#this could have been such a good thing but they did it so badly that they killed any chance of it being done right

[bernardsbendystraws]

𝐂𝐔𝐓𝐄 𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐒 — 𝐂.𝐒.

Synopsis: Nick has been your best friend for so long, but you can’t seem to get a long with his brother—Chris. You try to mess with Chris and it backfires….badly….

Warnings: illegal street racing, stupid driving, tension, smut with so much plot it hurts, street racer Chris, BIG MASSIVE SHLONG CHRIS, size kink, bulge kink, dick-wad Chris, p n v, raw sex, riding (wink), and more....

A/N: THIS IS OVER 5.2K WORDS. THIS IS NAWT A QUICK READ. Now, get in the car bitches, we're getting HORNYYYYYY!!!!

With love and bigs tits, Rose

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“Hey, cute jeans!” I wave, my lips curling into a grin as I squint my eyes at him—Chris. He rolls his tongue, shaking his head as he stalks off further down the street. Ha. 

It’s one of those rare occurrences—I’m here—at his street race, for god knows what reason. 

All I ever do is mock him. In fact, that’s why I call him cute jeans. The first time Nick and I had shown up at one of these dumb things, Chris thought I was a stranger from behind—and my jeans? Damn. 

He had to be a real asshole and hit on me. 

That night was fun for more than one reason. It sparked something—something I didn’t know existed. 

After that, my teasing only got worse. Chris’s ego couldn’t handle staying silent, he always had something smart to say. 

“Come to watch me again, huh? Gonna record it for later, I bet,” Chris winks. My mouth snaps shut as I go to say something back. He’s already gone—not giving me a second to respond before shutting the door to his car and speeding down the road. 

Typical. 

It’s still bright out. The sun sinks lower into the horizon as more people crowd the deserted street by the minute. 

“Okay, let’s just take a couple more pics and then we’ll go. I know you hate this,” Nick huffs, adjusting the leather jacket he’s wearing—the same coat that inspired this whole photoshoot. But you couldn’t blame him, he did look hot as fuck. 

Even if his looks resemble a certain idiot lurking nearby. 

Part of me is burning with spite. I hate letting Chris have the last word. But my brain sparks with an idea, a brilliant idea. 

How much would it cost him if I stayed around? 

Those stupid bets were always placed in his favor. No one could deny he was good—really good. He drove on the street like he owned it and he never even seemed nervous. 

“I kinda wanna stay—” My words are interrupted as I feel an arm rest down on my shoulders. I look over to see Beck, a girl I love seeing. 

She’s vibrant—especially with her signature red lip that seemed to draw all eyes to her. I always blossom off her confidence, loving to sit next to her when she showed true female power all with one swing of that stupid flag in the air. 

“How are ya, girlie? Haven’t seen you in months,” she puffs, hugging me a little bit closer before dropping her arm back to her side. 

I smile over at her. “Pretty good, you still stomping on egos?” I question, the glint of mischief in her eyes reflecting back as she gives me a slow nod. 

“Oh, always. Especially Chris—and it’s just for you.” She boops my nose as her words drag through the wind, the sound of tires screeching starting to muffle the chaotic hum of the crowd forming. 

Nick stares down at the camera lens, scrolling through the pictures I had taken of him—the reason why we were here, pretty much. “Actually, I think we got enough. But are you sure you wanna stay? I can come back and get you later—”

Beck brushes on Nick’s shoulder. She scrunches her nose at me while licking over her teeth. “I got her, Nick. Go home and post those pics, I’ll return her to you safely after tonight, don’t worry.” 

“Alright…” Nick sighs, reluctantly hugging me and wandering back towards his car to head home. 

“So why’d you wanna stay? Finally like cars?” Beck interrogates. 

I shake my head vigorously, laughing as she smiles at me. “Fuck no, I just—”

“You’re gonna mess with him, aren’t you?”

Her question rings through the air as a speeding car flies by—racers already warming up.

My eyes trace towards the track, seeing a sleek red sports car in the distance doing donuts. Of fucking course. Chris was always doing some dumb shit—illegal street racing or doing fucking donuts while the other racers were repeatedly drifting around the corners or fixing up their cars. 

He’s so cocky. 

I whisper back to her as I watch his car tires mark the pavement. “Damn right.”

___

Chris is already fed up—I can tell by the way his jaw clicks and his nostrils flare when I catch him in the corner of my eye. 

And I’m looking directly at him, a stupid smile covering my face as I put my money on the bet table. It’s twenty bucks, but it was twenty bucks I was willing to spend, or rather waste. Chris hasn’t lost in a while—honestly I’m not sure if he ever has. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Chris huffs, pulling me by the arm as he drags me to the side of the road by his car. 

He roughly shoves me. The feeling of his car pressed up against my backside leaves my eyes twinkling with pride—I’m really getting to him. Just like I planned.

I shrug. “Just placing my bets. Isn’t that what everyone does at these—”

“Why are you here? Why’re you–,” as his eyes stare into mine, his rough tone falls silent, his scowl curling into a smirk as he analyzes the subtle twitch of my nose. “Huh—just comin’ to watch, right?” 

I nod to his question, my pride sinking to my feet as I try to stand up tall. Chris presses his body against mine, making my weight lean against the car once more. I swallow thickly as his hand drops from my arm. 

What is he doing?

“You know, I meant it, right?” he tuts, his eyes tracing your figure with no shame. “These jeans… baby, they look so good on you.” His voice gets deeper, his head falling forward as his lips graze my ear. “-bet they’d look better off though, hm?”  

Fuck. 

I wish it didn’t make something inside the pit of my gut burn—but it did. God, it really fucking did. My heart is hammering against my chest, the pulse in my neck pounding in my ears as slight butterflies in my stomach make it harder to breathe. 

Shoving my body quickly, I manage to escape his hold. “Shut up. You’re such a cocky prick,” I spit, my arms folding across my chest as I try to keep a stern expression. 

Chris lets out a dry laugh, grinning like he’s already won. He takes a couple steps forward, letting his hand travel into the ends of my hair, “And yet, you love it. I can practically hear how nervous I’m makin’ you, it’s a real ego boost,” he husks. 

“You don’t make me—” My lips fall open further, motionless as his hand moves to my neck, his cold fingers brushing against my pulse as my eyes go wide. 

“Not nervous, huh…” His head leans towards the side as he stares all over my face. His eyes linger on my lips as I try to look away. 

But it’s impossible. Chris swerves his head, not letting my eyes leave his as he just stares at me. 

“Chris, stop—”

“Why? Do I make you too nervous?” he urges, licking over his teeth and letting his hands drop down to his sides. 

I feel a wave of heat caress up my spine and over my shoulders. “Don’t you have some stupid race to lose?” 

The taunt seems humorous to him, the last resolve of my dignity peeking through mumbled words as he wipes over his mouth. 

“Alright, alright. Guess I’ll go try to lose, but—I might need your help.” He shrugs, walking off with a wink. 

Uh oh. 

Help?

___

I can’t tell what the fuck is going through his brain. Part of me regrets staying—but another part of me is sickly invested in whatever this twisted game is. 

Nearly all bets had been placed. Stacks of money rested on the plastic table with a heavy bais—most were betting on Chris. 

It had to be at least two grand. 

He wouldn’t give up two grand for some petty argument with me, right? No—that would be insane. Absolutely bonkers. 

…right?

I watch as Beck stands in the middle of the dark street, the only glow coming from the blue streetlights above. The sun had set quickly, the stars and moon doing nothing compared to the headlights from all the cars.

My legs hurt. I didn’t realize I had been clenching every muscle for the entirety of the countdown to the actual race. The cold bleachers sting against my skin in the night air—maybe I would’ve dressed warmer if I thought I was gonna stay. But no—I was stuck shivering in jeans, a purple lace bra peeking from under my black top, and a letterman jacket. 

The front row gave the best view, but I had no one to shield the bitter breeze. But it was worth it. This way I got to sit by Beck the entire time. 

“Racers ready?” she shouts, her voice prominent over the reviving engines as she holds the flag in the air. 

Chris is on the side closer to me, his boyish smile apparent as I stare at the side of his face. The other guy was one of the better ones—the bets had some sort of hope in him, a large stack of bills showing that he had a decent amount of skill. 

My mouth waters as I see Chris run a hand through his hair, his head turning and his eyes catching mine. Holy fuck. He looks absolutely dreamy—there’s not an ounce of anxiety, pure confidence radiating from him. 

And it makes it so hard to look away. 

“Wait, I got one more bet I gotta place,” Chris announces. 

What?

My brows furrow, my face scrunching as I watch Beck relax the flag back down to her side. “Make it quick.” 

Chris nods at her words, my stomach flutters as he stares directly back at me, leaning his head out his window while licking over his lips. “Wanna make a bet, sweetheart?” he asks. 

I look around me, my shoulder sinking slightly as I take in the amount of people staring at me. 

He’s holding up the race to embarass me. Fuck. 

As I stare back at him with squinted eyes, he clicks his tongue on the side of his mouth. “If I win, I get to take you for a drive. Deal?”

“What?” I exclaim, throwing my hand in the air as I motion to the bet table, “Why the hell would I agree to that—”

“You bet against me, remember?” he points. 

My lips smack shut, the lump in my throat gathering thicker as I try to swallow. “I’ll even give you the chance to make sure I lose a round. We gotta bet or not?” he questions, his eyes twinkling as the blue lights illuminate his sharp features.  

If he had to lose one of the three rounds, that put more hope into the other racer. And if the other race won, I’d be more than content. Getting to call him a loser would definitely irk him more than anything—especially if it was true.

I hear boos chant around me. “Hurry up and race!” someone says from behind me. 

My body stiffens as I hear the chorus of disapproval. “Deal!” I shout, biting on my inner cheek. 

Chris looks at me with a daunting grin, his hand squeezing on the wheel as he nods. “A’right—ready. Sorry for the hold up.” 

Beck rolls her eyes, holding up the flag once more. 

“Racers ready?” she glares at Chris, continuing on as he revs his engine in response, “3—2—-1, GO—”

My heart drops as I watch the smoke from the tires scratching the street float around Beck. She saunters over, settling beside me as I lean forward, my pulse pounding in my ears as I watch them race side-by-side. 

As the car rounds the corner and starts nearing the finish line, Chris’s car zooms just slightly in front of the other vehicle, only seconds of a difference. 

I can’t wait to call him a fuckin loser. 

Beck walks back out, the flag raising in the air as both cars position once again. “Alright, race two. Ready, set—” 

“Hey!” 

Stomping her heels on the pavement, Beck scowls at Chris as he shouts towards my direction. I look over, my face burning as I feel the crowd stare down at me. 

I didn’t know much about racing, but I knew enough. This wasn’t normal—this was the prime way to piss people off. 

As I go to ask what he wants, Chris curls his finger, motioning for me to come closer. 

The fuck? 

I hesitantly stand up, my arms wrapped tightly around my torso as I walk up to his car window. Chris stares up at me with devious eyes. He obnoxiously chews a piece of gum, his jaw bone protruding with each movement. 

“What the fuck do you want?!” I whisper-yell, catching angry eyes boring onto me as I take a quick glance over my shoulder. 

Oh, these people are mad—fucking furious, even. 

“Kiss me.” 

I do a double take, my eyes blinky slowly as I watch him lick over the bottom ridges of his teeth, his fingers tapping on the steering wheel. 

“What?” I breathe out, a dry laugh heaving from my lips. 

He can’t be serious…

“However long you kiss me is however long I’ll wait to start drivin’. Didn’t you want me to lose? C’mon pretty girl, you saw the bet table—use your head, alright? It’s just a kiss,” he taunts.

This is how he was gonna give me the chance to make him lose a round—I should’ve known. 

I shake my head, cringing as I hear the boo’s from the crowd get louder. 

“I’m startin’,” Beck says, holding up the flag. “3—”

“Yes or no? It’s up to you,” he shrugs, his eyes drawing over my face as my lips smack open and shut. 

“2—”

The noise of his engine revving makes my anxiety settle. This is my chance—my only chance at that. 

“Fuck it,” I murmur, taking a long stride towards him. 

“1—GO!” 

I crash my lips onto his, my hands on either side of his jaw. His lips meet mine with a hard urgency, the rhythm of my movement panicked and rushed. 

My breath hitches in my chest—I don’t know if it’s because I forgot to breathe or if it’s from the feeling of his hand traveling up and tangling around the back of my neck, pulling me impossibly closer as he slips his warm tongue into my mouth. 

I nearly forget everything, gasping for air as I pull back quickly, moaning as I feel his mouth hungrily chase mine. 

Never in my life had I been kissed like this—so passionately and rough. 

“Hey! This gotta be breakin’ some rules–”

Fuck. 

The person yelling from the crow makes me pull back into reality. I stand up, watching as Chris slowly flutters his eyes open at me with a grin so cocky my hand twitches with the urge to slap him. 

Why did that feel so… good? 

Before anyone can say a thing, the other car slowly halts back to the starting line. 

Had we really been kissing that long? 

My fingers mindlessly float up to my tingling lips, my head feeling lighter as the surroundings start to spin a bit. It’s like he put some drug in his mouth that immediately became addicting. I want more. 

“See? I kept my word,” Chris points out, “Now—you gonna keep your word if I win? Lemme take you for a drive?” I swallow thickly, nodding slowly. “Good. Now go sit down and cheer for me real loud, alright?” 

I don’t have time to respond before Beck interrupts with the same question, starting to count down. I quickly stumble back towards the bleachers, a sigh of relief pushing through my lips as my head bobbles between my shoulders while I sit down. 

The loud cars barely register in my brain. All I can focus on is how light everything feels, how my lips are swollen and pulsing. 

“C’MON!!!” 

Chants behind me draw my attention back to the road. What the fuck? It’s not even close—Chris is speeding around the corners way smoother than the first round, almost as if he had been—

Oh fuck.

He was holding back. 

I tried to mess with him and he played me with ease. 

Part of me should be mad as he races near the finish line—but all I feel is excitement—anticipation. 

My teeth clench into my lower lip as I watch him storm past the line, not even waiting for the other racer to finish before stepping out of his car and walking over. 

Is he…?

My eyes bulge as he walks in front of me, holding his hand out as an offer. “C’mon, you promised, yeah?” he urges. 

I nod slowly, sliding my hand in his. He drags me to his car, opening the passenger door and shutting it after I climb in. 

“Chris! The money—”

Beck’s words fall on deaf ears as Chris slides into the driver seat, pressing his foot on the gas hard. 

“You didn’t even get the money—what’re we doing?” I ask, looking behind my shoulder to see a crowd of people turned to our direction as we speed off further down the road. 

“You know, it’s not nice to try and tick me off,” he huffs, quickly glancing at me with a harsh stare. 

Oh.

Oh.

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ abou–”

Chris lets out a vocal sound of disbelief, cutting me off, “Yeah, you do. Fuckin—bettin’ against me, tryna get me to lose and shit. For what? Don’t have a boyfriend to give you any attention, huh?” he asks, his hand reaching over and grasping onto my thigh. 

He knows I don’t have a boyfriend—I know he’s aware of that fact. 

I stare down at his large hand squeezing my jean-clad leg. Something about his rough grip makes me shift in my seat, my thighs clutching together as I feel a wave of warmth settle into the pit of my stomach. 

“You like my hand on your thigh, don’t you?” he says, smirking wider as I watch the blue streetlights cast a subtle glow on his cheekbones. 

“I—”

“You like it. Admit it.” 

There’s no room to argue as he trails his hand up further, his fingers tracing dangerously high as he gives me a rough squeeze. Fuck his hands feel good on me. 

“Chris what’re you—”

“Do you know how it feels to constantly see you and know I can’t touch you?” he starts, the car rolling to a stop by the side of the road as he rushedly shifts gears to park, “-you’re always fuckin’ teasin’ me—bein’ a damn brat and I have to keep my hands to myself,” he grits, shaking his head as he stares down at me. 

I swallow thickly as I shift in the seat. “Chris, I–”

“No. None of that bullshit. You’re always tauntin’ me. Why’d you stay, hm? Why?” he questions, his tongue clicking on the roof of his mouth as his eyes deepen with intensity and dominance. 

Silence. I can’t fathom any words to say, my pulse drumming quicker as Chris pats his lap, adjusting his chair back. 

“Over here. Now.” 

“Chris, what are we doing?” I ask, hesitantly starting to climb over the center console. 

His hands wrap around the underside of my thighs, pulling me quickly while I let out a slight yelp as he sits me down in his lap. His hands are firm on either side of my hips. “I’m done playin’ these stupid fuckin’ games. I just—” 

The air is quiet. His eyes fall to my lips, his hands grasping just a little bit tighter around me. I can still feel the lingering sensation from his lips on mine earlier, the slight tingle still buzzing on the soft muscle as I let myself lean in closer. 

“We should stop,” Chris breathes, his tongue sliding between his lips as his eyes flicker up towards mine. 

“Why?” 

The question rolls off my lips with ease, my palms flattening against his chest as I lower my mouth to his neck, breathing over his pulse. 

“Because–” He lets out a hiss. I place my lips on his neck, sucking gently as I massage my hand over his shoulder. “Shit—we gotta stop, baby—this, this–” His jaw goes slack as I find his sweet spot. His hands dig into my hips, the slight bulge growing beneath me making my lips curl into a smile as I gently grind myself on top of him. 

“Why do you wanna stop, Chris?” I ask, nibbling the bottom of his ear, “What’s got you so tongue-tied, hm?” 

“You’re killin’ me,” he points, his gaze trained on me as he tangles his hand through my hair, pulling me back just enough to look at him, “-fuckin’ so annoying, so pretty and horrible, I just—I don’t know how much I can hold back–”

“Don’t,” I whisper, my hand gathering the material of his shirt in a fist as I watch him bite on his lower lip. His eyes trace over my face, one of his hands slowly tracing underneath my shirt, callusing beneath my bra. 

“Yeah? Don’t want me to hold back, hm?” he remarks, his hips adjusting in the slightest, my mouth falling open as I feel him rut against me through the fabric of our clothes. 

Fuck. I can’t take this. 

I lean forward, crashing my lips against his once more. Chris hums into my mouth. He furiously helps me peel off the bulky letterman jacket, the cold air feeling like relief compared to my burning skin. 

“Holy fuck, slow down, baby,” he husks, his hands falling to my hips as I shameless grind myself against his hard bulge. But I can’t get enough. “-’m not going anywhere—gonna stay and make you feel so good. Promise.” 

My heart drops as I feel his hand delicately caress over the purple lace covering my breasts. His nimble fingers trace around my hardened nub, a slight moan falling through my lips as I feel him smirk against me. 

“Take those cute jeans off, c’mon. Be a good girl for me—just this once, alright?” he grins. 

I nod slowly, awkwardly shifting as I pull down the denim while kicking off my shoes. Chris gets impatient, yanking the clothing to his own accord before planting me back on his lap, his jacket now discarded. 

“Holy fuck, look at these legs—would look so good wrapped around me,” he whispers, brushing my hair to the side as his lips graze my neck, “-while I fuck you deep and hard.” 

Oh my god. 

My mind is numb, every inch of my skin pulsing with a hot sensation of greed. Chris stares at me with lust, his hand moving in the corner of my eye. “Want me to touch you? Right….here,” he breathes, the pad of his finger resting directly over my bundle of nerves. 

I nod slowly, looking at him with hooded eyes as he starts to slowly circle the digit with a light, feathery touch. 

“More,” I moan, pulling his shirt into my fists as I watch him smile at me. 

“Yeah? What do you want, hm? Want my big dick in you? Want me to stretch you out and make you cum over and ov—

“Please,” I whisper, my hips moving for me as I struggle to stay still. 

Chris looks down, gesturing for me to take control. I hesitantly fumble with his jeans, pulling out his hard length as my mouth starts to water. 

Fuck. He’s big. No—he’s huge. 

As I go to pull my underwear to the side, Chris stops me, placing his hand around my wrist. 

“Uh-uh,” he tuts, “-take ‘em all the way off—wanna see all of you when I fuck your guts.” 

My thighs tense from his words, my hands quickly sliding the fabric down my thighs and discarding them without a single care. Chris pets over the top of my thighs, his eyes hungrily staring down between my legs. “Fuck—are you sure you want this? I…god, I can’t believe this is happening…”

I grab his hardness in my hand, spitting and dragging the lubricant up and down his shaft. Chris grits his teeth. His hands pinching into my sides as he lets out a deep groan. “You’re so big,” I whisper, mostly talking to myself. 

My eyes bulge as I feel Chris lift me with his hands on either side of my waist, placing me so my dripping entrance is directly aligned with his tip. His eyes bore into mine with dark passion. His jaw tense as he leans forward, kissing along my neck. 

“You gonna take it all f’me?” he dares, massaging my sides but keeping me from sinking down onto him. 

“Chris, please–”

“Gotta promise to take it all, sweetheart. Been teasin’ me all day already, I don’t need anymore of that, alright? Just—just gotta promise to let me stuff you full,” he purrs, sucking on the sensitive part of my neck just below my ear. 

“I promise, just—mmphf—” He slowly loosens his grip, letting me lower myself. I feel his tip nudge past my entrance, the stretch of his size making my body tense as my legs tighten to a halt. 

“Thaatt’s it, doin’ so good, just—just relax,” he praises, brushing my hair behind my ear, “-gotta be a good girl and keep your word again, yeah?”

“Y-yeah,” I stutter, slowly starting to take more of him. A broken cry falling through my lips as I feel my body stiffen again. 

Chris is patient. His eyes are trained on my face as his hands massage over my body. “You got it, c’mon—just—holy fuck,” his hand lingers down to my stomach, my top so messed up that it’s bunched over my breasts. He’s not just admiring the skin, he’s worshipping the bulge—the distinct imprint of him inside of me as I hover over the last bit of his length. 

“Look at that, sweetheart, I mean—fuck—” 

I shriek as I feel him lift his hips upward, burying himself inside of me completely. My hands grasp onto his shoulders, my eyes teary as I watch him bite on his lower lip. “God—such a good girl, takin’ me so good,” he compliments, slowly helping me as I start to ride him. 

I feel him reach deep inside of me, my eyes staring up at the ceiling of the car while my body tenses with a wave of pleasure collapsing over every beating pulse of my skin. This is even better than that damn kiss. I’ve never felt like this before. Not ever. It’s like an adrenaline rush, so overbearingly good that it feels addicting.  

“How’s that, baby, hm?” he hums, smiling down at the sight of his length plunging into my guts with each thrust as my movements quicken. 

“I–it’s, I—” 

What the fuck was I saying? 

Everything feels so light, so impossible. 

“That’s it, fuckkkkk—look so good ridin’ me like this, keep—-shit!” he seethes. My walls tighten around him, my nails digging into his shoulder through his shirt as he lifts his hips to meet my movements.

His lips parted with pure ecstasy. 

“Fuck, fuck, I,” My words are cut off my a moan. 

Chris laughs dryly, his grip becoming tighten as he really puts in the work—using me like a ragdoll as he furiously fucks himself into me. “Mmmm, th-ere,” he rasps, smiling as I let out small shrieks and moans between each snap of his hips. 

He’s so deep. I’d never felt this good in my life. There’s a buzzing in my ears, spots in my vision as I feel my body ruthlessly convulse with the overwhelming sensations. 

How the fuck is he so deep?

How the hell is he hitting against the perfect spot over and over and over—

“You cumming already?” 

His question pulls me back to reality. I nod dumbly, my mouth drawing open as I let out a long moan, my thighs quivering as I rock myself against his movement. 

“Oh—I—”

“My name, sweetheart, wanna hear my–my name, c’mon,” he urges, the squelches getting louder as I feel my body burn with euphoria. 

“Chris, Chris, I–I—my god,” I cry out, my hips slowly rolling to a stop as I feel him pause his motions. 

I don’t have time to react—nor to recover. I feel Chris hold me tightly, flipping me over so my back hits the seat—his cock brutal as he drills himself inside of me. 

“Take it, fuckin—fuckin’ take it,” he chants. 

My hands scramble into his hair. I pull his face into my neck, letting my teeth sink into his shoulder. Every rut of his hips leaves me breathless, my body seizing as I feel his hardness drive into me over and over again while his pelvis slaps against my clit. 

“I’m gonn—”

“Wait. Wait for me, I’m—’m so close, baby, so fuckin’ close—”

I clench around him, the buildup becoming too much as he continues to drown every inch of my body with pleasure. His desperate tone lingers in the air, his breaths shaking as his hips lose slight momentum. 

“Wher–-where do you—”

“In-inside, please, just—just let me cum,” I plea. 

Chris huffs, his thrusts becoming erratic and somehow deeper. “Cu-cum with me, I—shittttttttt, so fuckin’ good, so… so fuckin’ good,” he seethes, a warm sensation flooding inside of me as I feel my body convulse once more. 

My limbs fall lifelessly. Our motions fall lazier, eventually pausing to a halt. Chris gently removes himself, pulling me into his arms tightly and positioning back into the seat with me on his lap. 

His hand finds the back of my head as I lean onto his shoulder, petting through my hair as we both try to catch our breath. 

“Holy shit,” he whispers. I let out a light laugh, flinching as I feel my stomach burn from soreness. “You good there?” he asks. 

Nodding into the crook of his neck, I lift myself to stare at him once more. My eyes trace from his sweat ridden face, seeing a clear imprint of his hand on the fogged-up car window. My nose crinkles as I inhale deeply. “It smells like sex, I’m sorry,” I let out. 

Chris stares at me incredulously. “Sorry? That was fuckin’ perfect—better than the money if you ask me. I mean… I don’t know if I’ll be able to keep my hands to myself anymore,” he teases, flashing me a grin as he combs my hair behind my ear. 

My lips curl with excitement. “Oh really? You like takin’ me for rides?” 

He nods firmly, biting on his lower lip. “Mhm. And you seemed to really like ridin’.” 

I let out a light laugh, shrugging my shoulders before ruffling his hair playfully. “Only with you.”

Chris cocks an eyebrow at me, “Only me, huh?” I nod shyly, letting out a brief hum. His eyes linger on mine before falling back to my lips. “You do ride good. Maybe you should be the racer,” he taunts. 

“Maybe,” I whisper, “-maybe…” 

“Let’s get you back in those cute jeans though, yeah?” 

[beuxwhoyouare]

Never Wanted Kids

Brooklyn looked up at her boyfriends domineering stature. A cold look remained on Louis’ face…except it wasn’t Louis giving Brooklyn the cold shoulder.

“I don’t know why you followed me to the gym BROOKLYN. You’re pregnant and can’t do shit. You’re just holding me back from getting a good pump. Kinda like that night we got you knocked up.” Louis taunted the pregnant woman sitting on the bench in front of him.

“Brook…you don’t have to be like this. I’m sorry. I’ve learned my lesson…just please give me my body back.” The docile women replied quietly not trying to give away their truth out loud to avoid looking absolute insane.

The pair had been dating for years and Brooklyn always made it clear she never wanted kids, but that never stopped Louis from finding ways to go in unprotected. When that wasn’t enough he switched out her birth control until one day he got what he wanted. Brooklyn was devastated and rightfully felt violated. Something snapped that day for her.

He wanted a kid so badly then she was gonna give it him. Days turned to weeks turned to months of research before she finally found the pieces to exact her revenge. One night she prepare the ritual while Louis slept, while the results weren’t immediately apparent Brooklyn went to sleep that night hopeful the next day would be the response to the nights’ magical ceremony.

That brings us to today. The woman 7 months pregnant woke up with none of the aching back pains she’d been feeling but instead an aggressive sexual vigor. As she swung her feet off the bed she was propelled up by a foreign strength.

She didn’t need a mirror to confirm the new truth she lived. She grimaced with satisfaction knowing she was done with the misery. She went to the restroom to go examine the body she long observed but now could fully take advantage of. As she callously took off any clothing she was wearing she stood in front of the master bedroom en suite mirror and began stroking the very thing that impregnated her.

She knew the show would be in eye line for “Brooklyn” when she woke up. Adding grunts and moans to put on an even more primal display of the swap that just occurred. She could feel a climax coming when a scream came from her side. The realization that her boyfriend was aware of his situation and what was going on in front of her was enough to do the trick.

Rope after rope coated the mirror and nearby sink. She got some on her finger and satisfactorily walked out of the restroom nude to greet her new baby momma. As a shocked Louis tried to question what Brooklyn did she silenced him with the finger she wiped the mirror with. Like he forced her to do what he wanted she channeled that energy now.

“Lick it clean.” Brooklyn demanded.

As Louis tried to protest and move away, Brooklyn used all his former strength to keep her in place. He was stuck and he knew it. Resigned to his current situation he obliged.

Louis continued to beg and plead with her to give him back his body but that didn’t stop Brooklyn from going to the gym and test her new body. If he wanted a kid he could have it but that doesn’t mean she was going to sacrifice the life she wanted to have. Freedom, youth, and now….it may be different but so much sex. She may not have the same equipment but she still have things anyone can work with. Looks like she’s going to make ‘Louis’ bisexual now. She wasn’t going to let the limits of one abusive man stop her. She thought as she gallivanted across the gym restroom half naked after her post-workout shower.

All the energy spent crying and pleading forced Louis to crash once the couple returned home. Plenty of time for Brooklyn to pack a go bag and leave this chapter behind. Being ripped away from her life sucked but not as much as having that kid wouldn’t have.

[rcvcgers]

Hello, I wanted to tell you that I love your writing. Rotten Apples has been my favorite. I was wondering if you could write something with a super caring Caleb?

I had a rough night with lots of tears and self doubt, lots of feelings of self hate and a lot of ugly feeling I’ve targeted myself with and I wish I had Caleb to soothe me. My heart aches and I need a hug from him.

i'm so sorry you had a rough night darling :( i hope you were able to feel better! i wrote this for you as soon as i saw your request. i hope it helps you feel better <3

Here For You

pairing: caleb x reader

synopsis: you've isolated yourself from the world and your boyfriend comes to comfort you.

word count: 3.08k words

content warnings: self deprecation, self doubt, bad/negative thoughts

author's note: i hope this request can help whoever reads this feel better <3 just know that you are so, so, so loved and deserve all of the good things in the world!

For the past few days, you’ve unintentionally isolated yourself from from the world. The first day the negative thoughts entered your brain, you acted as if everything was okay, that you were on top of the world. But seeing everybody else’s smiles and hearing their joyous laughter began to weigh down on you.

You wanted to be supportive of your friends and celebrate their achievements, but it was so hard to put a fake smile on your face and pretend to be excited. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t help but feel so…dull. To feel so dead inside that at moments you doubted that your existence was real. You want to be so happy, to bask in the joy of positive emotions and affirmations, and yet whenever you try, your stupid mind had to drag you back into the darkness.

You used the excuse of being sick to get out of dinner parties and hanging out. You even used a few of your sick days to get off from work, leaving your team scrambling to fill the void of you being gone.

Had life always been so hard? Why couldn’t it give you a break? Even just for one day, you wish to have some kind of release from the depression that has sunk into your body.

It’s not your fault that life is so unforgiving. Things happen, many of which are out of your control, but why did it have to affect you so badly? Did it really need to cause such chaos that uplifts you from acting like a normal person? Fuck, you haven’t even managed to shed a single tear since the negative thoughts hit your mind.

You stare at your bedroom’s blank ceiling. The sun had disappeared from the sky, its once vibrant oranges and pinks decorated your walls and ceiling, but now you were left with a deep gray color with only moonlight illuminating your room.

This had been your routine for the past week. You’d rot in bed, staring out the window as life passed you by. You watched birds flying, their freedom making you even more depressed, and watched as the sun and moon played a game of cat and mouse with each other, chasing after the other as the sky changes colors. Was it a routine you have grown bored of? Yes. Of course. But you couldn’t bring yourself to change out of it.

You wished your boyfriend was here. Caleb always knew what to do and say to help you feel better. You can’t even put some of the blame on him for not being here. His job yanked him away for a last minute patrol in the Deepspace Tunnel.

According to Caleb, it was the Fleet’s first time exploring this part of the Tunnel. You were so proud of him! The Fleet finally recognized his amazing talent and put him as the new supervising Colonel of Deepspace Exploration. He deserved it! He’s worked so hard for an opportunity like this to show up. 

Yes, you knew that it would take him away for weeks at a time. If not from the actual exploring itself, Caleb will be buried in paperwork, meetings, and flight schedules.

You should have taken him up on his offer to stay in his apartment in Skyhaven. Maybe then you would have been able to see him during your dark days and he can be the hand that pulls you into safety from the storm. Instead, you opted to stay behind in Linkon, claiming that your friends and work will keep you busy!

If only you knew that the day after he left things would go oh so wrong.

Linkon wasn’t so bad, though. The sunlight was good for your mood instead of the gloomy days that Skyhaven has. The sunlight helped motivate you to get out of bed to brush your teeth and shower, but that was about it.

A sigh leaves your lips. You roll onto your side, your gaze falling back outside the window. Planes fly by in the night sky, leaving off-white trails of exhaust behind them. A wave of sadness hits your stomach while you watch the planes.

A part of you wishes that Caleb is on one of those planes…that he’s coming home to see you.

No. Why would he? He has his new promotion with the Fleet. He can’t waste any time on trivial things…including you.

You flinch from the thought. Squeezing your eyes shut, you curl up into a ball, your knees pulling up to your chest. Why did these thoughts have to torment you? You know that Caleb would give up everything to come see you, so why do you always have to be so anxious that he’s going to leave you?

You know it’s the imposter syndrome talking, but you know that you’re counting the seconds until Caleb realizes that you aren’t worthy of his time, adoration, and love. You’re a semblance of a girlfriend, someone who snuck into such a prestigious position in his life. He deserves so much better than you. Hell, he deserves someone who is just as high of a rank he is! Another Colonel, maybe, or perhaps someone who he works with so he can see her everyday.

“Pipsqueak?” You freeze. The sweet nickname he has for you sends chills down your spine. The bedroom door creaks and the sound of faint footsteps draws near. You are quick to pull the bed’s sheets over your body and head, covering the sight of moonlight and the dark night sky.

The mattress dips and you feel a large hand rest on your side. It travels up and down, cascading the side of your covered body. You shudder from the touch, knowing that you’re unworthy of such affection.

“Baby? Are you okay?” Caleb asks. He reaches for the top of the sheets, drawing them away from your face. You feel the chilled air of the bedroom hit your face. You flinch and grab the sheets back from him, covering your face once again. “Hey…what’s wrong? Talk to me.”

“I’m fine…I’m just really tired,” while it isn’t necessarily a lie, you know it’s simply an excuse that he’ll see right through as he usually does. You listen to his slow exhale,, heart pounding inside your chest.

This is it. This is the moment where he finally realizes how much of a loser your are. You can’t even bring yourself to fully greet him when he comes home from work, what kind of partner are you?

“I’m,” you fake a cough, “I’m sick.”

“You’re sick?” Caleb repeats. Your heart twists inside your chest. Your eyes sting from the turmoil that bubbles inside your stomach.

“Y-Yeah…you should go back to Skyhaven so you don’t catch anything.”

You hated how easy it is to lie to him. To push him away from you.

Caleb doesn’t respond. Goosebumps spread across your body, suddenly feeling cold as you sick and twisted imagination slowly turns into a reality.

Did he finally realize that you’re nothing more than a nuisance to him?

“Hey…look at me,” Caleb coos. Your grip weakens on the sheets. The fabric slips through your fingers, eyes watching as the moonlight returns to your gaze, your handsome boyfriend sitting beside you with a look of worry, brows knitted together, bottom lip slightly pouted out.

Your heart breaks. It shatters into a million little pieces. It’s because if you that he looks this way, that he’s probably worried over nothing. Tears brim your eyes. Caleb sighs and his shoulders relax, watching as you slowly sit up in bed.

You sniffle and wipe your nose with the back of your hand. Your bottom lip trembles. The man reaches out and cups your face.

His touch is so gentle against your skin. Warmth seeps into your skin but it only makes you feel worse. Your body begins to shake. Caleb’s violet eyes scan your body, gently wrapping his free arm around your back. He pulls you into his lap with such ease, guiding your legs to rest on his sides, placing your full weight onto him.

Your melt into his touch, arms wrapping around sides, fingers curling into his shirt, tugging on the material. You bury your face into his neck, the tears finally leaving your eyes.

“It’s okay…I’m here now, let it all out.”

And you do. Sobs escape your body. Your body shakes and you push into him, the man gently running his hand up and down your back, soothing you. He holds the back of your head, securing you to his body. Your tears stain his t-shirt, soaking it with your salty tears.

You shake your head, unable to control how tight you hold onto him. His scent is so comforting to you, your nose burying into the warm skin of his neck to get more of it. It calms your nerves alongside his light and comforting touch.

“I’m so sorry,” you choke the words out, “I don’t know why I’m like this.”

“Never apologize for how you feel, my love,” Caleb gives you a gentle and reassuring squeeze. You sigh and peel your face from his neck, finally getting a good look of him.

He wears the biggest frown on his face as he pushes stray hairs out of your face. Your cheeks are stained form your tears, eyes red and swollen form the onslaught of sibs that overtook your body. Caleb runs his fingers up and down your sides.

“Breathe with me, okay?” Caleb asks. You nod in sync with him. He places his hand over your chest, feeling your heart pounding from inside your ribcage.

The two of you inhale for a couple seconds then hold the breath, your lungs full of oxygen, then slowly exhale. Under Caleb’s touch, he can feel your heart come to a slow and steady beat. A small smile spreads across his face, his purple eyes meeting yours.

“I’m so proud of you,” Caleb whispers. He leans in and presses a light kiss to your forehead. You sigh and rest your hands on his chest, flattening out some of the wrinkles in the fabric. You stare at the wet spot on his clothes and frown, feeling absolutely horrible that you ruined his clothes. “What’s wrong, baby?”

Your gaze floats back to his, his hands firmly holding onto your waist. You sigh and look away, unable to weave words together to form a rational sentence that doesn’t make you look, well, crazy.

How can you explain to your boyfriend that your mind has caused so much chaos and turmoil? That it has you believing that you aren’t good enough for anyone in the world, especially him. That he deserves so much better than what you have to offer him.

“Hey,” Caleb’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts. He cups your cheek and swipes away a single tear that rolls down your cheek. “Stop thinking. Clear your mind.”

You nod and slowly inhale, needing to calm down your fast beating heart. Your mind doesn’t clear, though, and only becomes more and more loud as the thoughts of self doubt and negativity scream at you.

“What are five things you see?” Caleb asks.

“What?” You’re taken aback by his question. He squeezes your hips.

“Tell me five things you see. Be descriptive.”

“Um…okay,” you breathe out. Your eyes leave his as you scan the room. You turn in his grip, looking out the window behind you. “I see the moon. It’s big and yellow tonight. Looks like cheese.”

“That’s one.” You feel Caleb press a gentle kiss to your shoulder. You turn back around, heart fluttering.

“I see my desk. It’s…really messy. I should clean it up.”

“That’s two…and I’ll clean it for you tomorrow. What else?”

“Through the bedroom door, I can see the kitchen light is still on. I see…I see bags on the counter, too.” You look at Caleb, his thumbs slowly rubbing small circles into your skin under your shirt. “I see the most beautiful purple eyes, too.”

“Oh?” Caleb raises his eyebrows, smiling at you. You nod. He kisses your cheek and you melt into him yet again. “Ready to tell me what’s wrong now?”

“I don’t know what’s wrong, Caleb,” you breathe out, slowly growing frustrated. You press your forehead against his and squeeze his shoulders. “My mind just…hates me. I don’t know what happened, but an overwhelming sense of dread came over me and…and I began to hate myself,” your voice cracks. 

Tears return to your eyes and Caleb is quick to wipe them away. You manage to keep your breathing in check, making sure to not lose the sense of calm that soothes your aching body. Your glaze flickers back to Caleb’s and you sigh, gnawing at the inside of your cheek.

“I don’t know why I’m like this,” your voice is just above a whisper. “You don’t deserve to go through this…you deserve someone who’s normal and good enough.”

“No,” Caleb immediately shakes his head. His own eyes become glossy from your admission. “Don’t you ever say those words ever again, do you understand?”

Your brows furrow, meeting in the center. Your hands slip from his body but he takes them back, placing them back onto his chest. He moves his head to meet your fleeting gaze, capturing your attention. He places his finger under your chin, turning your face back forward.

“I love you…I love you so much more than you can ever imagine. If anyone here isn’t deserving, it’s me. I don’t deserve to be in a relationship with you because you, my love, are lightyears better than I will ever be.”

“Caleb…” you breathe his name out. You hang onto every word he says, heart swelling.

“You are the most beautiful woman to ever exist. I love your smile, your laugh, and the way you always make me happy. I also love you when you aren’t feeling good. I love you and your frown and the way you manage to look so beautiful while crying…you’re the one for me. Nobody else,” he pulls your hand over his heart. You can feel just how hard and fast it pumps inside his chest.

“You don’t mean that…”

“Of course I do. From the first moment I met you, I knew that you were the one for me. On that day, I swore to myself that I would do everything in my power to protect you, to keep you safe…it pains me to know that I couldn’t protect you from yourself. I’m so sorry,” his voice cracks.

His grip on you tightens. His touch and words are so reassuring that you manage to push away the dark thoughts that linger in your mind.

Caleb loves you. He loves you so much. It is evident in the way he holds you, the way he kisses your tears away. You can feel it in the warmth that radiates from his body. Caleb makes you feel so worthy of his love, his adoration.

“Everyone has bad days,” he tilts his head to the side, his gaze deepening, “and that’s okay. It’s normal to have a bad week. It’s normal to want to crawl away and disappear. It’s okay to cry and to ask for help when it feels like you’re drowning,” Caleb coos. “Please…please tell me when you need help. I will always be here to pick you up off your feet. I will always be here to carry the weight that forms on your shoulders. I will do anything for you if it means that I get to see you smile again…that I get to live under the sunlight of your beautiful soul. I love you.”

“I love you too, Caleb,” tears roll down your cheeks. They’re bittersweet, formed from both sadness and joy.

The darkness that settled in the back of your mind vanishes. You can feel the weight leave your chest, opening up your lungs for more air to get in, to nourish your body. Caleb pulls you close to him, burying his face into your neck. His lips scrape across your skin, leaving a trail of sweet and gentle kisses in his wake.

His fingers slip under your shirt. The sensation of his skin against yours leaves you feeling so fulfilled. You love the way he treats you, how he always makes for sure that you know just how loved you are. He takes care of you. It’s so much more than you could have ever asked for.

What did you do to deserve a man like Caleb?

“Have you eaten yet today?” Caleb asks. You shake your head no, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, bringing him closer into your embrace. “Come on, I stopped at the store on the way here. Let me make you some dinner.”

Caleb picks you up with ease. You gasp and cling to him, a quiet laugh escaping your lips. His head shoots out from your neck, eyes wide as a big smile flashes across his face.

“You laughed!” He swoons, leaning back in to attack your face in more kisses, leaving no part of your face untouched. You close your eyes and shriek, more and more giggles fleeing from your lips while he carries you to the kitchen. “My pip-squeak is laughing! She’s happy again! My babygirl has come back to me!”

“Stop being do dramatic, Caleb!” Your laughter melts away the sadness in your heart and mind. You feel light again, ready to take on the world with Caleb at your side.

“Okay! Okay!” He laughs and pulls his face out from your neck. Caleb beams at you, setting you down on the cold countertop. You gasp and he’s quick to pull you up, resting his hands underneath your legs to protect you from the icy counter.

“What?” You ask, waving your hand in front of his face. He shifts his weight between his feet and leans in, pressing a kiss to your lips. You lean into him and kiss him back, butterflies erupting your chest. He slightly pulls away, lips grazing over yours, foreheads pressed together.

“I love you, pip-squeak, but I am going to need my hands for cooking,” he chuckles.

“I love you too...can I be your sous chef?”

“Are you kidding? Of course you can be my sous chef! Who else would I want by my side?”

[talesfromawannabewriter]

@things-arent-what-they-seem66

Adam: Abel, I was telling you the truth that day when I said that you were and still are the only light in my life. For longest time I have been so unhappy. Your mother, for a lack of a better word, isn’t a good person. This isn’t me trying to turn you against her, I’m merely trying to express that she did her best to make life…unpleasant. I understand from her perspective that she was incredibly unhappy as well. She never asked to be my wife or even to have you. But I never asked for to be her husband. She had unfairly taken her anger out on me and on top of trying to make her happy or at least appeased I had to deal with trying to appease your grandparents. I, I just could never be the perfect boy for them no matter how hard I tried for the company. THAT was why I took those pills, I needed them not just to feel better but to properly think. Because I just, I, I, I just couldn’t!!!

He put his head in his hands and tried not to cry too badly.

Adam: I’m sorry bud, I really am, I never wanted you to see me like this, that’s why I kept the pills from you. I just wanted you to be happy.

Abel: I was happy, when you were with me. I, (chokes out a sob) I want my daddy back.

The light in his life

@things-arent-what-they-seem66

Adam groaned as he finally woke up from another barely restful sleep. He sat up and ran a hand through his short, chocolate locks tiredly before sitting up and getting out of bed. His mind and body went into autopilot as he took a shower, cleaned his face and teeth, and took his medication before finally donning a robe and heading downstairs to get some breakfast.

He automatically grimaced as he heard his wife's laughter before he even entered the kitchen. He saw Lilith pacing as he animatedly talked to a friend on the phone. However, her face stained when she noticed his presence.

She turned her back on him and continued her chat. Adam felt his irritation stir within him as he grabbed a mug and poured some coffee in it.

Abel: Morning Dad!

His lips pulled upwards at the sound of his seventeen-year-old. He turned around and saw his son eating on the marble counter. His smile doubled as soon as he saw Abel's.

Adam: Morning bud.

He went to sit down next to him and try to enjoy his morning with his son. Keyword, tried. He was just about to read the paper when he was barraged by Lilith.

Lilith: Well, I'm off I'll be gone for the majority of the day, but I'll be back here around four thirty or so to pick you up. When I get back, I want you both in your suits got that?

Abel: Yes mom.

Abel replied before going back to his breakfast. Adam sat there confused, however, picking him up and Abel to where?

Adam: Um Lilith where we are going tonight?

Lilith pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed heavily: Adam I thought I told you this already. Tonight is the company party.

Adam: No, that's not right the company's anniversary isn't until a few months from now.

She narrowed her eyes at him and crossed her arms: No, this is the anniversary of when your parents' company and my parent's company merged. Don't you remember? Because before that little contract was sealed another contract was sealed between us.

Adam knew exactly what she was getting into, she was talking about their marriage. About seventeen years ago Lilith's parents were having a rough patch with their own company. Even if their business was still lucritive in certain areas.

They decided to get help from Adam's parents, and they said that they could simply merge their companies as one. That way they would all still have rights to them as one day their children would too.

However, there was only one way for a merge such as this to happen. One minute Adam was being introduced to a beautiful girl the next he was standing at the altar saying I do. What made it even worse was that they were only eighteen at the time.

No, the worst possible outcome is being married to this beautiful yet cynical creature. At least there was one small yet noticeable light that came from this, Abel.

Adam was pulled out of his thoughts by his wife snapping her sharp, well-manicured fingers in his face.

Lilith: Ahem, as I was saying since this is our "family" company party Jr. is allowed to attend. But I want you to make sure he stays on his best behavior for the ENTIRE evening. Is that clear?

Adam: Crystal.

Lilith: Good, then I'm off.

Adam's hardened gaze followed her retreating form as she left. Not even bothering to at least say goodbye to their son. Adam started to take in big gulps of his drink, trying to ready himself for the day.

--

Adam downed yet another glass of champagne trying to keep himself busy as he watched the guests mingle about. Abel was not that far away talking to a few of the employees' children. Though Abel tended to be on the shyer side his friendly character always brought others to him.

Adam: (mutters) At least you're having a good time.

The sound of a familiar voice drew Adam's attention to Lilith.

Adam: (mutters): And so are you.

She wasn't that far from him yet didn't take any note or acknowledgment of him there. Or maybe she did, and she simply didn't care. Adam however did take notice in the topic she and her friends were discussing.

Him.

Despite everything in him screaming to walk away he got a little closer to them and listened closely.

Stella: So, tell me darling what is he like in bed? Is he at least desirable then?

Lilith: Ugh, don't make me laugh he is HORRENDOUS under the sheets. It's like he has no idea what to even do with it. And it was one thing back before he started taking those damn happy pills. Because at least then he wasn't bad to look at. Now every single time I have to lay with him it's like a walrus is trying to squash me!

Her friend let out a haughty laugh: Oh, I can't even imagine the horror of that brute naked let alone actually bedding someone.

Lilith: What makes it worse is that he practically has breasts now. Breasts Stella! But that's not even the absolute most dreadful part of being married to him.

Stella: Oh? What is then?

Lilith: I have to do all the work! I run his company; I run the house, and he even wants me to run him ragged in the sheets!

Stell: (gasps) You're not suggesting-

Lilith: Yup! From the very beginning, he had me do all the work while he lay there on his back like a log. A true bore and pathetic excuse for a human being. I'm glad I only had to birth one child so I could stop pretending to want to bed him.

The rest of the conversation was drowned out as stared down at himself. A hand going to his extended waistline and grimacing. He really had let himself go hadn't he?

Retracting the hand back he used it to scrub over his face in an attempt to stop the tears from flowing. Instead, he decided to find something stronger than champagne to drown himself in.

[narcissistshandler]

i don't know if you are taking requests for the spiderverse but if so can you write about hobie with a reader (top of course) who is a virgin?

𝗦𝗢 𝗖𝗟𝗢𝗦𝗘 𝗧𝗢 𝗕𝗘𝗚𝗚𝗜𝗡𝗚

pairing. hobie brown x male reader

warning. amab! reader, top! reader, virgin reader, bottom! hobie, light sub!reader eager to please

a/n. I was surprised to receive 3 different requests for virgin!reader so here it is!

You, as a sane, educated, hormonal adult, were no stranger to sex. It was something everyone discovered early on, and after the disgust, revulsion, and aversion came interest and desire. Masturbation. But masturbating was very different from having real sex, you always knew.

Nothing like real, hot sex with your damn sexy boyfriend.

It felt like you could faint at any moment, your nerves all jumbled up in a bunch of pointless worry. Hobie, of course, led you to bed with an ease that made it seem like you had always been there, that you were supposed to be there. Without much questioning, he knew it was your first time and seemed eager to make it good for you.

You didn't have to think much, he would take care of everything.

You had been here countless times, but it had never been like this, none of the touching and rubbing from before felt anything like this. Just the way he kissed you let you know he was craving it as much as you were. It made you feel better about your lack of experience, knowing you weren't the only one feeling a little greedy. Hobie kissed you so hungrily, panting and whimpering when you pulled away to breathe, that made you wish you never had to breathe again just so you could keep kissing him forever.

You wanted him to enjoy this as much as you did, even though you were the inexperienced one here. Hobie knew exactly what he was doing, what he wanted and he didn't stop until he got it — you, naked, hard and almost delirious in his bed. Not that you were complaining. This was the closest thing to a divine experience you had ever had. Hobie shone like an fallen angel over you.

"You're holding your breath." He barely separates his mouth from yours to speak; his eyes remain closed and you feel each word being pronounced against your lips, moist with his saliva. With the separation, it's like you can breathe again. Breathing wasn't as important as kissing Hobie. "Is everything okay?"

Fingers twitch in the grip you have on his pointed hips, his weight burning into you, your skin sweaty and slick. Your thumbs run over the prominent bones there and his hips shake, his hard cock that you're hyperaware of, rubbing against your stomach, letting you know that yes, this felt good to him too. You wanted him to feel good so badly.

You take a moment to respond and Hobie sit up once more, resting his hands on your chest as he corrects his position. The shift makes him sink down onto you, pushing you even deeper into his channel. Hobie makes a satisfied sound, almost a purr, seeming content to just sit on you, with your cock pushing its way inside him. You, on the other hand, feel your head spinning. Hobie was so tight around you it was almost hard to breathe, even the prior preparation hadn't lessened the tight grip — you had then asked if it hurt, but Hobie groaned all the way until he took you completely.

"Too much?" Hobie asks, with a downright sinful swivel of his hips. You grip his hips tighter, unsure if you want to make him stop or beg for more.

It’s almost embarrassing, how easy and yielding he has you. But Hobie seems to like it. There’s a lingering curve of a smile on his mouth and he’s as talkative as usual.

But you were having difficulty finding your words. Your mind seemed to have short-circuited as you indulgently, followed Hobie's command to lie down on the bed and watched him slide one finger after another inside himself, stretching out for you. It was hot as fuck and you've been an stuttering mess ever since, tripping over your own words, most of what you said barely understandable. Damn, Hobie. Baby. That's so hot. You look so hot like that. Does it hurt? Does it feel good? Can I try next time?

Next time. That choice of words seemed to almost make Hobie cum right there, around three calloused fingers shoved up to the knuckles in his ass. He had then unbuttoned your pants with a hunger that made the button fly across the room and thrusting his feet into the mattress, guided your cock into his soft hole, sinking inch after wide inch without pause.

"Cat got your tongue? Where are your big words now, virgin boy?" Hobie jokes. The set of heavy silver rings on his fingers still glistened with traces of lubricant.

You took a deep breath. Fuck. Fuck. No porn compared. The hot hole like an oven around you, squeezing you like a vice, the slender body above you. Hobie was a sight that almost pushed you to orgasm in itself. You were determined to last, wanting to see Hobie cum before you let yourself go, it was easier thought than done. "It's not too much," you say. "You just feel so good I can't think straight."

Hobie laughs. A bright sound that goes straight to your cock, which twitches inside him. "That's the goal. Don't think about anything. Just focus on me." That was easy, so you nod, hands moving up his torso, passing over the hard nipples and back down his thighs, spread around you, because it was impossible to stop touching this man. "I'm going to ride you until you cum, then you can turn me over and fuck me until I'm hoarse from screaming your name. Does that sound good?"

Sounds like paradise.

"Yes," you gasp.

"Will you let me take care of you? I will make this night unforgettable for you." Hobie then begins to move, his leg muscles tensing as he begins to move up and down, slowly, taking his time, savoring your member dragging through his tight walls.

"Yes, of course. Whatever you want." Please, you almost begged. Not yet, even though you knew that before the end of the night Hobie would have ripped the word out of you. It didn't embarrass you, you would beg for it if that was what he wanted. You already knew that after today, if necessary, you would beg on your knees to be able to be inside him again. Hobie didn't have to do much to make this a night you'd dream about every day.

[artsninspo]

007 | Richmond Inc.

「 ✦ full library & archive ✦ 」

「 ✦ aaron pierre & characters library ✦ 」

⇚ 006

♠ summary: Lorence navigates the high-stakes world of elite private security under her enigmatic boss, Terry Richmond. But when Terry’s watchful gaze turns unexpectedly intimate, the tension between them ignites—blurring the lines. This ones fluffy 🧸.

♠ pairing: Terry Richmond (Aaron Pierre - Rebel Ridge) X Lorence Cole (Black Fem OC)

♠ word-count: ~3.2K

⌖ - Monte Carlo, Monaco

I’ve never flown private before, nor have I ever been on such a lively flight. The champagne flows freely, and the chatter is so loud I crank my headphones to maximum volume just to drown it out. The last time I was aboard a plane, I was tossing back flutes of champagne to numb the sting of losing my job. Weeks later, I’m flying private at an elevated position—my new reality. Unlike my more seasoned colleagues, I’m more unnerved than excited.

I check the ETA on one of the screens and go over the expected hotel arrival time, counting down the hours until the big race is over and I can finally relax. I take out my tablet, reviewing my plans for what feels like the hundredth time, searching for any holes in my outline. I replay the live feeds at an accelerated speed, scanning for anything that could derail my emergency plans.

“Lorence.”

Cassandra smiles, placing a flute of champagne in front of me.

“Cassandra.”

She folds her arms, giving me a knowing look.

“Please tell me you're talking to someone handsome and not reviewing your plans again.”

“I’m talking to someone handsome,” I reply, telling her what she wants to hear. She sighs, satisfied.

“Emergencies almost never happen, and you’ve planned for so many types—it’ll be fine.”

“Well, partying isn't going to help my nerves,” I explain.

“You’re almost as bad as Terry.” She powers off my tablet and takes the open seat beside me.

“Now I’m insulted.”

She giggles, leaning in conspiratorially.

“Also, never suggest staggered flights for operatives again. Your extra effort is already making you unpopular with the weaker links.”

“Unpopular? As if I have the boss’s ear or give a flying fuck.”

“That’s the spirit.” She nudges me playfully. “It wasn’t the majority, but Emerson tried to stir up trouble. Richmond shut it down quickly. That weasel is always looking for a win. Must’ve heard there’s no warmth between you and Terry.”

“The blind know that.”

“Good thing my mouth isn't big. Cause that suit try-on definitely was more Dubai heat than Antarctica frigid.”

I give her a warning look, but she only squeaks, enjoying my discomfort.

“I’m glad you're amused.”

“Ladies.”

Emerson approaches with a drink in hand and that cavalier smile. He’s one of the company’s top ten most attractive male directors—probably the best-looking among the single ones.

“Emerson.” Cassandra acknowledges him, but his attention shifts to me.

“Lorence, why don’t you come mingle with the rest of us?”

I blink, caught off guard. The only colleague I’m on a first-name basis with is Cassandra. I’ve known Joel long enough to consider him more of a friend.

“I’m a nervous flyer. I’m fine here with my headphones and Gordon.”

“Cassandra didn’t tell you we use first names?”

“Not everyone. It’s Cole's choice.” Cassandra interjects quickly, sensing my discomfort. “Cole, what would you like to be called?”

“Cole.”

“Cole it is.” Emerson forces a smile. “You make your friends call you Cole?”

“I didn't realize the two of you were friends.” Cassandra leans in with a smirk.

“I’m friends with all of my colleagues.”

“Hmm.” Cassandra’s brow raises with condescension.

“Well, Cole, we’ll chat once we touchdown.” Emerson flashes another smile before returning to the back of the plane.

“What was that?” I ask, narrowing my eyes.

“Emerson and I may or may not have had a few rendezvous. It also may have ended badly.” she shrugs.

I’m not surprised.

“How did it end badly - hypothetically?” I ask.

“I felt like he was trying to use me to get on Terry’s good side, and when that didn’t work, suddenly Terry and I were too close. Blah, blah, blah. I know how much he makes, and it is NOT enough to afford me full time. So I went cold. Hypothetically.”

Cassandra shrugs, completely unbothered.

“Don’t hmm me. We’re all gorgeous—you’re the only one who hasn't dipped in the office pot.”

We spend the rest of the flight gossiping about who’s been with who, and I’m astounded by the level of secrecy and professionalism. Five office flings had gone entirely under my radar. When the party dies down I turn back on my music and relax dozing off a little. I’ve memorized my routes down to the detail and the timing windows play in my subconscious in a loop. 

When the party dies down, I finally drift off, my subconscious looping the timing windows of my routes. Twenty minutes until clearance, an hour until our clients are safe. I wake with the sun warming the Mediterranean coastline below.

The weight of my responsibilities dampens any excitement. The drive to our accommodations is short, and I snap photos for my parents. The group dinner is the last thing I want to attend, but the chefs' live show and five-star cuisine prove to be a welcome distraction. Afterward, I slip away to the terrace with a glass of wine in hand.

“Still going over the routes?” Richmond’s voice cuts through the night air. I know it’s him by the shift in energy.

“Yeah” I respond.

“If you don't trust yourself—and you should—you should trust the agents on the ground, the drivers, the armed agents, helicopters, and tech. And if you don't trust all that, there's still the local PD, Fire, EMS... and human nature. After that, it's an act of God, and none of us can contend with that.”

I exhale slowly.

“I just don’t want anything to go wrong.”

“When something goes wrong tomorrow, it won’t be because of you.”

“When?”

“When. It's inevitable.” His confidence is oddly reassuring, though I know better than to assign sentimentality to Richmond. “One of our clients could get wasted, fall over and break their nose, or have food poisoning, require medical attention or be robbed by hookers they’ve hired or local thieves. Something happens here every single year. Transport’s never been an issue and no one has approached it like you have” he says.

I nod, sighing deeply. “That’s some peace of mind.”

“It’s not flattery, it's the truth,” he responds.

“Has to be, flattery seems highly unlikely” I confess. “Maybe now I understand why you’re always so uptight - this is a lot on someone’s shoulders” I sigh looking back down into the city. I swear he snickers but by the time the lights flicker on above us signaling night is here it's gone from his expression.

“I’m the last person you need to worry about,” he says. Looking him over I concur - he’s probably experienced things my nightmares would have trouble conceiving of.

“So if it isn't stress then what is it? Just your natural disposition?” I ask looking away just in case his face shows disapproval.

“I can never tell if you're joking” he responds unappreciative of my sarcasm. The feeling is mutual, I can never read him either. There are too many things at play, this sizzling tension between us born of disdain, or misunderstanding, or the unbalanced power dynamic. His resistance to letting his guard down. Smiling, small talk, pleasantries or being kind. The silence lingers mostly because none of my responses are safe and could put us back at odds. “I’m not uptight,” he says finally.

“Pigs fly. Now we’re both lying” I remark.

“I’m not uptight, I’m what my position requires of me as the lead, founder and CEO” he explains. 

“Look, I'd better get some rest. I'm a mess of nerves and we already don’t get along well” I sigh, not wanting to get into it with him. He smirks this time.

“You’ll toss and turn all night if you head in now. Why don’t you change into something more comfortable and meet me in the lobby in ten?” he says, stopping me in my tracks. He looks harmless when he smiles. It withdraws into his usual disposition and when I turn Emerson is walking up behind me.

“Ok” I agree and he nods giving me a half smile that I know Emerson sees. I wonder if it’s to get my blood out of shark infested waters.

“Emerson” I nod, taking leave. I slip my heels back on once I'm off of the grassy terrace and head in. There’s a sprinkling of people, less than half of those who were at dinner. I head to my room and look myself over. I curse Cassandra when all of the outfits I have packed are transitional, appropriate for the beach, boat, dinner and anything else that may arise in a place like this. Blowing out a deep breath I opt for a black maxi dress. I grab a small purse and fill it with necessities. My reflection is date worthy, not following your boss around appropriate. I tie a scarf around my purse just in case it gets cool. When I arrive in the lobby Richmond is checking his watch and stands up like I've stood him up. He’s changed too into something more relaxed. 

“Sorry I’m late” I tell him once I've crossed the room. His eyes scan over me, his tense demeanour has returned.  “Am I dressed okay?” I ask.

“Fine” he nods. “I just thought we’d take a walk, go over your routes in person, put your mind at ease, tire the body, help you rest” he explains and it is such a simple approach I wonder why I haven't thought of it.

“I can walk in this” I nod and he leads the way. We walk alongside each other. It takes us about ten minutes to make it to the primary route we decided on. “Cassandra said, always look better than you need to while in Monaco” I tell him when the silence has stretched too long.

“That’s what that bill was about” he mutters to himself shaking his head. “I dont think you and Cassandra have the same objectives”

“I don't follow”

“Cassandra likes causing a stir and hooking big fish” he says without condescension or condemnation in his tone as we walk. “Wherever we go” he adds, making a left. I see he’s memorized the route as well as I have.

“I bet she’s a great decoy” I think out loud.

“She is,” he nods, leading us onto the main road. It’s brighter along this path, I smell food and hear music and chatter which is a good sign. We pass souvenir shops, restaurants, boutiques and tourists. There’s so much to see, it's distracting and I don't remember the last time I was in Europe so carefree. I take pictures of postcards and restaurants and send them to my parents. My mom will tell me what to try and my dad will tell me what cheesy thing they want.

“So, are you and your parents very close?” Richmond asks and I realize he has a birds eye view into my phone and no boundaries.

“Yeah” I nod. “They love to travel and my mom runs a food blog” I explain my actions.

“I’ve seen the food blog - she’s very good,” he remarks. Of course he has.

“She’d be happy to hear that” I say with a smile.

“How’d she get into it?” he asks.

“She had an empty nest, she put everything on hold to be a mom and wife. She retired early and I told her to go. It was like we both went to college together. She’s always been great but since it started she’s really happy.” I reflect feeling calmer at the thought of my folks. 

“We have contacts and so many unused vouchers, tickets, everything. You should ask Cassandra and use them up. Go with them too.” he says giving unconventional advice for a boss.

“Are your parents still around?” I ask and he tenses.

“My mom passed. Pops is still around. He’s married to Cassandra’s mom” Richmond says and it's a shock at first then it makes sense. “I was sure she told you.”

“She didn’t and I’m sorry about your mom” I respond he nods.

“It  was a long time ago,” he says. We approach a live band and he guides me in front of him. “Hold your purse close, it's a distraction for pickpockets” he explains, keeping me close until we’re out the crowd. We’re lower down now and closer to the water at one of the intersections I thought would have the most trouble. I assess it quickly before relaxing into my decisions.

“So is this what you recommend before a big gig?” I ask.

“No, I don't advise you to walk around at night in a foreign country,” he says.

“Now it's you who needs faith. We go through too much training to not be fine anywhere in the world that isn't war torn.” I remind him crossing the road. 

“If the richest men in the world need protection, what makes you think you're above danger?” he asks.

“I don’t think I’m above anything, I just dont think danger is likely.”

“You’re naive,” he comments.

“You're a pessimist” I respond.

“Realist. Men jeopardise their livelihoods and lives all around the world for women and sometimes men. Being alone at night is an unnecessary risk” he says, sounding like my father. When we make it to the beach the sound of the ocean is calming.

“Can we stay awhile?” I ask and he nods. I step onto the sand. My dress is too long so I take down my hair and use my hair tie to hike it up to my knees. There’s a breeze in the air but after all that walking it's not too chilly. My nerves are worlds better. I find a spot and sit down, feeling safe. I close my eyes and block out everything aside from the sound of the waves crashing and crackling sea foam. The air shifts and I catch Richmonds cologne as he sits beside me. I can feel his eyes on me but I keep mine closed. He probably thinks I’m crazy, maybe even too trusting given our history but I don't open my eyes until I'm ready. When I do his eyes are on me.

“Jameson told me you dont value your life” he says and I scoff.

“You can't care too much about yours if you joined the military” I shoot back.

“My father was decorated, he had me in mixed martial arts since I was five. I can take care of myself”

“So we have daddy to thank for this personality” I jest and he shakes his head instead of silencing me with a look.

“You really don't like it” he says, looking up at the sky.

“No I don’t, this is the most normal you’ve ever been with me since we met” I tell him.

“I’ve tried but you’re always running”

“Why were you so mean that first day?” I ask.

“It’s complicated,” he says, hardening.

“More complicated than using my trauma as a test?” I ask and he sighs.

“That wasn't my idea to push you and yes, that complicated” he affirms. “I was in a bad state, looked my worst and I found out my new recruit Lorence Cole is a woman,” he explains. 

“That’s a sexist admission”

“No. You’re my type Lorence. Cassandra knew that and didn’t tell me ahead of time. I was upset with her to make a point and short with you” he confesses and the way my cheeks burn im thankful for the nights forgiving lighting. Not was, not one of my preferences, you’re present tense my type.

“The next time your type walks in, try being kind. Most women don't like being barked at, frowned at, scolded. Do I need to continue?” I ask.

“I get the picture” he nods. Then there’s laughter down the beach and I see people laughing around a photograph.

“We should go see” I suggest getting up. I pat the sand off my dress and we make our way over to see caricature artists seated. 

“Come on, beautiful couple,” One of the women artists say.

“I don't want to” Richmond says motioning for me to sit alone.

“Not my boyfriend's bodyguard” I tell the woman in french and she smiles. Mischief lights in her eyes and I smile bracing for the worst.

“First time in Monaco?” she asks with a thick accent.

“Yes”

“Welcome! here for the races?” she asks.

“Yeah, a few friends wanted to check it out” I explain using my cover story and she continues drawing.

“Are you famous?” she asks.

“No” I laugh.

“Then why bodyguard?” she asks.

“He’s a friend who didn't want me out walking alone” I explain in french and she nods complimenting my speaking ability. I sit for another ten minutes and she stands finished. They count me down and when I get the photo I have to stop myself from laughing. I fold the photo immediately as the other artists cackle and pray Richmond hasn't seen it. If he didn't speak French too I’m sure he’d think I put her up to it. We leave the beach heading back on the path back to the accommodation when Richmond snatches it from my hand as I let my dress back down. He gets a full look of the photo of me looking like an angel in caricature form while he looks like an angry muscle man with ears so big they span to the margins. I giggle and he gives me a look of warning handing the drawing back. I’m surprised he doesn't rip it into pieces.

“Aside from the ears it's an accurate depiction of how scary your scowl is” I joke.

“Good to know” he mutters, the streets are more lively now and the party crowds are out. Leading the way gets too challenging. Richmond holds his hand back and I take it following him through the crows he can see over. He's a gentle guide parting the crowd for me with his size. My brain starts to run away with the information I’ve learned aided by the hand holding and a replay of the past few weeks. My realization shouldn't be as charming as it is. Richmond the decorated veteran and impeccably polished CEO has a crush … on me? He’s not to be played with, tall, handsome, well off ….. My boss. My thoughts hit a roadblock there. The uphill trek starts to become a battle and he crosses the street finding a cab stand. His French is impeccable as he orders us a cab barely fitting in the small European car with me. I get my hand back and find myself missing the contact. The ride back to the accommodation is short. When RIchmond and I clear the lobby he’s right I’m no longer worried about tomorrow or my work. This elevator ride is far less tense than last trip. 

“Thanks for walking me through my route” I tell him as he walks me from the elevator to my door. 

“No problem” he nods. “Last call is at noon if you want to see the parade and the royals otherwise you can leave at two” he reminds me of the schedule. I check my watch and see I have a lot of beauty rest to catch up on.

“Sounds good.” I nod heading in my room. I stop turning to face him. “Why don’t we start fresh tomorrow? My type is nice” I tell him and he gives me his first genuine smile.

“I’ll see you tomorrow Cole” 

“Good night Richmond.” I smile, shutting the door. I call Sin thankful for time differences and we talk for an hour about what it all means before I fall asleep.

Authors note: thanks for reading loves. things are heading up and these interactions are getting more and more fun to write. Are we here for the new developments?

click here to ✮ join taglist ✮ and be notified when new updates drop.

[lyriane]

(2.2k words short fic, again; based on the Peak of Truth, Despair Not Bond Story)

The Sage of Truth may have descended from the Peak of Truth, but the unknown Cookie before that had to ascend. To reach and grasp the pinnacle of Truth. To witness it in its finest.

Let us rewind the time, shall we?

Back to the time before the Sage of Truth was called by that title– before he could even be called the Sage of Truth. He couldn't accept being called that without his life’s greatest accomplishment.

And to attain that, one must reach the peak.

To say nothing of the trials and hardships that comes with the ascension would be too dismissive, but like with every Truth, it has to be unknown. Otherwise there would be no point seeking it, no?

When he finally reached the last steps to the peak, there were no heavenly light gracing him nor golden bells ringing harmoniously for his greatest achievement. Nothing at all. Did that disappoint him? Admittedly so, as it's simply a natural instinct to seek validation after such a deed, but not so much.

What truly drove him though; to keep trying, to go through many ordeals, was the thrill of seeking the Truth.

Are you surprised? Oh don't be.

It's always been fascinating how such basic instincts can drive any Cookie to the point of obsession. Desire, Greed, Love, Passion, and oh so many more. After all, aren't you also driven by curiosity right now?

Now that's mentioned, there was another thing aside from thrill-seeking. There's always curiosity as well. Of the years that have gone by, fleeting time as it is, there's been a constant within the endless change.

The Cookie that stood at the top of the Truth and never came down— the Hermit of Truth, the Truthless Recluse.

He wanted to meet that Cookie so badly. To see if the rumors are true, to appease his neverending curiosity, seeking the Truth in every way and form.

To meet someone who can understand him.

Yet what greeted him was nothing, nothing waited for him at the very peak of Truth.

"Stop pretending. You know all too well that there is nothing at the Peak of Truth.”

Is this truly the Truth that he has long sought for? Nothing? Nothing at all?

Eyes of yellow and blue brimmed with sorrow, despair curled around possessively, like tight noose.

“I, too, once made the same mistake, and for that, faced despair upon the Peak... There was no Truth expecting me. No Truth to save us all. And I cursed myself hundreds, thousands of times over for my folly.”

Liar. Deceiver.

There was something– no, someone at the Peak of Truth.

Would've been unnoticeable too, if he wasn't looking thoroughly for a speck of anything. Ironic, considering the Cookie’s bright white clothes. The Cookie’s stature looked small with their back turned, their clothing seemingly oversized on them.

“Hmm? Oh! My apologies, I thought I was alone here.” The Cookie finally turned around. Long golden locks of hair cascading down. A soft angelic smile greeting him.

Perhaps it was a good thing that the white Cookie's eyes were closed or else they would've seen the way he was gaping in surprise, completely shell shocked. Though unfortunately the silence from him was too obvious.

“Um..?” The white Cookie tilted their head in confusion, yet patiently waited for his response.

This.. This is definitely not the Truthless Recluse he has heard from the rumors.

He shook his head, trying to regain his sense of self. How embarrassing of him to lose composure in front of an audience!

“I apologize, this humble scholar was simply just dazzled by your beautiful appearance, good.. sir? ” He trailed off, looking at the Cookie in front of him. He couldn't tell. He just hoped that his words weren't taken as an offense by the other.

Luckily, the Cookie merely chuckled in response, even taking the compliment in stride. “Sir is fine, do not fret.”

“Though I must apologize again for not noticing you sooner. I am currently unable to see, for the staff I use as my aide is still being fixed at the moment.” The Cookie continued to softly speak, expressing himself in movements gentle and graceful.

He nodded, then quickly stopped in embarrassment. That explains a lot. He only now arrived here though, yet he didn't clear up the misunderstanding the other had. He was too curious about this enigmatic Cookie.

“That's completely reasonable. I can not fault you for that. I must ask, what is your name? If you don't mind me asking, of course.” He asked, respectfully, keeping his hand behind his back like a gentleman.

The beautiful Cookie chuckled again, surprisingly taking his respectful yet dramatic attitude, almost in a fond way. Then he bowed, playing along. “It seems I've forgotten my manners. My name is Pure Vanilla Cookie. Yours is?”

Pure Vanilla Cookie, he mouthed, testing. He almost didn't respond immediately, a little too awestruck if he had to admit. The name felt, familiar, somehow.

His name though? “Call me the Sage of Truth.” he announced, taking off his hat and bowing in return. The name rolled off his tongue effortlessly, sounding right and true.

Then he paused, momentarily feeling confusion as well as a growing sense of uneasiness. He wasn't called that, no one called him that, and he didn't have that title— Not yet.

Huh?

“Sage of Truth? Are you feeling alright?” A gentle melodious voice called, worrying for a stranger. Pure Vanilla’s hand was raised in front of him, as if wanting to hold him steady but was unable to accurately find his position

The Sage(?) shook his head, feeling off-centered, but he didn't show it. “Ah, no worries. I'm as perfectly fine as I could be!” He wouldn't admit it. Not in front of Pure Vanilla. Not in front of an audience.

Something is terribly wrong here.

Pure Vanilla didn't take his words at face value, didn't take it as the absolute truth. That seems wrong. Why is he not following the script? He still looked worried. The Sage was about to reassure him again, to lie—

“... Do you feel its influence too?” Pure Vanilla’s words shut his mouth closed. Influence? Of what, exactly? He didn't need to ask as Pure Vanilla thankfully elaborated his words.

“Here, time and space are intertwined. The future of the past and present coexist.” Pure Vanilla spoke in a wistful tone, as if fondly recalling a memory. Weirdly enough, it did feel like that. Everything seemed like it has happened before, here, yet it hasn't passed, not yet.

The Sage could not find the usual words he would say. In fact, what should he say in the face of such concept? It's the Truth. Pure Vanilla spoke of no lies. The Sage instinctively knew, and felt it too.

That Truth revealed the core of everything. Answered the familiarity, the distortion between time and memories, the feeling of not being himself— and Pure Vanilla Cookie’s presence at the Peak of Truth.

The Sage plopped down on the ground rather ungracefully, he couldn't keep himself afloat anymore. When did he start floating again? Ah no, don't question it. He sighed rather tiredly, perhaps the whole ordeal of climbing a seemingly endless peak has finally caught up to him.

Pure Vanilla Cookie only chuckled, only becoming at ease after hearing the Sage’s sigh. He too, sat on the ground, gracefully sitting down in a seiza position. Not even a single speck of dirt staining his white robes. How envious.

“.. This is all really confusing.” The Sage of Truth finally admitted, his lips thinning in annoyance. Pure Vanilla only chuckled in response, that traitor.

The Sage’s face soured, pinpointing the unusual feeling, the feeling of betrayal(?) that he shouldn't be feeling that intensely at the very moment. He shook his head, again, trying to keep his mind back on the track.

This anomaly intrigued him, of course, but by the Witches, is it so frustratingly mind-boggling. How is he meant to keep a calm enough focus to thoroughly analyze this if it kept influencing his mind, personality, thoughts, his everything down to his very soul?

Ugh, he shuddered, it was rather invasive and violating now that he thought about it. Is this really the Truth he worked so hard to get to? Then he glanced at Pure Vanilla, who was just patiently humming to himself.

Does he feel that too? Those lapses of insanity, disorientation, and feeling so unlike yourself? Thank the Witches that his memories haven't gotten influenced yet– or maybe it already has and he just hasn't noticed? Ugh, how annoying!

Perhaps it's just the Sage of Truth feeling this way. Only him. After all, he can notice it now. The sense of distortion around Pure Vanilla Cookie, he wasn't meant to be here. He's not from this time.

“.. Do you think I'll be able to meet you?” The Sage couldn't help but ask, some of the words left unsaid. His voice was placid, void of the dramatics. He has to ask as many questions as he can before Pure Vanilla goes back, he reasoned to himself.

Pure Vanilla hummed, already knew what the words that were left unsaid. The Sage of Truth solemnly stared at the broad night sky. The stars shone brighter here, at the Peak of Truth. Nothing else was brighter than the one beside him though.

“I'm sure you will meet me again.” Pure Vanilla softly whispered in the dead of night. He looked away but the Sage of Truth listened closely like it was the Truth he has always sought for.

“You and I are meant to be together.”

"Stop teaching about the Truth."

How bold of them to demand such a thing.

Yet the Sage of Truth could not help but entertain it anyways. It's always better to hear out demands, he was interested in what kind of reasons this visitor of his had to say such words.

"Why must I?" he asked instead, probing for answers.

The guest stepped closer. The ray of light illuminated his visitor’s face, revealing the dark robes and shadows hidden within. It couldn't erase the golden locks of hair, the gold and blue eyes, and the oh so dreadfully familiar face.

The Sage of Truth could not stop himself from exclaiming delightedly, like he was greeting a beloved old friend of his.

‘Pure Vanilla Cookie, I've finally met you.’

"Aaahh, if it isn't the Truthless Recluse himself. To what do I owe such a pleasure?” is what the Sage of Truth said instead.

He continued to speak, ignoring the true words he wanted to say out loud. "It is said that the Truthless Recluse never descends from the Peak of Truth... How may this humble scholar be of service to you?"

The Recluse's eyes brimmed with sorrow, the sight caused the Sage of Truth to clench his fist tightly, restraining himself. Yet the words of the Recluse struck him more.

"Stop pretending. You know all too well that there is nothing at the Peak of Truth.”

‘Liar. Deceiver.’ rang in his head. ‘You were there.’ he didn't say. ‘Don't you remember?’ That would be pointless to ask.

What did you find when you reached the Peak of Truth? The Sage of Truth wondered as he looked at the Truthless Recluse. Did you truly find nothing? Or are you lying, like the Cookie of Deceit that you are?

Are you really the Pure Vanilla Cookie I met at the Peak of Truth?

The Sage of Truth did not ask. He knew the answer already.

He only pointed upwards and said, "Alas, the Truth is imperfect by design... and yet, one must not turn away from the light of one's own Truth.”

The visage of Pure Vanilla’s gentle smile overlapped with the Truthless Recluse’s sorrowful look. Unsightly. Imperfect, and yet the Sage of Truth could not turn away from his Truth.

And with a welcoming gesture, he added, "Not unlike yourself whose Truth is to protect others from anguish.”

You are still the same.

Yesterday's visitor was long gone. The Sage of Truth stared upwards, reminiscing that time at the Peak of Truth. It was so long ago.. He could still remember it clearly though. Further drove him to spread the Truth to seekers, so he could meet him, once again.

‘You already knew who I was and who'd you be, didn't you, Pure Vanilla Cookie?’

The Sage of Truth let out a sigh, it felt like it was merely yesterday when Pure Vanilla was beside him, chuckling so tenderly. Yet the perfect image he had of Pure Vanilla was stained by the Truthless Recluse, like ink dipped into clear waters.

Idly, he traced his fingers on his Souljam and remembered the same shape on Pure Vanilla, just tilted upside down and minus the slit of eye. Everything.. All the questions he had over that day.. It all clicked, when he finally met the Truthless Recluse.

Fitting, since the Truthless Recluse was who he sought to meet from the very start.

The Sage of Truth wondered, If Pure Vanilla and the Truthless Recluse are merely counterparts… Those intense feelings, the fondness that Pure Vanilla had for him..

Who was the Sage of Truth’s counterpart?

‘Was it me, who you had met at the Peak of Truth, Truthless Recluse?’

Did he want to know?

Did he dare to seek the Truth like always?

The Sage of Truth smiled. He found his Truth. “We'll meet again,” he promised.

“For you and I are bound.”

[tashacee]

you told me to send an ask on tumblr about bean and the hero's aspect so here i am i'd love to see what you do with that

the poor bean is NOT gonna be happy

Aspects of a Bean

(Written for the @lu-community-write-a-thon)

Link put on the Hero’s Aspect once.

Just once.

He was too nervous when he first got it. He was on his journey and busy and he wasn’t sure what it did and it all seemed like too much. Even after his journey he let it sit in his slate. The note said that it contained the soul of a pat Hero! He couldn’t just throw it on like a casual party outfit!

But…

One day. One day long after it was over, when Hyrule was at peace and he didn’t have to fight every day…

One day. Curiosity got the better of him and he locked the door of his little hut on the plateau and shooed out all but the most resolved of cats (Mr Tubbs), and he pulled out the Aspect’s Belt.

It was beautiful. The carving of the jade, the intricate ceramics, the enamel- it was an incredible artefact and honestly, should probably be preserved for all of Hyrule to see. Zelda would like to see it, he was sure, to examine it. He just… hadn’t told her about it.

He wasn’t sure why. It felt private, somehow, in some way that he couldn’t quite articulate. He carefully clipped the belt around his waist.

The change was immediate. One moment he was himself, small and nervous, in thick, loose clothes and a big, tight, mask, and the next-

Oh no. Oh nonono, this was not good. This was bad. Wild didn’t like this, didn’t like it at all-

He reached for his belt, determined to take it off immediately, but before he could, something opened up underneath him, and the world went dark around him, swallowing him whole.

-

“Monster, five o’clock!”

Warriors jumped at Legend’s shout, looking around as he drew his sword. They had just been out getting some firewood but this was not anywhere familiar to them, and none of them trusted the apparent peace of their surroundings. These woods were too calm, too pleasant. There had to be a monster camp around here somewhere, the Chain simply didn’t get lucky like this.

And sure enough, there it was. Two days of peace in an attempt to lull them into a false sense of security, no doubt, but now Warriors could see it. A huge, hiking beast, kind of like some of the moblins they had, but also totally unfamiliar to him. He could just see it through the trees, its strange, twisted body, its long snout. It had fur in a few, uneven patches, but most of its body seemd covered in thick, mottled scars. Clearly this beast had been in no small number of fights, then.

Warriors switched to his bow and drew it.

The creature jolted, one remaining ear twitching towards the sound of the veteran’s shout as it turned to face them.

Warriors loosed his arrow. It whizzed past the creature, just missing its head as he got a good look at its face.

Hylia above. To say that the thing had been in a few fights was an understatement. If the rest of its body was twisted with scars, its face was destroyed. Half of its snout was gone, long, sharp fangs exposed to the world, its red mane not growing at all around its ruined left ear, its eye permanently narrowed  by the misshaping of its skin.

Warriors had never seen a monster so badly scarred. Monsters weren’t usually keen on healing and care for their wounded - that this one had lived-

The creature shrieked and stumbled backwards, landing hard on its rump and scrambling away from them, eyes wide and wild. 

The four of them advanced, but something about this didn’t feel right. What kind of monster fell over instead of fighting? What kind of monster tried to flee?

Wars slung his bow back over his back and drew his sword once more, moving forwards.

The creature let out a small bark and - and reached up, trying to? To - to cover its face? Its maw? And it scrambled up. It had long legs and a damn tail, so when it tried it could move fast. In an instant it had turned and dashed off, vanishing into the forest.

Warriors held out a hand, stopping his brothers from chasing after it.

“What the hell, Cap?” Legend grumbled.

Wars shook his head. “It-” he broke off, staring at where the creature had vanished. “It’s not a monster. I don’t think. It was scared.”

Four nodded along. “It had blue eyes, not red.” he added. “And it wasn’t armed. It seemed as surprised to see us as we were to see it.”

Warriors hummed, but before he could speak was interrupted by a sound from behind him, where Sky had been standing.

“Uh… guys?” he said softly. He had drawn the master sword and had turned his head down towards its blade. “I- yeah. Warriors is right.” Slowly, he re-sheathed his sword, turning towards them and holding out his right hand. It was already badly scarred with lightning burns, but there was a fresh injury on his palm, lightly pink with the shape of diamonds pressed into it. The shape of the decorations on the Master Sword’s hilt.

“He’s not a monster.” Sky continued. He couldn’t look at them, blind as he was, but he was turned to them with an intensity all the same. “He’s one of us. He’s a Link.”

-

Needless to say, they all felt sick that they had mistaken a new brother for a monster. At first Warriors had tried to run after him, but he was already long gone and likely wouldn;t take kindly to being chased again so soon after they had literally tried to shoot him.

Warriors felt awful about that.

So instead, they headed back to camp with the news that they had found a new brother, and that he looked… less than hylian and that they may have tried to attack him as a monster.

Poor guy.

Warriors couldn’t get his face out of his head. That gaping maw, the twisted eye, the burns the whole way across his body. How could anyone live through something like that? How could someone live with scars that bad - they must have pulled and ached almost constantly. And then how he had tried to cover himself before fleeing.

Warriors felt awful. He hoped that he could get a chance to apologise. The guy clearly had been through a lot.

They ended up using Sky’s dowsing ability to search for him. They may not have had anything belonging to him but he bore the spirit of courage, and it was easy enough to search for that.

Well.

Easy enough to search.

Not easy enough to find though.

Warriors was honestly impressed. The guy had to have been seven feet tall and he had a tail. How he had managed to avoid being found for so long was no mean feat.

But of course, they did find him. In the end. He was a big guy, and once they started to find the broken plants and crushed grass where he had run through, they knew that they were on the right track. And then when they found the fallen tree, hollowed out by age, when they heard the soft, terrified sobs, they knew that they were in the right place.

The Chain stopped and exchanged glances, unsure of what to do. Only the original four had actually seen him, but they didn’t exactly seem like the ideal people to go and talk to him right now. Twi was probably the most outgoing but he relied on sign and they didn’t know if the guy would be facing them or if he even knew Hylian sign to begin with.

Wind was an absolute no-go. He meant well, but he was thirteen, and sometimes said the dumbest shit.

Time sighed and knelt, taking off his sword and setting it aside before crawling closer to the hollow.

“Hello?” he called gently. “So, funny story. My name’s Link. And so are all of my companions. And I think you might be too. Can I come in and talk?”

Warriors was standing only a little behind Time, and could just about see into the darkness of the log. To the huddled, shaking figure, curled up in a ball and facing away from them. It - he - keened, shivering all over, and Time raked a hand through his hair.

“I-” he said. “I know you had a bad experience earlier. My brothers- they made a terrible mistake. And they’re sorry. They’re right here, and-”

Another keen, this one in terror. Warriors felt his stomach lurch, and before he knew what he was doing, he had knelt beside Time, peering in.

“I-” he said. “I was the one who shot at you.” he could feel the guilt pool in his gut as he said it, could see his new brother freeze in place. “I- I dshouldn’t have. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry, Link. I can never take it back, but- but I want to help.”

He took a shuddering breath, and then in a moment of inspiration, began to unwind his scarf. The man - the boy? - in front of him was hardly clothed, but judging by his reaction, this was not his preferred state. He must have been brought here unawares, and Warriors wouldn’t have that.

“I- I’ve got a scarf. I’m holding it out, right behind you. If you reach back you can grab it, use it to - um. Whatever you want.”

The boy took a deep breath, then another. He was still trembling, but now a single, clawed hand reached around, feeling for the scarf. When he found it he snatched it away, pulling it around to his front.

It took a few minutes for him to wrap it around himself. Warriors was glad of how big his scarf was in this moment, because the poor guy seemed to not know what he wanted to cover the most. His head and face was his first attempt, but then as he made to turn he glanced down and saw his ruined torso and whined again, pulling at the cloth of the scarf to try and make it somehow bigger.

“Oh!” Time gasped. “Oh, right - here! Take my cloak! You can use it to cover yourself too!”

Sky gasped where he stood, understanding what was going on. “You can take my sailcloth too! Maybe that can help?”

Before long they had all donated something. The new Link seemed more than a little surprised to suddenly have so many lengths of fabric and spare garments thrust at him, but he didn’t protest. Within a few minutes he was wrapped up in a bizarre myriad of cloths and fully covered, and only then did he turn to face them. Only his teary eyes and long red hair were visible and he still seemed to shrink in on himself, drawing his arms in close, tucking his tail in around his legs. Warriors felt his heart break.

“Hi, Link.” He said, his voice maybe a little hoarse. “I’m Link, but I go by Warriors. We’re gonna look out for you now. It’s gonna be okay.”

-

Wild, as they named their brother, was a gentle, kind boy. He was nervous around others, and though some of that was due to being the only… whatever he was … in a world of hylians, the Chain could tell that most of it was due to whatever incident in his past had left him so badly scarred. They never mentioned it, of course, and instead welcomed him in with open arms. He was their brother, after all, and they loved him.

He laughed with them. He fought with them. He turned out to be an amazing cook and took over the making of meals each night, which no one complained about. 

He didn’t have to go along in an outfit made of scarves for long. Time had a few spare clothes that only took a little altering to fit him, and he didn’t mind that they made them loose. Hyrule wove together some dried grasses to make a mask that could cover the hole in his cheek and offered him a bag of salves for his scars. And then when they went to Ordon, Uli specifically tailored several outfits for him, much to his embarrassment and very obvious joy. They all knew by then that Wild loved pretty things, after all.

And little by little, he opened up to them. They couldn’t really communicate easily, not with the language barrier between their signs, but they made it work. They got to know him. They came to love him. Not just as their brother in courage, but as himself. As Wild. As Link.

And more than that - Wild surprised himself one day by realising that he loved them too. He trusted them too.

That they were a family, and somehow, wonderfully-

He was alright with that.

[confusedhummingbird]

I don’t understand when I see people saying that DickKory was toxic. Like, Dick was more reserved at first, but during their relationship, he learned to open up precisely because of the sense of freedom Kory gave him, and that was what he loved most about her. And then when I look at DickBabs, there are panels where Babs watches Dick through cameras and gets jealous when other women get close to him. Like, if DickKory is toxic, then what is DickBabs?

Yeah the only real toxicity I see is his behavior on Tamaran when Kory was getting married (Which he was literally under mind control by Brother Blood) but they talked that over and worked past it.

I've seen people say that Dick is controlling of Kory. But the only thing he really tries to change from her is her being willing to kill. And I'm sorry if she's gonna be a hero on Earth she can't kill. Not only because it's illegal but it would reflect badly on all the Titans and honestly tell me would you feel safe with an alien who says she's a hero but will kill whoever she deems as a serious enough threat. I'd be terrified. Dick only wanted her to not kill (Also probably wear clothes when in public but again that's a legal issue anyway even without his personal feelings) anything else she wanted to do she could do. She was literally a super star model who canonically did nude shoots before (And not just Mirage disguised as her she states she's done them before on her terms) One of the things Dick admires most about Kory is her freedom, why would he try to control that freedom if he admired it so much?

Plus even if you see that as an issue Dick even admits himself he may have been wrong (I don't think he was but still a good panel either way)

Were Dick and Kory perfect? No of course not. No couple real or fictional is perfect. But they were a couple who were honestly pretty healthy they listened and communicated. When they had issues they talked them out because they love each other and wanted to be together and work their issues out.

[amanda-519]

Ugh, I wrote like so many paragraphs but I had to put my phone down and when I opened Tumblr again my post was GONE. Not even in drafts so I have to write this AGAIN.

but, yes, I agree with you I'm also a huge Cecil apologist

I can understand completely why Cecil did what he did. Nolan almost took over the PLANET and Mark has the potential to be as strong as Nolan is. Of course the director of the GDA would try and come up with countermeasures!!!

.... But I'm also a Mark apologist. Like, imagine being Mark. Imagine growing up and having Nolan be gentle with you, be kind, be supportive. Mark grew up believing that his dad would never hurt him.

In season 1 when Nolan punched Mark, Mark was surprised. As he's on the ground he sounds like he can't believe his dad would actually hurt him. And later actually admits that he was surprised (and scared) that his dad hurt him.

Mark believed that his dad would never hurt him. That he would never hurt anyone.

After Nolan kills the Immortal in front of him, Mark immediately thinks that his dad is being mind controlled. His dad would never kill anyone. His dad LOVES him, his dad loves his mom.

And Nolan betrayed and broke that trust by killing all of those people, and almost killing Mark.

I feel like Mark kinda saw Cecil as a father figure, in a way. He was an older man in a position of power. He was wiser, more knowledgeable, and powerful.

Cecil was abrasive, stern, and a bit controlling. But I think Mark needed that. Nolan was shady, he could turn off his emotions. He could be at the guardians funeral and call them friends, and then come home and call them coworkers and not seem sad at their deaths.

Mark needed someone he felt like would tell him how it is. And I think he looked at Cecil for that.

Which is why Mark argued to work for him. To be on call. Why he trained with Cecil (like how he trained with his father).

Mark believed that Cecil wasn't like his father, on some level. Cecil worked for the GDA. He worked to PROTECT people.

I don't think that Mark's reaction to Cecil working with Darkwing or Sinclair was entirely because they were murderers, I think it was also because, in Mark's mind, he betrayed him.

Mark believed that Cecil was good, that he wouldn't hurt anyone, that he wouldn't work with bad guys (like how his father is working for the viltrumite empire), that he wouldn't hurt Mark (like how Nolan hurt Mark).

But then Cecil did.

Like imagine being Mark in that situation. Growing up thinking the world of your father, that he's a hero, that he loves you, that he loves your mom.

Only for Nolan to betray Mark so badly.

And then enters Cecil. An older man in a position in power, who has never been anything but nice (if a bit abrasive). (Remember, Mark didn't know Cecil was willing to let the giant tentacle thing kill him along with his dad)

Nolan helped Mark. He put him back on the field, made him feel important.

And then Cecil turned around and worked with murders and hurt him. Just like his dad hurt him.

But I can also understand why Cecil did what he did. I bet Cecil feels responsibility for what Nolan did, that he didn't stop Nolan before, that he didn't put in place countermeasures.

Cecil knew that Nolan was lying when Nolan showed up. But he hoped for the best. He was optimistic (naive) about Nolan. That he would help. And Nolan did, for 20 years. And then Nolan betrayed them. Betrayed him.

There were no countermeasures in place for Nolan. The giant tentacle thing they brought out was something they discovered recently. Even though Cecil knew that Nolan was lying when he showed up on Earth, he didn't try to think of a way to take Nolan down.

And it's not like it would have been hard to find a way, the screeching sound is a weakness. And I bet in 20 years Nolan came across something akin to that. But Cecil wasn't looking, he probably didn't pay attention to it.

And I bet that thought keeps him up. The fact that Cecil knew Nolan was lying and yet didn't try harder to think of a way to put Nolan down.

Nolan betrayed both Cecil and Mark, and that betrayal hurt both of them deeply.

I think both Cecil and Mark both, on a subconscious level, saw each other as a "do-over" for Nolan.

For Cecil, he saw Mark as a fresh viltrumite (like how Nolan was a fresh viltrumite when he first came to earth). Except this time Cecil is going to keep Mark on a shorter leash. He's going to put in countermeasures from day one (Cecil put the chip in Mark's brain right after Mark finished fighting his dad).

Cecil felt so out of control with Nolan that he wasn't willing to do the same with Mark.

I think Cecil pulled out the switch so fast because Cecil didn't like the idea of losing even the smallest bit of control of Mark. He was scared, sure, but he was also scared that if he didn't act now, that if he didn't get Mark back into control now, that this would be another Nolan situation.

For Mark, he saw Cecil as an older man he could trust. That was like his father in some ways (powerful, more experienced) but different in others (abrasive, says what he wants).

So when Cecil turned out to be working with murders Mark freaked out because he felt like Cecil broke his trust (like how his father broke his trust).

In conclusion, I can understand why both of them did what they did, lol.

ngl I’m a Cecil apologist

S3 SPOILERS BELOW THE CUT

like I mean come ON he tried so many times to get Mark to chill and talk and at least respect what Cecil was trying to do. Like no a nineteen year old doesn’t get to single-handedly determine moral high ground just because he’s superboy.

Mark needs to be able to have huge unconquerable disagreements without resorting to violence. Or menace and the fact he can’t check how scary being flown after is to Cecil is giving those six right men who don’t realize yelling at women is INSANELY scary to them for systematic reasons.

the fact nobody in marks life except maybe his mom can go “Mark stfu and sit down we need to talk like adults” without having to FRY HIS BRAIN is scary. Cecil’s job is to keep the world safe. Mark just made it very clear he’s willing to exploit his supernatural abilities when he has a conflict of opinion. That’s not good. What if Mark, like naive young adults do, discovers political extremism? Or idfk, Vilrtumite ideology. Who saves earth when its protector disagrees with the people he’s trying to protect? Who keeps the invincible in check?

[aprillikesthings]

So I think about Catra and Adora's first time a lot.

Like, okay: first of all, they've wanted each other for how long? How long have they both been lying to themselves and/or other people about how badly they desire each other? I'm sure it started when they were teenagers (ha, and I love how many canon-based fics mention this, that at some point the locker room/showers became a source of mutual, unspoken torture), but at least they were friends then, able to rough-house a bit, and Catra could sleep at Adora's feet.

But then The Sword happens and they spend multiple years apart--and still unable to resist chasing each other in fights. Because fighting is still better than not seeing each other at all, right? But then the portal happens, and they stop even seeing each other.

And those weeks after the Cat gets Saved, the start of them flirting and teasing that's not hidden in taunts and fighting ("did you just jump in fire for me?"), and now there's tons of casual touching ("yeah Adora, concentrate!") but Does it mean something else? Does it? Does it? DOES IT? The agony of not knowing, the risk of being wrong--we even see Catra have that meltdown about it!

The relief and joy of finding their love and desire reciprocated!!!

BUT

I know some people think it takes them weeks or even months to work up to having sex, and I get why. I know I'm in the "it was a few days, tops" camp. But I understand why people disagree.

Because holy shit, the combo of "I've wanted you for as long as I've been capable of wanting" and "our first kiss saved the universe," that just puts so much pressure on their first times being good!

First times are stressful enough!! Do they want this? Am I any good at it? Is this how they like it? Is this how I like it? How do I ask for them to do something different? Is my body what they were expecting or hoping for? What if I'm so nervous I can't enjoy it? What if I take too long to come?

So for Catra and Adora it's also "what if I've wanted this for this long, and then it's Bad/I do it wrong/she doesn't like it/we're not good together"

But also "what if our first kiss saved the universe....and then everything after that sucks"

Add Catra's fear around vulnerability and Adora's desperate desire to please while never thinking of herself and things can get tricky! We can be honest about that! They're both going to struggle with wanting things, with asking for them.

Which is why I think the two most likeliest scenarios are: One, "impulsively go for it the moment they get enough time alone," just to push through that fear all at once--but also because if things are in fact good right away, and then the next thing is good, and the next thing--I just can't see them stopping.

(It's also why there's just SO MANY fics where their first time is "kissing that gets desperate and leads to grinding on each other's thighs," because god forbid they not be in physical contact with as much of each other's bodies as possible)

Or two, working up to things paaaainfully slowly because they're so nervous, and at each step going "okay this is good, we can just keep doing this for a while"

Besides, let's be honest: it is fun to imagine them just making out for an hour lol

All that said! I do think they once they've had sex a few times and get comfortable, they'll get relaxed and playful about it. And then they're not going to be able to keep their hands off each other for a while, aaahaha

Anyway. Here's a long-ass but great meta post I didn't write about how She-Ra is an entire cartoon about queer desire that's still appropriate for kids.

[themalhambird]

Rop Ladies Week Day 1: Fix It! tw: discussion of/reference to canon-typical gaslighting & torture

Mirdania did not fall. Eregion did not fall. Eregion will heal, and Mirdania did too.

for @verecunda, who replied to my call for Mirdania prompts with "Mirdania hanging out with Galadriel. Or Dwarves! Mirdania and Disa being friends?"

One final heave, and the Glanduin broke free. Water too long restrained roared in triumph, and rushed forth to reclaim its banks, and Mirdania felt- for the first time since trying on that accurséd attempt at a ring- like a little weight had been lifted from her shoulders as opposed to yet another thing being piled on. 

From her left comes the pop of a cork leaving a bottle. Mirdania turns slightly, and finds Princess Disa passing her an open- and…slightly smoking? glass bottle. “Dwarvish cider,” she says with satisfaction. “Narvi’s special brew- he had Durin send some down for the lads to mark a job well completed- I brought it up with the lunch.”

Indeed- a little further up the river (the rushing, flowing river) the gaggle of miners from Khazad-dûm who’d spent their last few days working to get the dam cleared were swarming the cart of bread and cheeses and cold meats Disa had brought up earlier, and moments later there was loud whooping, and several more pops! as the cider was also discovered. Disa patted a bundle next to her. “I already rescued ours,” she says conspiratorially. “You’ve got time to stay and eat?”

Mirdania takes a swig from the bottle. Narvi’s cider tastes like pure lemonade. She doesn’t, not really; she only came up river this morning to confirm that the city walls were shored up against the water and the river bank definitely cleared of any dropped weapons…and bodies. Ost-in-Edhil is rebuilding; they’re making progress- but it’s slow. Somehow Mirdania’s been one of the people coordinating efforts- there’s the High King, and Lord Elrond of course- but Lord Elrond is frequently caught up in the Halls of Healing, the High King has more demands on his time than either his herald or herself, and at the end of the day, Mirdania is the one who lives in Eregion. Mirdania was the one to-

She takes another swig of cider to shut down the thought. “I have time,” she says, because the river is beautiful and the sun is shining and there’s work to be done, but she’s exhausted. The work will go better if she’s at least a little rested. “I’m glad,” she says, “That I stayed to watch this. I’d intended to go straight back, but the foreman invited me to watch and it…all the gratitude in the world could not be sufficient for what Eregion owes to Khazad-dûm.” And for what I owe you personally, Mirdania thinks. Durin had returned to the mountain soon after the battle- King Durin was said to be badly injured, and the Prince’s duties called him away. But no sooner had the Prince gone up the mountain, the Princess had come down from it- with supplies, with extra workers, and with an organizational zeal and offer of personal friendship that had somehow managed to keep Mirdania from drowning in the sheer, overwhelming volume of everything that there was to do. 

“Well,” Guessing the bent of Mirdania’s thoughts, Disa blushes a little, and waves dismissively to try and display her embarrassment at the gratitude. “Ost-in-Edhil has been a good neighbour. It’s in our interests for it to be able to be so again.” And then, carefully- as though what she’s about to ask wasn’t the chief reason she had made her way up to the river to bring food to her workers and to check on her newest elf friend: “How is Lord Celebrimbor?”

Mirdania stiffens a little. She lowers her drink. She plucks aimlessly at the blades of grass beneath her. “Alive,” she says. “Awake. Other than that…I don’t know.”

“Narvi says he’s been asking for you,” Disa says, taking a sip of her own drink. Elrond, too, but if Mirdania takes the interference badly, Narvi’s stout enough to take the brunt of any anger. Disa’s not sure that Elrond is, at the moment. “He also says you haven’t gone.”

Silence, for a moment. And then:

“Narvi is a gossip,” Mirdania says, more sharply than she intends to. She throws her blades of grass to the wind , sighs, and says: “If I said I’d merely been too busy to go, would you believe me?”

“If I thought you wanted to be believed.”

Mirdania exhales, and clenches her fists. Disa shifts closer to her, nudging the elf with her knee and says, quietly: “It’s alright to be angry with him. Lord Celebrimbor. Even if everything’s Sauron’s fault, ultimately, you can still be angry at Celebrimbor for being taken in. Aule knows I’m still angry with Durin’s father and he’s even less at fault for the whole mess with the rings.”

“I’m not angry with Celebimbor,” Mirdania says quietly. “I was angry with him, when the city was under attack and he just…but I lost the right to stay angry when I- and I lost the desire to when- when I saw how Annatar- how Sauron- had left him…” she trails off, feeling faintly sick at even alluding to what she’d seen whilst helping Elrond break  into the forge-turned-prison-cell. 

“He wouldn’t be like that,” Disa says gently. “If you went to him now. He’s all cleaned and bandaged up, in nice rooms. No rubble and probably no blood in sight.”

“I know,” and she did know, logically, although convincing her heart…but the fear of how Celebrimbor might look was not, really, the barrier- was it? Three days, he’d been awake for long enough periods to be deemed conscious; several times he had, apparently, asked either for Mirdania or asked after her…and Mirdania always intended to, later, but she hadn’t yet, because, because…

The beautiful face, the golden hair glowing with a soft light rose before Mirdania’s mind’s eye. “I’m not angry with Celebrimbor,” She repeats softly. “But the Lady Galadriel has barely left his side since his waking, and I- I am furious with her!” The pieces fall into place like tumblers in an opened lock; like the Glanduin, everything suddenly bursts free. “If I go to see him, and she’s there, I’ll say things. Awful, horrible things, and it will distress him- but she knew, Disa, she knew who Halbrand was before she left Eregion- Elrond confirmed it- and she didn’t say! She just- throws some cryptic message- as though Lord Celebrimbor isn’t the most trusting- as though Eregion wasn’t founded on the notion of second chances, and of not turning away anyone in need of a refuge! She said nothing, and she left us all in danger, and he told me I looked like her!” It comes out in a gasp, hot tears spilling suddenly down her cheeks. Before Mirdania knows what is happening, she’s sobbing out months of stress and worry and more than that- she’s sobbing out the heartbreak she’s been obstinate in refusing to acknowledge. And she’s fallen sideways- she’s in Disa’s lap, the dwarf’s strong arms holding her, soothing her like a child, and Mirdania repeats, like a drowned man gasping for air, “He told me I looked at her, and it made me think he admired me. It made me fall in love with him! How can I face her? How can I see Lady Galadriel, and demand she grant me access to Lord Celebrimbor- her kinsman!- when I put him in chains- I did it! I put chains on his wrists, and I left him to be tortured, because Sauron told me I was almost as pretty as her! When she told us not to trust him, but didn’t tell us why, and Celebrimbor ignored her- because I encouraged it!”

She is angry at Galadriel- she is still, under all the regret and the pity and her own guilt, a little angry  Celebrimbor- but above all, Mirdania is angry at herself. And she cries, and cries, and cries, and Disa holds her, and comforts her, and lets her be angry and miserable and grief-stricken until everything is all cried away

***

Later, Disa accompanies her back to the city. There’s an atmosphere of quiet jubilation; there are children hanging over the more stable ramparts staring  down at the resurrected Glanduin, pointing and shouting with glee at every ripple that might be a fish or a dragonfly,  and it seems as if some of the city’s soul is creeping back in along with the background babble of the water. Mirdania is wrung out- exhausted- but lighter, so much lighter- from the weeping, as much as from the undamming of the river. Disa sticks with her, like a lantern guiding through the darkness, until she gets to the entrance of the small set of rooms the healers have Lord Celebrimbor in. 

“You’ll be fine,” she says briskly. “In with you. I’d come in myself, but I’ve dinner with ; Elrond- appointments with friends seem the only way to get that boy to eat, at present.”

“Go,” Mirdania says, half laughing at the notion of Disa, who is younger than Narvi, calling Elrond Peredhil- who’s childhood predates Eregion’s founding- boy. But then, all things being relative- Princess Disa is an accomplished politician and a master of one of the dwarves’ most sacred arts; she is a wife and she is a mother, and in all likelihood before too long she will be Queen Under The Mountain. At any rate, she is wiser than Mirdania. So Mirdania drops to her knee, before the Princess can take leave, and lays her hand on Disa’s shoulder. “Thank you,” she says seriously, looking the other woman in the eye. “Thank you for everything, Disa.” And then, rising, she adds with a small, mischievous smirk, “Tell Lord Elrond that if he doesn’t clear his plate decently well, the Mirdain-i-Gwaith may have to recompense Prince Durin for all his assistance by telling him of the single time his friend tried his hand at forging.”

Disa’s eyes gleam. “Now that would be recompense indeed,” she says, and Mirdania, still half laughing, makes herself seize the door handle waiting for her, and step into Lord Celebrimbor’s rooms. 

Her hard-won ease falters when she turns and finds herself in a small sitting room- with Lady Galadriel in one of the  far chairs, a glass in hand and a pitcher of wine with a further selection of glasses on a low table- along with a basket of rolls and a dish of butter. The Commander’s eyes, with the same beautiful, ancient light as the Lord of Eregion’s- seem to bore into Mirdania’s soul. “I-” Mirdania swallows. “I came to see- but if he’s sleeping, I-”

“He’s not,” Lady Galadriel says. Something eases in her expression, and she offers up a smile. “Tylepë- Celebrimbor- wanted to bathe, I’ve been banished while Narvi and Enerion assist him. You’re welcome to wait with me-they won’t be long.”

Mirdania goes to the chair nearest the door- and consequently, also furthest away from Galadriel, and tentatively sits down. 

“Mirdania, is it not?” Galadriel says, and Mirdania’s skin prickles with dread as she realises that the Commander is going to talk. She nods and keeps her eyes fixed on the floor. “You’ve done well keeping the city together,” Galadriel says, “from what I hear- before the siege was broken, as well as after it.”

Accept the praise, Mirdania thinks to herself. Pretend you’re too shy, too much in awe, to make much conversation and she’ll drop it- “Not well enough,” her traitor tongue is saying, running too far ahead of her mind. Maybe it’s the bottle of Narvi’s cider that she’d finished after crying on Disa for an hour or so- that’s what Mirdania’s going to blame at any rate. “If I’d done better, I would have seen Sauron for what he was. At the very least, I would have believed Celebrimbor- who I have known since I was a child, and trusted him before a flattering stranger.”

“And if I had done better,” Galadriel says in rejoinder, “I’d have run the flattering stranger through the moment I realised who he was.” She sighs. “Ah, but he wasn’t really a stranger by then- was he? And it seemed, in that moment, as though-perhaps- there was really a chance…”

She trails off. It seems to have delved into rather a rhetorical statement, but Mirdania can’t help tentatively adding: “Like it was all a mistake? Like everything was just…a misunderstanding, an error in an equation that could be fixed, made right…and the lies were all crafted from truth. He was a Maia. Lord Celebrimbor was not well, he hadn’t been for a long time, and I’m still not entirely sure how much was- how much was his influence, and how much was merely him being overworked, and overburdened with care…”

“He never actually said he was King of the Southlands,” Galadriel says quietly. “I needed him to be, so badly, that all he had to do was let me fill in my own gaps, and not contradict my conclusions in any way but what seemed a reluctance on his part to admit the truth.”

“Bastard,” Mirdania grumbles, dragging a hand through her hair, and Lady Galadriel laughs. 

“Bastard,” she concurs, raising her glass in salute. “Let me get you some wine…”

@ropladies

[yukidragon]

if Shaun is no longer a religious person, does he detest Ian more now, how hypocritical ian is especially if Ian planned proposing to Alice?

I'd say it's hard for Shaun to dislike Ian more than he already does just for how badly he hurt Alice. There are certainly plenty of personal reasons besides what happened to her that rubbed this cat daddy the wrong way as well.

Content Warning: this post contains talk about religious trauma, weaponized religion, childhood trauma, cheating, toxic family relationships, toxic romantic relationships, codependency, death of close family members, grief, mourning, and other such heavy topics.

Also just a quick reminder that these headcanons are what currently apply to Sunshine in Hell. I'm still in the process of building up the characters and their backstories for my personal telling of this tale so things might change later as I develop them more. The more I play with the characters, the better I get to know them and allow them to grow.

Shaun's Family and Religion

Shaun was never a religious person, not even as a kid. His exposure to it was mostly from his grandparents on his mother's side and his uncle Abraham Cofer, who're very devout Christians. Religion was a complicated thing for his family well before he was even born.

His mother Leticia Cofer distanced herself from her family when she married Shaun's father, Antwon Durand. Leticia became disillusioned with the particularly overzealous brand of Christian faith that her parents believed in and pushed on her all her life, and over time she taught herself to push back against them. In her teen years she dabbled in other faiths to find something that fit her better, and as a rebellion against her parents. Eventually she found comfort in Wicca and witchcraft. Naturally, when her parents found out, they hit the roof. There were screaming matches and they threw practically all of her things out, even if it didn't have anything to do with her new beliefs.

Needless to say, this abusive controlling environment pushed Leticia to move out of her parents' house the second she turned 18 in spite of their protests.

Antwon had always been Agnostic, with no real positive or negative opinions about religion as a whole. His philosophy is to believe in the things he experiences for himself firsthand. Also faith, or lack thereof, doesn't make someone a bad person - it's the choices they make and the way they treat others that decide a person's moral character. Let people believe in what suits them as long as it doesn't hurt anyone.

That isn't to say Antwon was entirely unfamiliar with Christianity. He did have appreciation for the mythology of religions, particularly how crazy, dark, and creepy the stories could be. He loved the goth aesthetic and all things creepy and spooky in general.

Leticia and Antwon met in college and they clicked almost instantly. Although Leticia did move away from her parents, she didn't want to cut them out of her life and struggled to improve their relationship. Even though their relationship wasn't healthy and was very painful, it's not that easy to cut out loved ones, or forget the good moments they did have together. Antwon helped her reinforce healthy boundaries, which, naturally, her parents did not appreciate. When they found out he wasn't Christian, they made it no secret that they disliked him and constantly took passive-aggressive snipes at him. They would never approve of their daughter dating a "godless heathen," which led to many moments of friction between them.

Antwon helped encourage Leticia to embrace her witchy side and she in turn encouraged him to express his more unusual tastes openly without fear or reservation for what others might think of him. They became a real life Gomez and Morticia, creepy, kooky, and very shamelessly in love. They even had a midnight wedding at a haunted house, illuminated by candles with black and red as the wedding colors, including the wedding dress.

Leticia's parents threw a complete fit at this wedding that "spat in the face of God," straining their relationship even more. It got to the point that security had to force her parents to leave the venue. After that, they refused to recognize the marriage between Antwon and Leticia, as it hadn't been "sanctified by God," and even referred to Shaun as a bastard born out of wedlock.

As you might imagine, the connection Leticia had to her parents was dangling by a thread by the time Shaun came along. Despite all their many arguments, despite all the scenes made and hurtful words exchanged, she still wanted to have a relationship with them. It can be hard to cut ties with someone you love after all, especially when you've been seeking their approval all of your life. She tried so hard to make it work between them, but they stomped on her boundaries at every turn and tried to make her feel guilty for having them in the first place. Eventually, the only reason they were in contact at all was because, if she cut them off, that meant cutting off her brother Abraham as well, who lived with them.

Abraham served as something of a bridge between Leticia and their parents. He and their parents were practically a package deal. He understood that she felt stifled by all the restrictions put on her, as he had grown up with strict rules too, but he simply couldn't understand why she was going so far to "spite" their parents and their faith.

The reality was that Abraham didn't truly understand just how suffocating the rules were for women. He couldn't appreciate how harsh it was that they were expected to give up their autonomy to men, first their father then their husband. They were to defer to the man in their life in all things, to obey without question, to change themselves to suit what that man felt appropriate, and to practically treat the man in their life like God himself.

Abraham was raised to believe in his role as the man of the house, the one who leads in the name of God. The man speaks His word and always has final say. Abraham could never really see why that was wrong and why Leticia would hate "God's plan" for her so much.

Leticia wanted to hold onto the hope that she could open her brother's eyes to just how toxic their parents' and the church's teachings truly were. If she cut them all off, it was the same as giving up on her brother, who she used to be so close to when they were little.

Sadly, Abraham only grew more and more indoctrinated as the years went on as he got more involved in the church. He grew close to others of the same faith and followed in their father's footsteps, even inheriting the funeral parlor that their family had run for generations.

The relationship between Abraham and Leticia was strained by the time Shaun was born, but neither of them were willing to give up on the other. Not yet.

Antwon and Leticia decided to raise Shaun without any sort of religious teachings. They felt it best to let him decide for himself what he believed when he was old enough to truly understand the implications. This, of course, did not sit well with Leticia's family, as they were constantly trying to get her to stop acting "foolish" and come back to the faith. Their attempts got even more outrageous over time, growing almost unhinged after Shaun was born, as they wanted to "save this innocent child's soul from damnation." More than once they tried to get in contact with Shaun behind his parents' backs and teach him "the truth in God."

The final straw was when the grandparents managed to secretly get Shaun baptized behind his parents' back. He was too young to understand what was going on, or why he never got to see his grandparents or uncle Abraham afterwards. All he knew was that his parents were upset for some reason that they never adequately explained. It was only when he was in his late teens that he was told the full story.

Leticia and Antwon went no contact with her family for several years after the baptism incident. They only got back in contact again when her father died, shortly followed by her mother. Abraham and Leticia managed to reconnect and somewhat reconcile at the funeral after the loss of their parents. Things were tense but civil between them, at least for the most part.

Shaun didn't get to know his paternal grandparents, as Antwon's father passed before Shaun was born and Antwon's mother died while Shaun was too young to really form any memories of her. Shaun's few memories of his maternal grandparents were kind, at least as far as he was aware at the time, but then suddenly they and uncle Abraham weren't allowed to come by anymore. He had thought of them fondly, but learning the full truth cast a dark shadow on his previously warm and happy memories of them.

Sadly, in the present day, Shaun only has one living family member left - his uncle Abraham. His parents died unexpectedly - a fatal car crash. His only solace about the gruesome incident that took his parents was that they were at least together in the end.

The death of his parents hit Shaun hard. The three of them were so close, with so many common interests. His parents helped him flourish his love of horror movies and all things dark and gothic. They were his biggest fans, always cheering him on with whatever he wanted to do in life. They loved everything he made, even his haphazardly thought out and poorly edited analog horror shorts.

They were there to congratulate Shaun when he won his first ever independent film awards for the student film he worked so hard on in college. That film was what ultimately started his career as an up and coming director in the present day.

It was his last film they ever saw. The last time Shaun saw them in person, they were telling him just how proud of him they were, and how they knew that he was going to do great things.

Shaun was still in college when his parents died, and he was devastated. It was only with the help of his friends that he could handle it all.

It wasn't easy, especially when Abraham kept arguing with Shaun about the details of the funeral. Abraham insisted that he might not have been able to "save Leticia's soul from Hell," but he would be damned if her remains were not at least put to rest on holy ground beside their parents. He refused to accept that Leticia actually stated in her will that she wanted to be cremated, with some of her ashes made into diamonds and the rest scattered into the ocean. It was blasphemy of the highest order! Abraham didn't care what Shaun did with Antwon's remains, but he would bring hell to his nephew's doorstep to make sure his sister "came home" for her final rest.

Ultimately, for all of Abraham's poisonous words and protests, for all his declarations that Shaun would be damning his mother's soul to hell for his blasphemy, for all the shouting and tears between them, Shaun was the one with final say. His parents had planned ahead and left Shaun with the power over their estate. All Abraham was left with was a few parting words from Leticia to him in her will, and a few old keepsakes from when she was a child.

Abraham didn't attend the ash spreading ceremony. His parting words to Shaun was that the last of his family was dead and damned. Whether he was implying that Shaun was dead to him as well or that he didn't see Shaun as family at all, it was never clear. All that was clear was that he never wanted to see Shaun again. After all the hell Abraham put Shaun through, the feeling was mutual.

Not that it was easy for Shaun to cut off the only living member of his family that he had left. It would be years before he would tentatively try to mend fences despite their rocky past. Even though he has good friends by his side, a part of him still aches painfully for the family he lost.

But Abraham is nothing like Shaun's late parents. Try as Shaun might to open his heart to his uncle in spite of everything, there is no love between them, only a connection by blood that cannot stand against stubbornness, pride, and zealotry.

Religion, Collage, and Relationships

Rewinding things a bit, let's go back to Shaun's early collage days. The start of collage was a bright time in his life, one filled with hope and optimism. He arrived on campus his first day bright-eyed and excited for classes and to see who he would wind up rooming with. He was surprised when the college dorms didn't strictly go with same-sex matchups, but he wasn't about to complain. His new roomie was very sweet, polite, and even brought a batch of delicious homemade chocolate chip cookies to welcome him as her new roommate.

Shaun couldn't help but think he hit the jackpot. Alice was cute and a bit shy, but she warmed up to him quickly. She was also into goth like him! Sure she went for the pastel cutesy side of goth, but he was happy to be paired with one of his people.

They even had a class together during their first semester - a creative writing class that focused on horror. They sat next to one another and chatted often. Shaun found it so easy to talk to Alice and bounce ideas off of her. For someone so kind and soft, she could come up with some diabolical twists for a horror story, and he was only too happy to help her in return.

Shaun had experienced crushes before, but Alice was special. She wasn't just attractive, she was a good person that he enjoyed spending time with and was just so easy to have fun with. He wanted to see where things could go between them, but, sadly, his hopes were dashed when he found out that she already had a boyfriend.

It was... fine. Shaun insisted to himself that he would be fine with things as they are. At least at the start. He did his best to stop crushing on Alice and just be her friend, knowing that it wasn't going to happen between them. Unfortunately, his feelings for her only grew as they spent more time together. They became comfortable living together and shared many wonderful moments together. Try as he might, he simply couldn't stop longing for more.

Shaun has always wanted what his parents had. They're the ideal couple in his mind. He wanted a partner who just completed him so perfectly. With how well he and Alice clicked, he couldn't help but think, if only...

But Shaun was no homewrecker. He tried to shake off any romantic or sexual feelings for Alice and focused instead of becoming friends with her and Ian. More friends the merrier, right? If he and Ian became bros, then surely his crush would fade away, and he'd be okay with things as they are.

Only... Shaun and Ian didn't mesh well.

Shaun did try to get along with Ian, he really did! But somehow Ian always managed to rub his fur the wrong way. It wasn't just that Ian had shit taste in anime, but many little things kept happening that annoyed Shaun, small conflicts that didn't matter on their own, but slowly piled up over time.

Ian felt threatened by Shaun in spite of himself. Sure he would swear up and down that he was secure in his relationship with Alice, even convincing himself that was truly the case...

But Shaun got along with Alice so fast. Too fast. The only other person Alice clicked with so quickly was Ian himself, and that was because she was the one who reached out to him when they were little kids. She was always so wary of people, just like Ian. She understood how cruel people could be, such bullies...

Ian never suspected Alice and Shaun of anything untoward. How could he even dare think that way of his partner? He did try to get along with Shaun despite his confidence issues, but he couldn't help but compare the two of them. Shaun was tall, muscular, handsome, confident, charismatic, funny, witty, smart, strong, and overall just everything Ian didn't see in himself. Who wouldn't fall for Shaun? Even Ian's heart would've skipped a beat if he didn't have Alice.

Heck, Ian probably would've gotten a crush on Shaun if not for his jealousy and insecurities.

Alice and Shaun had so much in common... was it more than Ian and Alice had in common? It was hard for Ian not to compare their relationships, or to be extra clingy. What made his insecurity worse was the fact that he and Alice had been a couple for over a year now, but they still hadn't had sex yet.

They were adults independently living on their own. It... might be sinful, but everyone in collage talked about sex like it was nothing, and the two of them were in love! They were a couple! The church might think sex before marriage is wrong, but Ian was trying to shake off the toxic teachings of his mom. He and Alice had talked about sex before, and they both agreed that it wasn't wrong to have it outside of marriage.

The issue wasn't sinfulness, but something far more personal. Ian understood all too well why Alice struggled with physical intimacy, especially when she was still dealing with certain traumas, but it made him feel inadequate, as if he was lacking as a partner.

If Ian was someone like Shaun, could he and Alice have already made love by now? It was an unfair thought to have, and Ian knew it, but that doubt kept niggling at him every time he saw Shaun and Alice together. It seemed so effortless for Shaun to make Alice laugh and goof around, when it took so long for Ian to get that far with her. Even after all these years, he still had moments of awkwardness and insecurity even when it was just him and Alice together. Things developed so slow in their relationship. He was awkward as a child, coming out of his shell painfully slow and letting her take the lead far too often, then fumbling with his crush and trying to confess his feelings. It took him so long to get to this point, and things still were going slow! They kissed and cuddled, but her hesitance to take things further just made him feel all the more filthy and sinful for wanting it so badly.

Sometimes little doubts crept in Ian's mind, intrusive thoughts about Shaun and Alice living together. With how easy a time Shaun had getting close to Alice, it'd be effortless for him to take things further if given the opportunity.

Ian didn't doubt Alice for one second! Never! He knew her better than anyone. He knew why she was hesitant to get physical, why she was slow to warm up to people. Shaun was... he was her assigned roommate. She had to live with the guy, so she just wanted to get along. Nothing wrong or suspicious about that at all!

Ian knew how hard Alice tried to get along with others. He had the same struggle to connect with people... so why was it so easy for her to get along with Shaun?

With other people they interacted with, Ian didn't feel quite so jealous. Sure, he worried Alice would find someone better than him, but she was never as close to them like she was with Ian. It was an anomaly that Shaun had gotten so close to her so fast, which left Ian feeling insecure and especially clingy. It made him push a little more for physical intimacy and reassurance.

Alice did pick up on Ian's jealousy after a while, and she was quick to reassure him that things between her and Shaun were strictly platonic. In fact, Shaun practically felt like a big brother to her. She was the oldest child in her family, always responsible for all her younger siblings, and when she hung out with Shaun it felt like she got to be the younger sibling for a change. They joked around and had fun just like she did with her siblings, but she didn't have pressure of being the eldest and being in charge. The only person she wanted to be with romantically or sexually was Ian.

Talking things through did make their bond a bit stronger, and gave Alice a push to get more physically intimate with Ian, even if it was to her detriment.

Alice and Ian did always assume marriage was where they were headed. They did discuss it a couple of times, but as a far off thing in the future, something to think about in more practical terms after they graduated college. Classes and trying to figure out what they wanted to do with their futures was hard enough without pressuring things to go too fast with marriage. Not to mention Ian had a lot of baggage that had to do with the church's influence on marriage.

Because marriage was this nebulous, far away thing, Ian and Alice didn't feel the need to discuss the topic with their friends. Ian wasn't anywhere near ready to propose to Alice at the time either.

Though the thought of proposing did pop up when Ian was drunk and worried he might not get into that prestigious acting college in California. If he couldn't make it - and why would he - then maybe they could just be... together? He was so insecure that, even while drunk, he couldn't just come right out and make it clear that he was hinting at proposing.

Alice insisted that they would be together no matter what happened, and that Ian was definitely going to get into that school. She did catch what he was implying, but her focus at the time was reassuring him and making sure he drank water to minimize the next day's hangover.

When Shaun's parents died, Alice was there for him. Although Ian still had lingering insecurities, he supported her spending so much time with Shaun during that time. Just like after Alice's breakup later, she and Shaun had comforting movie marathons and slumber parties on the couch. She held Shaun when he broke down and cried despite trying to hold it all in. They were close enough for him to be vulnerable with her in his time of need, and he'll always be grateful that she was there for him and helped him deal with his uncle's horrible behavior.

Ian did try to offer Shaun support, but it was kind of fumbling, especially since he was still trying to figure out his own beliefs. Touching on religion was a sore spot for both of them, and Shaun, being worn thin from Abraham's toxicity, snapped when Ian tried to cheer him up by insisting his parents weren't in hell, no matter what Abraham said.

...

"No, they're fucking not in hell!" Shaun snapped, his eyes welling with tears he refused to let loose. "They're fucking dead. They're gone, and I'll never see them again. Ever!"

Ian stammered a bit for a moment, tensing up at the sharp tone that brought back memories of his mother lashing out at him for not placating her correctly. "I-I just meant that... I mean... you'll see them again someday in Heaven, I'm sure-"

"Shut the fuck up, Ian!" Shaun snarled, as all the little irritations with Ian built up and exploded out of him. "There's no such thing as Heaven, so stop feeding me bullshit trying to make me feel better!" He choked on a lump in his throat for a moment. "They're gone okay! My parents are fucking gone. When you're dead you're gone! Gone! Gone for good! You're gone and all that's left is a sack of meat left to rot!"

Ian choked a little himself. Unlike Shaun, he couldn't hold back his tears, his body quaking a little as he stepped back from the grieving man. "I... I'm sorry..."

Shaun took a deep, shaky breath to steady himself before turning away from Ian. "Just... just shut up, Ian. Things are shitty enough without you making it worse."

"I'm sorry," was all Ian could whimper as Shaun stormed out of the room.

...

Poor Ian did mean well, but he accidentally touched a nerve when Shaun was already raw and hurting. It certainly didn't help their already strained relationship. Alice could only do her best to try and soothe them both when they were upset.

Ian talking about religion did feel hypocritical to Shaun. Shaun didn't know all of the trauma and abuse Ian went through related to religion, but he did know that Ian was uncomfortable with the subject. Bringing it up in this situation in an attempt to soothe Shaun felt more like making fun of him at the time.

Even in the modern day, Shaun doesn't know much about Ian's home life. Ian wasn't forthcoming about it, and Alice wouldn't betray his trust by telling anyone something so personal. Even after the breakup, Alice wasn't comfortable mentioning such intimate details even with a close friend like Shaun.

So what little Shaun has pieced together over time is that Ian has "mommy issues" and may or may not be religious. It was never clear to Shaun with the way Ian sometimes would make religious-leaning comments like mentioning sin or Heaven. Shaun doesn't know what Ian's religious beliefs are and frankly doesn't want to know.

Although Ian couldn't do much to help while Shaun was mourning the loss of his parents, Alice managed to be a huge support for him. Even today he sometimes tells her that he doesn't think he could've handled it without her help.

Alice and Shaun did a good job of helping one another make it through tough times. Alice invited Shaun to come to her family's home during the first holidays without his parents so he wouldn't be alone. Halloween was especially hard for Shaun, as it was the most important holiday for his family. Being surrounded by the King family was a little painful in reminding Shaun of what he lost, but they were all so welcoming of him and kind. It made him feel less alone.

Though Shaun did find it a bit hard being around Alice's parents, as their relationship reminded him painfully of his parents. Ambrose and Lycoris are so lovey dovey with each other, just like his parents were. Although they made an effort to tone down the public displays of affection when he was around, it was impossible for him not to think of his parents when they looked so lovingly at each other. Close couples so deeply in love with one another would always remind him of Antwon and Leticia, at least a little bit.

In a way, spending time with the King family both helped and hurt Shaun. It reminded him of what he lost, but their presence left that empty space in his heart a little less empty during a time when he was aching with loss. Alice went out of her way to cheer him up and helped him feel part of the family.

It did help Shaun a lot more than it hurt to be an honorary member of the King family during holidays. When he healed more and noticed the hurt a little less, he felt a little guilty that a part of him wanted to become a real member of the King family.

Alice had become someone precious to Shaun by this point. His affection for her deepened beyond just a crush. She was his best friend. She had invited him into her family when he lost his. Her feelings for him might not be the same as what he felt for her, but she had become someone truly special to him. Although he tried not to, he did imagine what it might be like if he married Alice and joined her family as her partner. He could see her being his Morticia, just like Leticia was to Antwon and Lycoris was for Ambrose.

This guilty little dream did come back to bite Shaun in the conscience after Ian cheated on Alice. Sure, Shaun didn't do anything to sabotage their relationship or outright say that he wanted them to break up, but in his heart of hearts, a part of him did kind of wish for it to happen so he might have a chance.

The guilt just made Shaun that much more determined to forget about his crush and just be there for Alice as her friend. He didn't make a move, didn't even hint at his feelings. Whenever they popped up, he squashed them down as best he could and focused on helping her move on from a relationship he knew all too well now was far more toxic than he ever would've dreamed.

But it was hard. All the sleepovers, all the times Shaun held Alice so close in his arms... he wanted to kiss her and tell her how much he loved her... and he felt like such a scumbag for it.

In a way, it was almost a blessing for Shaun when he eventually had to move away for another college too. He didn't want to take advantage of Alice during such a vulnerable time. He stayed long enough that she was stable again after the breakup, but he needed space to clear his head. Alice had become someone who meant so much to him because she was there during a vulnerable moment in his life, and he returned the favor for her.

After learning about just how toxic Ian and Alice's relationship was with its codependence and lack of communication, Shaun knew the right thing to do was to take a step back. It was the best thing for both of them. The last thing he wanted was to ruin what they already had by doing things the wrong way.

Besides, Alice never thought of Shaun that way. Shaun might have had guilty hopes, but he knew full well that his crush was one-sided. The last thing she needed was to be burdened with feelings that she couldn't return.

At least, not yet. Maybe someday. He hoped. Or maybe he would find someone else who completed him in a way he never thought possible.

Shaun and Alice did connect right away, but it wasn't an explosion of love that swept them away like what Leticia and Antwon found with each other. What Shaun and Alice have is good and wonderful, but it's not that same passion. He might long for it with her, but that bond of love like soulmates isn't there, no matter how much he wishes that it might appear one day.

As sad as it is that Shaun's crush on Alice won't be reciprocated, the platonic love of friendship that they share is one that he will always be grateful for and will fight to keep in his life. Even if they won't be lovers, their friendship is still warm and wonderful.

Although Shaun won't get that wild spark of undying love and romance with Alice, I have a person or two in mind that he will find it with. Gomez needs his Morticia after all.

As for Ian and Shaun's relationship... I don't think it'll ever get better. Maybe it'll become civil at some point, but I doubt they can become friends. There's too much bad blood between them now. Their complicated pasts with religion was only just one of many factors that made it impossible for them to connect.

Shaun does see Ian as a hypocrite in a lot of ways, but the biggest way is claiming to want only Alice when Ian himself proved that to be a lie.

@channydraws @earthgirlaesthetic @sai-of-the-7-stars @cheriihoney @illary-kore @okamiliqueur @kurokrisps

[corntired]

Fanfiction is so goated actually

No monetary incentive, just writing in one's free time. Some incentive for like kudos and comments, because who doesn't want to hear that someone else enjoyed what they wrote. Just writing a story that is good and/or enjoyable, no real-life pressure to keep it going because god forbid you and other people are depending on it financially.

Writing a story because you want to write a good story, so you can write what they want the way you want, at a pace that is realistic for you, with exactly the plot pacing you want there to be.

[vaguely-concerned]

few things bring me as much joy as my rook's expressive capacity for sudden withering disdain. (he's looking at illario here, of course lmao.) he's so hey i'm just a little guy...🥺 coded most of the time and then someone says something dumb enough that the mask cracks for a moment and every line of him says 'that is the stupidest fucking thing anyone has ever said to me and I'm aggrieved to even have had to hear it'. rye is mostly very kind but there IS a bastard lurking in his head waiting to be let out as well. not just solas but solas too I suppose. two bastards in rye ingellvar's head they keep each other company and are trying to strangle each other as we speak 😌.

(vs. him looking over at lucanis a moment later during the same line delivery. since lucanis was actively into viago once I cannot imagine that getting to watch rye crack and be kind of mean to people who've earned it when too sorely tried is like. entirely without allure to him fhskjadf. witnessing illario pulling the old ingratiating 'rooook reason with him would you~ I'm the cousin with the charisma stats' routine and This being rook's response probably opened some as of yet ill-understood '...I think I hauve covid' corners of lucanis' soul. tfw your buddy has your back so completely (dawning erotic implications))

[fleshmetal]

just watched the borderlands movie and the only good part was that krieg’s little harness thingo lowkey looked like a very skimpy little bra thing sometimes

he needs some back support with those jugs ofc