I thought that was nothing more than an old fairytale.”

“Exactly so, Pete. But sometimes fairytales can hold valuable information regarding one’s current situation.” Buddy slid a shot across the counter to Peter, who caught it expertly. “I told you their story once a while back, Juno, dear. Why don’t you recite it to us?”

“Uhhhhhh……” Juno had all the eagerness of a deer with a gun at its neck. “Can I say no?”

Buddy sighed dramatically before taking another shot. “I suppose I cannot force you. Very well then. If Juno will not tell it, then it appears I must take matters into my own hands. Gather round, children. It’s time for a story.”

Rita stopped working and happily trotted over to Buddy’s chair, taking a seat on the floor as eagerly as ever, and Juno slowly and reluctantly made his way over behind her. Buddy tended to tell stories about the old times, stories of gods and heros and monsters, almost like she had actually been there. She hadn’t, of course. But she excelled in acting like she had. 

“Now. Once upon a time, there was a god who was the king of the Underworld. His name was Hades, and he lived in Hadestown, way down under the ground, where the air is hot and the souls are many. Whether the town was named after him or he was named after the town is a fact that has been lost to history, my dear, but that is besides the point.

“He was rather lonely, this king, despite all his glorious wealth and all the souls living in the underworld. So, he made the decision to look for a wife. He went up to the surface to find the other gods and discuss his plan with them, but as soon as he made it up, he saw her there. Dancing in her mother’s garden in the sunlight and fresh air. The most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Her name was Persephone, darlings, the goddess of spring and rebirth.

“He saw her standing there, alone against the great blue sky, and was overcome with a feeling he had never known before: he was in love.” At this, Juno and Peter, who had been holding hands beneath the table gave each other a look, and Juno squeezed Peter’s hand tightly.

Buddy continued: “He spoke with her a while and convinced her to come home with him and be his wife. Persephone’s mother threw a fit, of course, but we can never rely on the opinions of our parents to be the correct ones. They were married and lived quite happily after that, with the exception of Persephone having to spend six months away from Hades to ensure a successful spring and summer back on the surface. It was believed that this cycle between them is what created the seasons and the rhythm of the earth.

“The point of the matter is this, Juno dear: the song you sing to bring the flowers back now is the same song Hades sang for Persephone at their wedding, the same song they both sang to keep the rest of the world in harmony. At least in the version I’ve been told.”

Juno looked suddenly thoughtful, chewing on his lower lip. “Ohhhhhhh. So that’s why it can do all of that stuff. It was already connected to the seasons even before I-”

“WAITAMINUTE!” Rita cried, nearly bursting in her excitement. “If those old gods ‘n stuff really made the seasons happen, then why did they stop? What happened to Persephone? Is she okay? ARE WE GONNA HAVE TO GO ON A HEIST TO SAVE HER??”

Buddy chuckled warmly and shook her head. “No, I’m afraid not, Rita dear. You see, Persephone doesn’t exist anymore.”

“‘Doesn’t exist anymore’? Whatever do you mean, Ms. Aurinko?” Peter asked, tilting a head.

Buddy raised an flaming red eyebrow and tossed some of her long hair over her shoulder. “I believe I told you to stop calling me Ms. Aurinko and start calling me Buddy.”

“My mistake. It’s a force of habit Ms.- Buddy.”

She smiled then, all neat white teeth and gentle affection. “Thank you, Pete. And to answer your question, I mean to say that the original Persephone is dead. Has been for centuries.”

“She’s- she’s- she’s dead?” Rita whispered, eyes wide and brimming with tears. “Whatdaya mean she’s dead, Ms. A? She can’t be dead! That means spring is neva comin’ back eva again and we’re all gonna die and-”

“No, no, no, Rita dear. I said Persephone was dead. I never said the goddess was dead. You see, the gods, as much as they would like to be, are not entirely immortal. Sometimes, they get into situations where they die, whether by man or by each other, and their positions in the pantheon are left open. Those gods will then be reincarnated with new names, and allowed to resume their place in the pantheon. The original Hades and Persephone died quite some time ago and have reportedly had a few reincarnations since then. It seems that perhaps the reason the seasons are so wrong now is because something has happened to Persephone’s reincarnation.”

An uneasy silence fell over the table. It wasn’t hard to put the pieces together and figure out that whatever had happened was clearly very, very bad for the world to be in the state it was. Maybe they were stuck somewhere. Maybe being held captive. Maybe even actually dead, with no reincarnation to follow. The gruesome possibilities were endless.

“Well. I must say, that was a cheerful note to end the evening on. Let’s liven up the mood in here a bit, shall we?” Buddy said, shattering the silence and standing from her seat. “Finish the rest of these shots for me, darlings. And then, Juno, would you be a doll and play us a tune on the piano? I feel a bit like dancing tonight.”

Juno grinned. It was going to be a long night.

[barbex]

Happy DADWC! Could you write a scene with “I’m better when I’m with you” between whatever pairing you wish to write? :)

Catching up with the backlog tonight for @dadrunkwriting.

Thank you for this prompt! I made it fenders again, I'm predictable like that, and I managed to keep it under 2000 words, just barely. Go, me!

---

Anders steps out of his cabin. Not quite his cabin, he's been assigned to live here, in the line of sight of the guardhouse in front of the gate. It's not quite freedom, but it's better than a dungeon or the Circle. Varric made that possible. As viscount, he ordered Anders to be under watch but not locked up. 

He should be grateful. He is, of course, he gets to see the sun set over the sea and watch it rise again in the morning; he has a garden to tend to where he grows elfroot and other medicinal plants. People leave him alone for the most part, the guards even protected him a few times from angry citizens, who wanted to hang him on the next best tree for his crime. Lucky for him, there's few trees this close to the coast tall and sturdy enough to hold his weight. He probably owes the protection to the fact he healed one of the guards when he stepped on a rusty nail, and that the other officer is Donnic.

It still surprises him that he has friends from the time before. Before he removed himself from everyone, pushing them away to protect them. Justice had been his only friend, but now he's gone. Anders still doesn't know how it happened, but when Meredith died, burning up from inside from the poisoned lyrium, they both felt the pull of the Fade and Justice followed it. There wasn't even time to bid him farewell.

He is alone now, but that's how it should be. He was supposed to die; he expected Hawke to kill him, and what could be more lonely than death? But Hawke let him live. It's only fitting that he is now alone, not burdening anybody. 

In truth, he isn't always alone, Donnic visits him for tea and brings him books, Merrill visits him, telling him about her projects in the alienage or brings him new patients. Even Varric comes around occasionally, and a few people leave the city to find their way to him and ask him for healing. The desperate ones, or old friends who knew him in Darktown.

The afternoon sun hangs low in the sky, soon the first autumn storms will begin, and Anders gathers firewood in his arms to carry into the cabin. He isn't surprised when he hears footsteps coming up the path behind him, Donnic often comes over around this time. He turns to greet him and the firewood falls from his arms.

It's Fenris. 

He hasn't seen Fenris in more than a year, not since he sailed away with Isabela and Hawke. He should say something, anything really, instead of gaping at him with a piece of wood in his hand. But before he can find his words, Fenris frowns and turns around, stomping away, further along the path towards the city gate.

A little while later, Donnic knocks on his door. "Hello, bet you can't guess who I've just met."

Anders piles logs into the nook under the fireplace. He turns to grin at Donnic. "I would win that bet and that wouldn't be fair. I saw Fenris too."

"Damn, I thought I would win for sure."

"Win what?" Anders laughs. "Firewood? Elfroot? I don't have much to offer."

Donnic settles down on a chair and pours himself some tea. "It would have been symbolic. Did he talk to you?"

"No, he just glared at me." Anders pours himself some tea and sits down at the table. "Pretty sure he didn't expect to see me alive and is now on his way to Varric to complain about that."

Donnic chuckles at that. "You're thinking too bad of him."

"No, I think I'm just realistic, but it doesn't matter, anyway." Anders stretches his arms and looks up at the low ceiling. There's a burn mark from when an experiment went wrong. "If he comes back to kill me, there's nothing anybody can do."

"Don't say that, he won't kill you." 

Leaning forward, Anders fixes Donnic in his gaze. "Just promise me you won't get in his way. He's too powerful, don't risk your life by fighting him." 

"Now, wait a minute —"

"Promise me."

Frowning, Donnic studies his face as if to make sure that Anders is serious. "Fine. I promise."

"Thank you." He lifts the lid to check the can. "More tea? I can make some more."

"I'm good, thanks." Donnic drains the rest of his cup. It clinks when he puts it back on its saucer. Such a luxury, cups with saucers. He never had that before in his life.

For days, nothing significant happens. Fenris doesn't show up, Donnic hasn't seen him either, and neither has Merrill, which is not surprising. But she heard about him being in Kirkwall. It's maddening to know that he's there, inside of the walls, so close, but still as far away as Seheron. Anders is not allowed to go into the city. 

One day, Anders has finished all his tasks for today and settles down with the book that Varric sent him, there's a knock on his door.

"Come in, is it an emergency?"

The door opens. "It is not."

Anders sits up and nearly drops his book. He would recognize this voice anywhere. "Fenris." He closes the book, putting it on the table at his side. No need to get bloodstains on it. He even pulls the bookmark out, he won't need to know his place in the story anymore. Waiting, he looks at Fenris, steeling his heart against his anger. Fenris has every right to be angry, it's expected, but it's entirely unfair that he still looks so beautiful, even with his face half hidden under a hooded coat. 

After what feels like hours, Fenris still hasn't said anything and Anders bites his tongue to stop himself from filling the silence with chatter. He used to do that, all the time, but he tries to listen more and chatter less. 

"Anything I can do for you? Would you like some tea? Merrill brings me all sorts of teas and —" Glowing eyes under a deep frown turn to him and he snaps his mouth shut. Less chatter. It's a work in progress.

At last, Fenris speaks, his deep voice filling the tiny room. "Why are you here?"

"Me?" Anders looks around. The cabin is barely large enough to fit the bed and the table with two chairs. "I live here. What are you doing here? You came across a lonely shed and thought to check if a mage hides inside?" He grins, it feels like old times, banter, jokes, but another look at Fenris sobers him up quickly. Fenris is not here to make jokes. Anders wipes his hands on his shirt and gets up. "We should go outside." 

Fenris steps out first, just because there isn't enough room for letting Anders go past him inside the cabin. "Do you want to look at the sunset?"

"It's poetic, isn't it?" Anders turns his face towards the setting sun, blinking against the light. 

"You always enjoyed watching the sunset."

Anders looks at Fenris in disbelief. "I had no idea you noticed that." 

"We were intimate," Fenris says, his voice halting on that last word. 

Smiling to himself, Anders nods. "Yes, I have not forgotten. Doesn't mean you had to notice things about me."

"It is difficult not to notice you."

Anders avoids looking at Fenris, at reading anything into the things he says. They kissed, they had sex, they almost had something like a relationship, where they would drink tea together in the morning and talk. That didn't happen, but it almost did. He stayed the night, once. Just once, before he realised he brought danger to anyone who knew him. 

A dead man shouldn't have friends.

The sun turns a dark red as it touches the horizon. He lets out a long breath, calming his nervous heart. "Why are you here?"

"I thought you were dead." Fenris lets the hood of his coat fall back and closes his eyes. Anders can shamelessly look at him, at his beautiful face, glowing in the light from the red sun, watching his lips as he speaks. "I thought if I wandered enough, if I saw enough places, I would find what I was missing. But I did not."

"What were you looking for?"

Fenris opens his eyes, pinning Anders in his gaze. "With you, I was better, I felt better. I felt complete. I was searching for that." 

Anders' knees buckle, he grabs for something to hold on to as he sways. Fenris takes his arm, steadying him. "You're not here to kill me?"

"Why would I want that?" Fenris' hand tightens around his arm, painfully. 

"Many people want me dead. It would be just." Anders stares at Fenris' hand on his arm, the familiar sharp-tipped gauntlets pressing into his skin. "All of this is temporary, I'm well aware. If Varric gets called away or someone else becomes viscount..."

Fenris notices his gauntlets shredding Anders' shirt and pulls his hand away. "I apologise."

"It's no problem." Anders rubs over his arm, missing Fenris' touch. 

"Can you accept I do not want you dead?"

Anders lets out a helpless laugh. "At the very least, you should hate me." 

"I do not." Fenris opens the buckles of his gauntlets and pulls them off. "I thought I did at first. I was confused and angry, I felt abandoned. You... the way you turned away from all of us, from me..."

"It was safer that way." Anders hardens his expression and turns back to the cabin. "I don't ask for your forgiveness. I don't expect you to understand, but —"

"But I do." Fenris' gauntlets clatter to the ground. "I do understand." 

Anders turns back to him, a shadow against the last rays of sunlight, his face hidden. "What does this mean?"

With quick steps, Fenris closes the distance, takes his face in his hands, and kisses him. 

After a second, Anders' brain catches up. Fenris. Kissing. Wrapping his arms around the elf, he can't suppress a whimper, and kisses him back like his life depends on it. 

Lingering on his lips, Fenris breathes in. "I've missed you. I tried to ignore it, but with every mile the ship put between us and Kirkwall, I missed you more. I just did not understand, at first." 

Anders leans back to look into Fenris' eyes. "You missed me?" 

A smile lingers on Fenris' lips. "Is that so hard to believe?"

"I do not... I didn't dare..." Anders tries to breathe, but his chest hurts. "Someone like me can never..." He tries to step away, but strong arms pull him back, hugging him tight and he finally lets the tension fall from his shoulders and buries his face in Fenris' neck. "You're here, for me."

"Yes, mage." Fenris cards his finger into Anders' hair and holds his head. "Stop hating yourself."

"I don't know if I can," Anders says. Something shatters inside of him and he can't help but cry, making Fenris' shirt wet. 

"Anders." Fenris' voice is incredibly gentle. "Can we go inside?"

Wiping his face, Anders nods, leading him inside. 

He cries some more as they sit on Anders' bed. Fenris holds his hand and he keeps staring at it, not quite believing his eyes. They fall asleep like that, Fenris holding his hand, Anders' head tucked under Fenris' chin. In the morning, they will have tea together, like people in a relationship do. Anders still won't quite believe it.

[girl4music]

“No one is birthed into the world complete and we don’t cross a line somewhere in our 20’s to find that we’ve arrived at adult. We shape ourselves into the people we are by making choices or circumstances will do the shaping for us. Which brings us to Willow…

This episode is a significant one for the Rosenberg and I realized watching it that I’ve suffered something of a Mandela Effect when it comes to her. Specifically I’ve been misremembering the very first episode where Willow’s eyes turn black upon casting a spell. In ‘Becoming Part I’ after Giles tells Willow that casting a soul restoration spell might open a door she’d be unable to close. She insisted. But his warning implies that casting magic potentially leaves an indelible mark on the caster and while being watched by Cordy and Oz something channelled through her and I was sure that she looked up, looked forward and had black eyes during the remainder of the spell - but no. Still, the door was open, and in Willow’s case what that has meant so far is magic becoming her number one coping mechanism. Magic has been a metaphor for a few things, but one of it’s analogues set up early on by Giles’ abuse of it to get high in ‘The Dark Age’, was drugs. A metaphorical connection between magic and alcohol was made in ‘Something Blue’ when Willow first tried to deal with her grief over Oz by way of a sick bud-light dance party. She has resorted to magic to cope with her lust, to cope with her anger, to cope with her grief,… and in ‘Tough Love’, her rage.

Historically there has usually been a scene afterwards where she suffers guilt for the spell’s misfire and bakes a round of apology cookies, but the episode always stops just short of her learning the actual lesson. Her regret is never specifically for the use of magic to solve her problem, but for the fact that she wasn’t capable enough to pull the spell off the way she wanted to and everyone tends to let it slide. On to the next episode. Heck, Buffy said more to Jonathan in ‘Superstar’ than she has ever said to Willow… because Willow is just… in pain, angry, lonely, lost. That’s all. It’s a familiar pattern with abuse-based coping mechanisms given there always tends to be a lot going on for that person. Big things that their friends and family members see as what actually drove their loved ones to this and that big thing feels more important right now than confronting their loved one about their little problem. Now is not the time, now is never the time and then time slips past.

But Willow has continued to become more powerful with every passing season and in ‘Tough Love’ her breaking into the Magic Box and channelling actual black magic I think represents a turning point. This is the first time her eyes actually turn black and if every spell leaves an indelible mark upon the caster, there is something in her now that she will always have to carry. But in keeping with Willow learning the wrong lesson or none whatsoever, the final scene in the episode follows the pattern we’ve seen to this point. Scoobies feeling bad for what Willow must be going through, conversations about consequences not being had and Willow feeling defeated and depressed. If the pattern fits not just because of Tara’s state, but because Willow wasn’t strong enough to wield the necessary power to properly take her revenge. Wasn’t strong enough,.. yet.”

Once again, nice job, Ian. Hit some points that I’ve never really thought about myself as you often do.

About your comment on the final scene of the episode being confusing because of the location they’re in.

Tara has not officially moved in with Willow. Yes, she stays in Willow’s room more often than not (hence the double bed replacing the two singles since ‘The Replacement’) and because of the traumatic events of ‘Family’ where her abusive dad just let himself in when it was unlocked, making it unsafe for Tara to be there alone, but they don’t officially live together. Willow still has her dorm room and Tara still has hers. So the room you see them in at the end of the episode is Tara’s dorm room, not Willow’s or Buffy’s.