#wouldn't it just be latin girl?

[unproduciblesmackdown]

also to go "wow this is just like in pentiment" about absolutely anything and/or "wow this is just like iphigenia crash land falls on the neon shell that was once her heart (a rave fable)" about absolutely anything further:

the Narratives within crash land falls where like, in the end iphigenia being Given the story of both "this is going to happen anyways" and "so why don't you see it as a noble sacrifice to accept." the situation happening to Create a story that she was killed, so her father must be tragic, and sympathetic. that iphigenia does take on that Narrative of taking on the Noble Willing Sacrifice, and it kills her, but she also would have been killed anyways, as everyone also knows. that we even get a bit of pentimentesque [other characters observe & assess things] like, the fresa girls as a chorus, and one at the end like yeah She Was No Saint, i saw everything, but being cut off by The News that's like yeah looks like iphigenia was killed, that seguing into her father saying yeah she was killed, god's will was done, She's A Saint now. seguing to the emcee who introduced the play, but that superceded by achilles, and that superceded with iphigenia's extasis monologue as the end of the play. that whether iphigenia's a saint or not, she dies. that [the whole play] tells us as much, like, this isn't a What If kind of retelling where she escapes her fate, this is a retelling examining itself like, she Will die because the story's preset, so what to do with this as the story that has to take her there, what to do with this as iphigenia who has to go there

that iphigenia takes on another narrative in addition to the one offered by like, violeta as guide and oracle telling her she has to die (As A Noble Sacrifice), that again (as per iphigenia in aulis being like uh hey daughter. let's go to aulis so you can uh marry achilles (it is to be sacrificed)) achilles is this bait, but it's only in the ending that there's any Story about being with achilles, and when iphigenia goes to the mercenary soldier who she knows will kill her, she's the one telling him what to tell her about where she's going and why, i want you to tell me achilles is waiting for me....and she still dies, because This Is The Story. as also applied to the reality, iphigenia as another dead and missing girl following & preceding many; any disappeared deaths when consumed as disposable & replaceable, not given part of any narrative about it. while also iphigenia only gets a chorus of fresa girls from there being crosses put on the factory wall with their names, with one girl even remarking like hey they spelled my name right for once. but at the same time they're also like, both mere Apparitions but also like standins for people who are simply alive. real [shades]esque kind of, i suppose, but like they're not Sanctified for dying either, they'll comment on iphigenia but not with any like, divine knowledge, just as this out of place rich girl. whether iphigenia's A Saint or Not A Saint, she's still dead either way. she wants to be a fresa girl, they maybe want to be her, but everyone's doomed anyways thanks to way larger forces and the Stories that have been told and will be told again

but there's also the moment right before the final section wherein, before she's having to say what she wants within the bounds of [she has to die], there's achilles asking "you still want me" and iphigenia answering with "i want everything" and her vision for, like, getting to be alive actually, i'm on the gulf where the sea is gray, and no one wants a piece of me....the whole inciting event here where iphigenia wants to evade her fate however she can, exiting the bounds of her life, the physical bounds and the family unit and walking away from the rank of status / class / wealth, trying for [have her body for herself] and what the body wants, the sensuous indulgences of (a rave fable), let's hear some more about the roman state like "we don't like the examination and challenge and upending of class and convention in a bacchanalia, so only do the official versions we permit;" the Threat of people's desires for themselves, when that's going to be counter to those in power who'd want these people to be resources at their disposal; the burden on the disempowered to suffer [the only way out is through] with the Additional pain & loss that has to be taken on in pursuit of their autonomy, while also of course suffering for the autonomy they lack, that restricted and controlled and mitigated versions of what you might want are deigned to be provided or permitted so that you have Something, but that everyone's actual undeniable personhood will always be spilling past those bounds, the potential power of transgressive pleasure when one's wellbeing and autonomous choices are counter to the power structures that have to constantly try to suppress and preclude this. achilles just as bait, doomed to die like iphigenia is also still doomed, sex was never going to save everyone and the [recognizing connection as these two parallel people / We're The Same] with your lover here is not going to save everyone but it still makes more things possible for them both; iphigenia does know what she wants, and gets some of it because she wants it, same with achilles in turn, while it can't save anyone from their fates still. but it can mean something even if it doesn't transcend, like even a fleeting night of insignificant dancing that doesn't change anything can mean something, and we all die, but that doesn't mean it's Nothing to be killed any more than it's Nothing to have your desires or choices one way or another to be wrung out of your life before you are

anyways, the stories. the Looking and Presenting here. achilles and iphigenia first encountering each other as images put together and presented by someone else for their own purposes. the presence of what's seen through film/camera/recording versus in person; the potential power relations and even violence in framing, presenting, and the intended looking and assessing. repeated language about eyes/looks that burn, while also that connection between iphigenia and achilles, and their finding the least room in what they do have of their lives for more of their own wants and selves and something genuine and not predetermined, is also connected to eyes and looking and being seen and light and burning. while they're also connected to the protection and possibility of night and darkness, getting to exist and be Without being lit up or seen; that with the power that's still in play, it's never like, well then you should have nothing / no reason to hide; the penultimate moment in the play with achilles being one that's in person and fades into darkness, rather than coming in from the light of a projection / video onscreen as the introduction....iphigenia needing to be guided through a crossroads to even get to achilles in person; violeta giving the Advice and Story and Tradition to pray to eleggua, as iphigenia does before getting to encounter achilles for real, who also doesn't get to break out of a role or a fate in full in any way, but their tragedies are like, pointing towards [autonomy, imagine it] in both the ways they manage to find a little bit of it for themselves, in no small part for simply recognizing each other as in the same boat here, and in the ways they still don't have it and still can't get it

and anyways it's also inevitably saying like, telling a story?? this Play is a told story!! looking? assessing? interpreting? you're doing that in the course of experiencing it! and it's really so fucking true.

[completewannabe]

gonna add my two (or three or four or five) cents here:

The one thing for me about the TLM is the Last Gospel. In the original Latin text (and the TLM), the dismissal is "Ite, Missa est." This is translated in the NO as "Go forth, the Mass has ended," but it really means something more akin to "Go, she [the Church] is sending or is being sent." And then the Last Gospel reminds you of what you're being sent for.

For those of you who don't happen to have a Bible on hand, let me put it into perspective (John 1:1-14, NAB RE translation, I'm italicizing, bolding and spacing for emphasis so bear with me).

"In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God.

All things came to be through Him, and without Him nothing came to be.

What came to be through him was life, and this life was the light of the human race;

the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.

A man named John was sent from God. He came for testimony, to testify to the light, so that all might believe through him. He was not the light, but came to testify to the light.

The true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world.

He was in the world, and the world came to be through Him, but the world did not know Him.

He came to what was His own, but His own people did not accept Him.

But to those who did accept Him, He gave power to become children of God, to those who believe in His name,

who were born not by natural generation nor by human choice nor by a man's decision but of God.

And the Word became flesh, and made His dwelling among us,

and we saw His glory

the glory as of the Father's only Son,

full of grace and truth."

Uh, yeah. Read that again for me.

So basically, they tell you to go out and spread the Good News, and then they tell you exactly what the Good News is!!!!!!

You have been given the power to become CHILDREN OF GOD!!! Why wouldn't you want to tell everyone??

YOU WERE MADE NOT BY NATURAL CIRCUMSTANCE NOR BY HUMAN CHOICE NOR BY A MAN'S DECISION BUT OF GOD!!! How many people need to hear that these days?? You are not a mistake, you were CHOSEN you were FORMED you were CREATED by God in this wonderful mystic unknown fantastical mystery because he LOVES you and he WANTS you!!!! And you've just been given the most precious Body and Blood of His Son, the most perfect unity and intimacy with God!! How wonderful amazing powerful is that??

The light spreads in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it!!! EVIL CANNOT PREVAIL OVER THE LORD!!!

Jesus is the Messiah, He was in the beginning with God! THIS IS AFFIRMING JESUS' DIVINITY AND HIS GLORY AND DOMINION AND POWER! AND JOHN SAYS "WE SAW THIS GLORY" AND YOU JUST DID BECAUSE YOU SAW THE LORD IN THE MASS IN THE HOLY EUCHARIST!!!!

And we bow at the bit where it says "And the Word became flesh," just as we bowed at the Nicene Creed, "And the Holy Spirit was incarnate of the Virgin Mary, and became man." Because we are reminded that He came down for us!! We profess it again as we hear it proclaimed that Jesus came down in the flesh!!!

In conclusion, the Last Gospel is important because it tells us exactly what we're supposed to say and how we're supposed to profess the Gospel. It is a very very powerful reading. That is my favorite part of the TLM and the thing I miss the most when I go to an NO Mass.

tbh now that I have this essay I might ask my parish priest if we can start saying the Last Gospel at my local (NO) church because I go to a college church (it's Campus Ministry) and we could really really use that.

A brief comparison of the liturgical prayers of the TLM (traditional Latin Mass) and the Novus Ordo.

Most practicing Catholics know that major revisions were made to Roman Catholic Mass in 1969, but aside from the language of the liturgy, what has changed?

The Latin Mass has nearly twice as many prayers as the New Mass.

Orations

Of all the rotating prayers (orations) 83% are unique to the TLM. In the new missal, 669 of the original 1,273 orations have been removed, and of the remaining, only 13% were left unchanged.

Reverence

Even the number of times the priest kisses the altar, genuflects, and makes the sign of the cross, has been severely reduced

A Different Cycle of Scripture Readings

The new Roman missal has a three year cycle - a well intentioned attempt to expose the laity to more scripture in the Mass. However given the nature of the three year cycle, it's inevitable that the readings will not align as appropriately and succinctly as the specially chosen readings of the older one year cycle when it comes to specific feasts and the liturgical seasons, a choice of quantity over quality unfortunately.

I leave it to the reader to decide for his or herself whether the older one year or newer three year cycle is preferable.

The Last Gospel

Catholics who have never attended a Latin Mass may be surprised to learn that following communion and dismissal, there is a lengthy gospel reading called The Last Gospel (John 1:1-14).

Why the last Gospel?

From the notations of the 1962 Roman Daily Missal:

The Mass began with the longing cry of the Old Testament: "Send forth Thy light and Thy truth!" It could not be concluded in a more worthy and more sublime manner than with the words of St. John: "The Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us; and we saw His glory as of the Only-Begotten of the Father, full of grace and truth."

And according to Catholic author Msgr. George J. Moorman, in his book, The Latin Mass Explained:

This reading, in the course of time, was added to the Eucharistic service on account of the great reverence the early Christians entertained for this portion of the Gospel and because it contains a summary of the benefits of which we are made partakers through Christ’s Sacrifice. The service was introduced by the prayer of the priest: ‘Send forth Thy Light and Thy Truth!’ It could not be concluded in a more becoming manner than with the words, ‘AND THE WORD WAS MADE FLESH, and dwelt among us; and we saw His glory, the glory as of the Only-begotten of the Father, full of grace and truth.’ At the words ‘AND THE WORD WAS MADE FLESH’, the priest and the people kneel on one knee in token of adoration of the mystery of the Incarnation, which is expressed in these words, and to indicate that the Son of God came from Heaven to earth. When the priest has finished the reading of this Gospel, the server answers, ‘Deo Gratias’—‘Thanks Be To God.’ These are the last words of the Mass.

Unfortunately this beautiful gospel passage and it's place of honor have been completely removed in the New Mass, and it's omission may even (as a matter of personal opinion) have contributed to the enormous number of people who leave Mass early immediately following Holy Communion.

Conclusion

Dearest Reader, I have attempted to be objective and only present facts in the above, however it may be clear to those of you who are familiar with my blog, where my biases lay. I am a Latin Mass Catholic, I love the traditional liturgy and will never stop advocating for the timeless Mass of ages that has brought untold numbers of faithful to the Lord for over a millennia. However, I make no judgment on the faithful who prefer the New Mass, nor do I mean to suggest that the Novus Ordo is in any way invalid. I only ask that all consider the information I have compiled and do your own research, that you may come to your own well informed conclusions. God Love You!

If any have questions or further interest in the topic of the Traditional Latin Mass my DMs are open or you may send an 'ask', I will answer or redirect you to the best of my ability.

(Credit to The Mass of the Ages project for images above)

[sapphosclosefriend]

~ Nerd! Nat Headcanons ~

18+ content. Minors DNI!

Based on this and this idea.

SFW

Nerd! Nat who is getting a degree in something like History in college and meets you at a party (strangely so). Her sister has begged her non stop to drive her to said party and her almost non existent social skills and the people there being from a completely different department of her school make it so awkward for her. But then she catches your eye, you start talking to her and the rest is history!

Nerd! Nat who is basically biologically averse to technology. It's not that she doesn't like it, her brain just doesn't comprehend it. She barely has a random old phone of Yelena's (who begged her to take it not to “embarrass her”) and the oldest, slowest laptop she touches only when she's forced to for certain school projects.

Nerd! Nat who is SO passionate about History. She's read every book (good and bad), gone to every convention, talked to every professor. It is her passion and at first it feels a little strange to her when you start occupying so much of her attention, but she soon gets used to it.

Nerd! Nat who speaks Latin and Greek almost fluently and always uses quotes in those languages. The first time she does it in front of you it is unconsciously and once she realizes what she's done she's scared about what you'll think of her. She blushes like crazy when you act impressed by her skill and ask her about it with interest.

Nerd! Nat who is a little shy but as soon as you give her an ounce of genuine attention starts yapping nonstop in the cutest way possible.

Nerd! Nat who straight up dresses like a grandpa and LOVES it. She's always loved going thrifting for sweaters and now that she does it with you she's ecstatic.

Nerd! Nat who has to speak at some sort of conference at school and is thankful she has a random suit she thrifted a while ago for occasions like this, because she is so engrossed in researching and preparing her speech that she would've never had the time to buy something. When you get to the event, wanting to support her, you see her wearing a tweed suit that doesn't really fit her right and is just a little too big, but she looks so cute in it you can't help but kiss her and hug her, unknowingly calming her down before her speech.

NSFW

Nerd! Nat who panics when you start sucking her off in her car one night and she doesn't tell you she's a virgin. She tries to hold it as much as she can, but the first time she hits the back of your throat she cums so hard her hips buckle, making you gag around her and making her cum even more (it's a never ending cycle with her).

Nerd! Nat who apologizes so much for cumming quickly but gets shut up by you kissing her because you think she's even hotter now.

Nerd! Nat who, as you straddle her hips while you make out still in the car, shyly asks you to do it some other time. She knows she wouldn't be able to control herself at all if she saw you riding her in front of her bare eyes and she's too nervous about having another “quick” accident. You think she's so cute and you end up just making out for the rest of the night. You understood what her actual “issue” was and you can't help but like everything about her more and more.

Nerd! Nat who soon gets addicted to your pussy. The first time you fuck in missionary she hugs you so tightly and buries her face in the crook of your neck while she ruts into you so frantically. At first the strength behind her thrusts shocks you a little, but her desperate whines right next to your ear soon make you smirk once again at how needy she is.

Nerd! Nat who of course likes tits, but is such an ass girl! She's embarrassed to tell you how much your ass turns her on, but you easily pick up on it (she's not as subtle as she believes). You start almost always riding her facing the other way, to give her a clear view of your ass and it takes her breath away every single time you do it.

Nerd! Nat who wants to try to fuck you doggystyle (because the view would be simply too good to her), but gets so desperate the second you start pushing back to meet her thrusts that you end up fully lying on your stomach while she pathetically mewls and ruts into you, begging you to cum around her cock.

Taglist: @fxckmiup @natashasilverfox

[millieisawriter]

Sacrum et profanum

javier escuella x reader

summary: the story of how the mexican outlaw fell for the pastor's daughter

wc: 2.5k

tw: ends with smut - loss of virginity, unprotected sex, creampie, quite a lot of religious references during the act

english isn't my first language

all pics taken from pinterest

♡this wasn't requested, but if you wish to request something you're more than welcome♡

+18 so none of yalls parents come for me

It was somewhere in Montana where Javier met you. Some little town nearby which the gang was camped. That evening when you two met was nice and chilly, you were just walking back home from a gathering with other women at the church.

Actually, the first time you didn't even talk. You possibly didn't even realize a pair of eyes was on you. But he had noticed you, it was hard not to, you were too beautiful for your own good.

Javier had met many beautiful women in the past, but none of them quite like you. He forgot half of them, if not more, after a few days or so, but he knew that wouldn't be the case with you. So he watched, silently, following you from the shadows.

Maybe it was God who urged him to talk to you the second time he saw you. The need to do it appeared in his mind almost unexpected. He shouldn't, after all, knowing it's not the best idea to start anything with a girl of a different belief.

In the following days, he tried to reason it away, telling himself that there was little to be gained in wanting a girl whose father, firstly, preached a different faith, and secondly one who surely warned you against men like Javier, considering his line of work.

But something urged him to do it.

This time you didn't come straight back home. Something made you turn your gaze towards a patch of beautiful wildflowers nearby, and you stopped momentarily just to gather some.

"Good evening." Was all he said in a greeting, but it was enough to say a lot about him. There was an accent to his voice, one that told you he came from somewhere in the Latin America.

You looked up at the man from where you were kneeling down by the flowers, and then you knew you had to be careful. Not only was he a stranger, but by the way he was dressed you could tell he was a drifter. It would be the best to not engage in a conversation with him at all, but currently you weren't really in a position to do so.

"Oh," you managed as you stood up, clutching the little bouquet of the wildflowers in your hands, "good evening, mister."

Noticing how your eyes slightly widened, he figured he could've taken a better approach. "Sorry, didn't mean to startle you." He apologized as sincerely as he could.

You had no idea what this man could have wanted from you. He was too polite to intend to rob you, what you had assumed at first.

"It's allright." You replied, still trying to remain cautious, even if the man's behavior didn't fit the outlaw archetype your father would often feed your brain with. "I don't think I've seen you around before."

What made you say it? You didn't know. You didn't have to engage in a conversation with this man. You could have excused yourself out of it, and walked back home.

"Just passing through," he admitted, "excuse my forwardness, but I had to approach you. You're very... captivating." He tipped his hat, adding, "Javier Escuella."

Having learnt his name, you then proceeded to introduce yourself, not forgetting to add that you're the pastor's daughter. It seemed like Javier was studying your name as if savoring the sound of it.

You felt the urge to look away, not used to the sort of attention he seemed to be giving you, but you didn't. After all, he was rather captivating, too.

"Well, miss, it was pleasure to meet you. Mind if I walk you home?"

You faltered for a second. A stranger, a drifter on top of that and possibly one of a questionable line of work, asking to walk you home did sound a bit suspicious.

But his tone seemed sincere to your inexperienced ears. So you agreed. "No, I don't mind."

And that was how your story began. It was simple, and kind of sweet. You started sneaking around behind your family's back, making up excuses for your delayed return home, sometimes even daring to sneak out at night just to meet with Javier. So romantic, right?

You haven't been acting like yourself, really, and your family was quick to figure it out. Your father, especially. You didn't know if he assumed, or knew for certain, but he accused you of seeing a man. Maybe your sneaking out just wasn't sneaky enough.

Whatever you had with Javier, wasn't as sweet and romantic in your family's eyes as it was in yours.

"He's not a bad man, daddy!" You exclaimed during one argument.

"Then how come hadn't he come to me first?" You father asked. "A good man always asks the father for permission!"

But this didn't speak to you. Of course, that's what a good man does, but Javier was good to you regardless. To other people, however... well, he told you about the gang, what they do. Maybe what they were doing wasn't morally right, but the idea they did it all for was not that senseless. Stealing from the rich, giving to the poor (such as themselves, too). Almost noble, wasn't it?

In the evenings you met, Javier would talk about the injustices he had seen, the rich and powerful who lived untouched by the struggles of the less fortunate ones. And he spoke about Mexico a lot, too.

"Porfirio Díaz," he'd scoff, "he talks about order and progress like he's some saint sent to save us, but who's he saving? Not the people. It's all about the men with deep pockets, the hacendados who sit on their wealth while the rest of us scrape by."

Your eyes would widen, as you had always been unaware of what was happening outside of your little town, especially in foreign countries miles away.

"I had no idea it could get that bad." You'd mutter, as if trying to apologize for the actions of the bad people.

"It did get really bad," Javier would confirm, "in the mines and plantations, people work themselves to death. And the campesinos who once owned their own land, Díaz has stripped them of it all. Forced them into a kind of slavery, with debts they'll never pay."

"What about your family?"

He went silent for a longer moment everytime you'd ask about his family. Not that he didn't like talking about them. He loved them, cared about them. But talking about them could lead him to revealing a bit too much about his past, which he didn't want to happen just yet.

"I don't know, I haven't heard from them since I left." Was all he'd say, and then change the topic. "It's not that different here. Those in power look down on everyone else, like they're entitled to all the best things. Same sort of greed, the same control."

Many times you wanted to ask him why won't he go back there, the question lingering in your mind. At some point you thought maybe he just didn't want to, but why would he care if he thought America was the same?

And one time, he answered the question without you even having to ask about it. "Maybe one day this will all end and I will have a place to return to. But until then, I try to survive here with the gang, making our own justice."

You felt so attracted to his words. There was a thrill to being with someone so different, someone who believed in something beyond the rules you had grown up with. Your father's words still haunted you, though.

You knew how disappointed your father was, and that weighted on your chest like a big rock. Not like the guilt would ever stop you from continuing to sneak out.

One night when you sneaked out to meet Javier, he took you on a ride on Boaz. You two rode off to some secluded spot in a forest, stopped just by the river.

"My daddy thinks you're no good for me," you decided to confess, sitting down on the grass, "he always told me men like you are bad."

"Bad? Why bad?" Javier asked, sitting down next to you. He knew the answer, and he knew your father was right.

"You you shoot people, you steal from people, these are sins," you paused, and Javier could see you were figuring it out on your own, "but I know you do this for a good cause."

Javier leaned back, propping his arms behind him. He was aware of the sins he commits, but he knew God forgives him every time. Every man he killed or stole from, he did it in good faith, after all.

You fiddled with a blade of grass, staring down at your hands. "But... don't you fear for your soul?"

Javier replied confidently, "I believe God knows my heart. I think... I hope that God understands."

Your whole life your father had taught you about God, sin and salvation, about the strict path that must be followed without deviation. And, knowing that Javier was a catholic, you thought he'd see it in the same way. But somehow, his beliefs seemed more open, laid back, even if catholicism was supposed to be the branch of christianity more strict than protestantism.

Sensing your uncertainity, Javier reached out, touching you gently. "I don't think God cares about rules as much as He cares about our intentions, mi corazón."

For a moment, you just looked at him, letting him wash you over like the water at your feet. There was something freeing in what he said. Something human and imperfect, but deeply tender. You wondered, for the first time, if there could be a world beyond rules and judgments that you were raised with.

You turned to look at Javier, feeling warmth rise in your cheeks as you abandoned the heavy thoughts that had clouded your mind. "What does mi corazón mean?"

Javier smirked. "It means my heart. Like calling someone darling in english."

Hearing him say it made your own heart quicken. You realized you'd never felt this way with anyone before. As his fingers traced gentle circles on the back of your hand, the touch alone was enough to set aside every doubt you could've had. Javier looked at you with a softness that broke through every barrier, his gaze holding yours like a prayer.

"Is that what I am to you?" You asked, the nickname he used for you making it feel like a promise of eternal love. "You heart?"

"Sí, eres mi corazón." He answered, pulling you closer, and even though you didn't know any spanish, you understood his words well.

And then you allowed him to kiss you, but it didn't stop on that. His actions went further, his movements careful as if afraid of breaking some unspoken vow between the two of you.

You let him guide you our of your clothes, feeling some kind of holiness in his touch, as if he wanted to worship like a deity. Soon after that, he removed each piece of his own clothing too, so that there were no barriers between you.

You'd be lying if you were to state you weren't scared. But the desire you felt was stronger than your fears, even if you've never been with a man like this before.

You were a virgin.

He had you underneath himself, one of his hands supporting his body above yours, while the other gently cupped your chin, guiding your eyes to meet his.

"Don't be afraid, mi corazón, I won't hurt you." He murmured.

"Not what I worry about," you replied, "what if..." you hesitated, feeling the weight of a lifetime's worth of sermons, prayers, and your father's preaching pressing down on you. "What if I'll be condemned to hell for this? For wanting you, for...us?"

"Do you really think a God who made us so full of love would punish you for feeling it, corazón?"

He was right, you knew that. So you did something you hadn't expected yourself to do. Placing your hand on the back of his neck, you pulled him in to kiss him.

At the same time, you felt a new sensation, one so unfamiliar to your body, but one that felt so good. You couldn't help, but gasp as you felt Javier filling you up with his dick. He did it slowly, almost tentatively, as if handling something sacred. Every inch he pushed into you was like an offering for your holy self.

And to him, each sigh, each moan you gave in return was an absolution to his sinful soul. Your bodies fit perfectly together like two hands holding the same rosary.

As your head fell back, the words slipped from your lips, "Oh, God." Both sacred and sinful at the same time, both cursing you for the rest of your life, and sending you straight to Heaven in Javier's embrace.

Javier kissed these words off your lips, his hips never stopping snapping into yours, and the wetter you got, the more rapidly he could fuck into you.

The act got you wondering, why is it considered so sinful when it gives so much pleasure. You were commiting a great sin, giving yourself to a man you weren't married to, but it felt godly. Maybe that was why it was so sinful - because it was indescribably blissful, so divine. Because it made the man seem like some kind of a deity in the moment, instead of the God in the sky directly above.

If you were going to get punished for this, you didn't mind. You didn't care. You could do this a thousand times over and over again.

"Ah, fuck, I'm gonna–" Javier said, feeling himself approaching closer to the edge.

For some reason, despite this being your first time, you knew exactly what his words men. And despite everything that could happen after this, despite all the possible consequences, you once again said something you didn't expect yourself to say.

"Don't pull out," the words left your mouth almost instinctively, "I want you to fill me up."

Every part of you wanted to feel it, to take all of him without hesitation. He did as you asked, filling you up as he reached his high. You felt warmth spread over your body, starting from the center of your abdomen, reaching every place of your body like a strike of lightning, and feeling his release shoot into you made it even more intense.

You were breathless, and Javier stayed buried inside you for a moment longer after the both of you were finished, his cock like a cork stopping his seed from spilling out from your sacret grove.

"I'm starting to understand why people sin so much," you giggled.

[andersonsprincess]

Clarisse La Rue - Golden Kisses

characters - clarisse la rue, child of apollo!reader

contents - kissing thsts pretty much it, also an apollo headcannon of mine 🤭

word count - ~290

a/n - this is a short one, tbh it's kinda bad but in my defense i wrote this at 4am right after waking up 😭 i like the idea so i'll probably rewrite it

it was winter at camp half-blood. the sun still shone as usual, thanks to helios. the air was cold, but something about felt like home somehow.

you were in the infirmary restocking bandages and checking inventory. during the other months there aren't many injuries besides a few bumps and scratches from sparring.

you weren't expecting to stay long in the infirmary since you doubted anyone would come in for anything major. that was until your girlfriend, clarisse, walked through the door calling out to you.

"are you in here?"

"storage room!"

she made her way to the back urgently.

"is something wrong, amica mea?" you asked her without averting your attention from the clipboard in your hands.

she didn't respond and looked at you confused.

when you noticed her silence you looked up at her and smiled bashfully, your golden hue emitting something brighter than usual.

"my love. it's latin."

she walks closer to you, taking the clipboard out of your hand, much to your dismay, and places her hands on your waist, pulling you closer. she presses her soft lips against yours. you quickly kiss her back while wrapping your arms around her neck. the kiss was slow and gentle much like always.

you break the kiss and pull away giggling. "someone's in a good mood."

"shh..you talk too much just kiss me."

you scoffed playfully and placed your lips on hers once again. clarisse kissed you softly and held you even softer. on the outside it was well known that if looks could kill you wouldn't want to be on the receiving end on one of clarisse's death glares. but when it came to you, clarisse was just a lovesick teenage girl.

[angel-maybe-alive]

More things I hate about modern literature because today is a bad day and I need to be a dick online to feel better:

How much sex there is in everything

And again I am not a prude, erotica has existed for decades and it's okay but every popular YA or adventure book nowadays is a bad erotica with some low stakes adventure in the background

And somehow they are able to be both bad porn and bad adventure

And also people will promote those books as " yes the plot kinda sucks but there's good sex scenes"

The word Mary sue

The misuse of the word Mary sue

Any attempt to make a "LOTR inspired" book made by a man

Because usually the things that made LOTR good go just over the authors head and we end with basically a vin diesel movie set in the middle ages

This is not just about modern literature but books about or set in horrible moments for a oppressed minority(like holocaust or slavery) written by people who aren't part of said minority

Coleen hoover

She did for feminist literature what Seth MacFarlane did for adult animation

The harry Potter/Percy Jacksonification of children's literature

The magical choose one trope being taken to a magical world did irremediable damage to children's literature

The mean girl trope

Books set in fictional middle ages but the protagonist go to balls in fashion show modern runaway style dresses

You know the tacky Pinterest glittery showing shoulders back and leg

Those official arts of the same exactly white women and the same white guy in slightly different clothes with the same 2016 style eyebrows and the sharp jawline and the nothing expression

Characters being described as "golden skin" so depending if the author needs some representation points they can be interpreted as people of color but if no one says nothing they stay as just tan white

Comparing dark skin color to any food

How many authors try to make at the same time "this is brainless wish fulfilment fantasy about being desired by a hot dominating guy" and " this is a profound take about the horrors of abuse"

Usually by having the second love interest to abuse the protag

In the end the message that stays is any abuse is forgivable if the abuser is hot enough

The "I'm skinny but not hot super model skinny I am ugly skinny my bones show because of malnourishment"

"yet I don't feel any other effect of starvation like being weak and I can carry five times my body weight in whatever animal the author needs me to hunt in the beginning of the book because making me a farmer wouldn't be cool"

"I am ugly" cried the skinny girl with locks of auburn hair porcelain white skin and eyes of emerald green.

The jk Rowling stupid name school (she named the werewolf Wolfy mcwolf in Latin and people though it was smart now we have a girl who fights on a island named island and the archer who marries a fae named fae archer )

And again faes because fuck faes

[awriterinthenight]

10 Thing I Hate About You, Part 2-Luke Castellan

words: 2178

warnings: Swearing, sword fighting, mention of murder. Some small notes btw, I've stuck to the movie a bit so far to help set up the story, after this I'll probably start branching off. Also I love putting in some of my favorite scenes and lines, its like my favorite part of writing this

summary: Chris now needs a plan to ask out Bianca. So, him, Connor, and Travis need someone to take out reader, but they need someone to pay for it. So, who better than Joey to pay Luke to do so.

"Hello Y/N, make anyone cry today?" Dionysus asked, in an unamused tone. Her and Mr. D had always had a small relationship, due to the fact she'd been there for so long, and if Mr. D ever wanted to hate on campers, she was the perfect counselor to do it with.

"Sadly no, but it's only 4:30," she said, walking towards her table where she sat by herself. Since she and her sister were in different cabins they didn't sit with each other, and never really snuck over to the other's table, unless they had something important to share.

When dinner ended she walked with Bianca towards the campfire with Bianca's cabin. "So, why were you walking with Joey," Y/N asked, protective of her little sister.

"We were just walking. It's not I'm him," she said, used to her sister's protectiveness by now.

Y/N scoffed, "Yeah, cause I would never let you," she told her sister.

"Why can't I date anyone, it's just a boy?" Bianca asked, since recently she'd been getting annoyed by the fact that she apparently wasn't allowed to date anyone.

"Because, have you seen the unwashed miscreants that go to this camp," the older girl said.

Bianca sighed, "Can't I just go on one date, it can't hurt," she pleaded with her sister, desperate to have at least one normal part of her life.

Y/N rolled her eyes, sighing, "Fine, you can date," she started, getting her sister's hopes up, "When I do," she finished, crushing Bianca's spirit.

"But, no one dates you," her sister complained.

"Great, then you won't date either, problem solved," she said, walking away now, since she never went to the campfires, because she thought they were boring.

"You suck," Bianca mumbled, so her sister wouldn't hear.

Unfortunately she did, and mocked her, "You suck."

***

Chris was out by one of the picnic tables waiting for Bianca to show up. He'd spent the past couple of days learning as much Latin as possible. When Bianca finally showed up, she seemed in a hurry to leave.

"Can we make this quick, Stephanie and Joe are having a hideous break up in the pavilion, again" she told him.

He stumbled over his words, trying to do his best to ask her out, "Well I was thinking we could start with all pronunciations," he said, rather nervous to be near her.

She groaned, "Not all the boring stuff please," she complained, rather hating Latin.

"W-well there is an alternative," Chris said, mustering up all the courage he had.

Bianca lit up, excited that maybe there was an alternative, "There is?"

Chris took in a breath, nodding his head, "Yeah, we can do something not boring, like maybe getting food together sometime," he finally asked, anxious for her answer.

"Are you asking me out?" Bianca asked, a bit shocked, "That's so cute, what's your name again?"

"Uh, Chris. Look I know your sister doesn't let you date, but I was thinking if it was for Latin tutoring, then maybe-" he said, getting cut off by Bianca.

"Oh wait a minute, Curtis," she said, getting his name wrong.

"Chris," he said, correcting her.

She continued, ignoring his correction, "My sister just came up with a new rule. I can date when she does," she told him, trying to figure out a work around of her sister's absurd rule.

"Really, then I heard there's this great spot by the-" he tried telling her, getting cut off again.

"The problem is that my sister is a particularly cruel person, no one would want to date her," Bianca said, presenting him the main issue, slightly insulting her sister.

Chris started to lose hope, but tried to think of a solution, "Well, there has to be someone willing to date a difficult person like her," trying desperately to think of a solution, "People do such extreme stuff all the time, it'll be like extreme dating."

Bianca smiled brightly, "You'd find someone like that for me?" she asked, touched by how much he was willing to do for her.

"Hell yeah, of course I would," he exclaimed, joyful that maybe he could actually go one a date with her.

***

Chris met up with Travis the next day in hopes of finding someone willing to date Bianca's sister.

"I have put together the perfect group of eligible bachelors," Travis said, leading Chris to a hidden part of the camp. When Chris arrived he saw a group of...odd people, but maybe this could work.

"Hi, are any of you interested in dating Y/N Stratford."

The first guy just laughed in their faces.

The second one sat in silence, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else.

"I've never been that ripped," the guy who was probably high, said.

"Maybe if we were the last two people alive, and there were no sheep. Are there sheep?" the next guy asked, as they decided he was a lost cause.

The last guy was the worst. Screaming bloody murder as if they murdered his family in front of him.

***

"Didn't I tell you, it was pointless. No one will date her," Connor said, as Chris and Travis filled him in on everything that happened.

Chris looked up at some random guy across the art and crafts room and asked, "Hey, what about him?" as they guy took a pair of scissors and carved something into the table.

Travis and Connor turned around, then immediately back at Chris, "No no no, not him. I heard he almost lit a satyr on fire once. He just did a year away from camp," Travis warned him.

Chris smirked, "Well at least he's horny," he joked.

Connor just shook his head, "We're serious man, he's whacked."

"I heard he sold liver on the black market for a new set of speakers," Travis said, spreading a rumor that was probably false.

Chris looked back over as he lit a cigarette, and his friend put it out. "He's our guy," Chris assured the Stolls. He continued to look until the guy looked back, scaring the three of them. "Who is he anyway?" Chris asked, curious about the guy he was about to set up with his future girlfriend's sister.

Travis sighed, "That's Luke Castellan, Hermes counselor. Technically our brother," Travis informed.

"Bit of an asshole sometimes, but he has his good days," Connor added, "But mostly people ignore him."

***

Chris and Connor entered the arena where Luke was training, in hopes of getting him to go out with Y/N. "Hi, so I was wondering if you-" Chris started, getting cut off by Luke pointing his sword at Chris' throat, "Never mind," he said, no walking out as fast as possible.

***

"So, how do we get him to date Y/N," Travis asked, after hearing Chris and Connor's story of their interaction with Luke.

Chris was deep in thought, "Well, maybe we could pay him, but we don't have any money," he suggested.

"Well then what we need is a backer," Travis suggested, getting confused looks, "You know, someone with money who's stupid."

***

Travis, who drew the short end of the straw, went and sat at Joey's table, "Is that a peach, you don't see many around here," he said, reaching for it, but getting his hand slapped.

"You lost?" Joey questioned, annoyed by Travis sitting at the Ares table.

"Well no, I just came to run something by you," Travis said, as Joey took his face and started to draw on it. "I had an idea I thought I would run by you."

"Does this conversation have a purpose?"

Travis cleared his throat, "Well yes, you want to date Bianca Stratford right.

"Yeah, what's it to you?"

"You know how her sister is whacked, right. Well she made a new rule that Bianca can date when she does. Now you need someone to date her, since she's an extreme headcase. So, you could pay someone like him to do it," Travis explained, pointing to Luke over at the Hermes table.

"What's in it for you," Joey asked, suspicious of why he would help him.

Travis cleared his throat again, "If I'm walking in the halls and I say hello, you say it back," Travis proposed.

"Yeah, yeah, you're cool by adjacence," Joey said, "Well, I'll think about it." Travis sat there a minute longer than he should have, "That means scram," Joey told him harshly.

The next moment Travis got up and went back to his brother and friend, "He's on board," he informed them of their victory.

"That's great," Chris exclaimed, as Connor patted Travis' shoulder and walked away, both of them trying not to laugh.

"I have a dick on my face, don't I," Travis exclaimed, watching his friend and brother walk away chuckling.

***

Joey approached Luke, who was sitting on a bench with some friends, "Hey, nice cigarette, huh," he said, as Luke lit another cigarette.

"What," Luke said, confused.

"You see that girl over there," Joey said, as Luke nodded, "That's Y/N Stratford, I want you to take her out."

"Sure, Sparky," Luke said, blowing out smoke.

"Look she's a bit whacked. She has this rule that her sister can't date till she does, and I want to take her sister out so-" he told Luke before getting cut off.

"Good story, not my problem."

"Would you make it your problem if I offered compensation?" Joey asked, trying to bribe him.

Luke seemed to be in thought for a moment, "How much?" he asked.

"20 bucks," he said, looking over at her where she just knocked a camper over while sword fighting them, "Fine, 30."

Luke got up and started to walk around Joey, "If I take her out that'll cost me about 40 bucks, and she'll probably want dinner. Now that's around 55 bucks, then to cover other costs that'll be about 75," Luke said, stating his final price.

"This isn't a negotiation, take it or leave it," Joey said, starting to get annoyed.

"50 and we have a deal," Luke offered. Joey then handed him the cash in agreement, as Luke went to go talk to Y/N.

***

1st person, Y/N Stratford

I was walking back from where I was training, to head to my bag and grab water. Unluckily for me, I was intercepted on my way there, "Hey there princess, how are you?" he asked, sounding strangely upbeat.

"Sweating like a pig, and you?" I asked, slightly annoyed.

He smiled, "Now that's the way to get a guy's attention," he said sarcastically.

"My mission in life," I said, my voice full of annoyance and sarcasm. I started to walk away from him, but he followed.

"I'll pick you up on Friday then," he said, walking by my side.

I just scoffed, shaking my head, "Yeah, Friday uh-huh," I said, annoyed he wouldn't take a hint and leave.

"I can show you places you've never seen before," he continued, trying to get me to agree.

"Where, like Zeus' fist," I said, trying to walk away, "Do you even know my name, screw boy?"

"I know a lot more than you think," he said, rather cryptically. At that point I just walked away, leaving him there to ponder.

Over in a corner by the arena Chris, Connor, and Travis were watching the whole scene, "We're screwed," Chris stated bluntly.

"I don't want to hear that defeatist attitude," Connor said, trying to not give up hope,

"We're screwed," Chris said again, but more cheerfully and upbeat this time.

"That's the spirit," Travis exclaimed.

***

"Nice music taste," I heard someone say, as I was leaving the Hermes cabin. Usually some of them are able to smuggle in good cds, so I would buy some occasionally.

"What are you stalking me now," I accused, annoyed at him.

He scoffed, "This is my cabin, and I saw you leaving. Thought I'd said hi at least," he defended.

"Hi," I deadpanned, walking out of the cabin.

He followed me out of the cabin asking, "Not a big talker, huh?"

"Not with you," I stated bluntly.

"You're not afraid of me are you?"

"Afraid of you, why would I be afraid of you?"

"Well, most people are."

"Well I'm not."

"Maybe you're not afraid of me, but I'm sure you've thought about me naked."

"Am I that transparent? I want you, I need you, oh baby oh baby," I mocked sarcastically. At that he finally walked away seeming to give up. Just when I thought I was in the clear for being left alone, Joey had to walk past, shoulder checking me.

I wasn't gonna let that slide, so I stuck out my foot tripping him. Startled, he fell flat on his face, so hard I could hear his nose crack.

"Oh, you bitch," he exclaimed, standing back up.

"Whoops."

Out of the corner of my eye I could see Luke standing there, looking proud, which made me slightly smile, but I did my best to hide it. He still noticed though.

[worthyprnce]

gwaine had many hidden talents.

we all know about his amazing skills with swordfighting. a skill he learnt from watching knights and squires play and fight, from picking up fights even being too young to do that and during his many years traveling alone. he had to know how to defend himself and, most importantly for him in the begging of his life, his mother and sister as well. but that's not all he knew.

growing up without his father to teach him the arts of sword fight, he learnt a lot from his mother and older sister instead. at seven he got tired of his clothes tearing up all the time, so he asked his mother to teach him how to sew. even after becoming a knight, gwaine took a few minutes to mend his own clothes whenever he could. he needed this time alone. at nine, his sister taught him about the language of flowers and how to dance. he did it for them. he used to steal flowers from luxurious gardens around to gift his mother and sister, and he always took them to dance, using any excuses to do it. he just loved it, and he loved to see them happy, not worrying about money or grieving for once.

at eleven he already knew how to steal food from the market without getting caught. and he was an excellent bargainer too. he was known by some as the child who stole valuable objects from distracted rich people and sold them at a lower price afterwords. robin hood style. it didn't take him too long to learn how to make his own dagger. courtesy of the local blacksmith who took pity on him and his family.

but most of his little secret talents he learned along his travels, wandering alone after leaving home at an early age. he learned to play the lute, to play cards, to steal by cheating playing cards, how to get easy money, how to impress a girl, how to impress a boy, how to whistle, to cook — although he was not actually good at it, just very practical. he knew french, a little latin, how to orient himself by the stars, how to bandage a wound by himself and what to do if it became infected, body anatomy (for medical and first aid reasons only. mostly), cut his own hair, trim his own beard, how to read maps, how to identify poisonous mushrooms, how to cut wood for fire, to swim, and many other little things.

but the hidden talent he was most proud of, was his drawing skills.

when he was around twenty, he once saw an elderly man struggling with a few home repairs he had, and decided to help him. as a return, the old man let him stay in his home for a few days. gwaine soon found out the man loved to draw. he had plenty of sketchbooks filled with many different portraits and landscapes, gwaine was in awe. seeing gwaine's genuine interest, the old man taught some basic and quick drawing principles, and gave gwaine a sketchbook and a pencil as a gift for all the help and company.

during his long years alone walking aimlessly around, gwaine used his sketches to immortalise every place he passed, every interesting person he met along the way, passions that made his heart beat differently, animals he helped save, taverns that served a good ale.

by the time he met merlin, his sketchbook pages were full of sketches of camelot, gaius' chambers, bottles of potions with funny names, little details inside the castle most people wouldn't even notice. but gwaine did.

he found himself making sketches of gwen with flowers in her hair, of arthur with the worst expression possible, of gaius with his usual worried face. but merlin was the main focus of his new drawings. every page had a sketch of merlin, doesn't matter how big or small.

and when gwaine was no longer in camelot, he realized his mind had never left merlin's room. he went back into drawing landscapes and taverns, but no other person were interesting enough. not when he once had merlin.

the pages of his sketchbook were getting boring and lifeless, not what they used to be before. but it seemed like they would come back to life whenever gwaine and merlin were together again. he had many sketches of merlin with white lillies around him, merlin's eyes shining as bright as they did the night gwaine confessed he was doing it all for him, wyverns, an old and dirty trident he had no idea what it actually was for but he liked the shape of it. even arthur made a comeback to his sketchbook.

when he was made prisoner by jarl, he lost all of his sketchbooks. everything inside his bag was stolen and discarded, and since gwaine's escape was rushed, he had no opportunity to try and find it. he lost it all, all the memories of his travels, the beautiful places he saw, the people he met, his early adventures with merlin. all lost. he had only his memory now.

after he became a knight he was reluctant to go back to his old hobby. still bitter about losing it all suddenly. but after getting to know his new friends better, and after he started to see merlin everyday, he couldn't resist.

he used every moment he had alone to draw. he loved drawing lancelot's hair. he had his fun giving leon extra curls. elyan, percival, and even lesser known knights and guards owned gwaine's sketchbook pages.

but his muse was always merlin. drawing merlin was like muscle memory for him. he would be lying if he said he never lost himself in his own thoughts while admiring merlin's features and carving them into his memory so he could draw him later.

his drawings were directly affected by his mood, so it was easy to know when he was angry or upset. but there was only one emotion showing whenever he drew merlin, and it was love. pure, powerful and unconditional love. sometimes a brokenhearted love. sometimes a melancholic love. and there were even the times he felt a certain kind of guilty love, a mixture of insecurity and uncertainty. but it was always love. and it was always merlin.

the first sketch he made after getting back to draw was a memory very dear to him of the first day he met merlin. he was smiling, looking at gwaine with hopes he would stay, begging him with his eyes and words for gwaine to stay in camelot with him. for him. whatever his reason was, he wanted gwaine close, and gwaine remembered those eyes and words very clearly.

his last sketch was also one he made of merlin. he was smiling as he held gwaine's hand. just before he was the one leaving gwaine this time. and even though gwaine had his eyes blurred by tears, he made his best to register merlin in his pages one more time, one last time, forever.

[vivalgi]

What in the AI f*ckery is PB up to again? There is 0 doubt the cover "art" for TDG was largely done with the help of AI tools.

Let's start with Farah. There's a lot of similarities in the hair between the in-game sprite and the cover "art" portrait, so PB probably fed both images and text prompts to the generator. What gives away that it's AI generated though is that part of the hair on the right side is randomly swept back.

Upon initial look Dante looks pretty genuine, a suave Latin-American actor, if not for the t-shirt changing to dress shirt. But if you zoom into the hair, it's definitely an AI generated smudgy mess.

This young nerdy girl with deer-in-the-headlights look and piggy nose is supposed to be our deadpan doctor.

I'm pretty sure I've seen this actress in an early 2000s black comedy movie. The hair color is totally wrong as well.

People have complained for a long time that Choices (East) Asian characters don't look very ...Asian. Probably that's why this generic young K-pop starlet looks nothing like Astoria the influencer lady in TDG.

The "artist" inserting the prompts should have clarified to AI that the COO has no gray hair or goatee. The pattern on his jacket doesn't even match his roleplay costume.

PB just generated a random black guy and copy-pasted the toupée on his head, which is probably one of the only two non-AI generated objects in the cover "art".

She is literally Sarah Hyland!

Again, like with the influencer above, the AI isn't aware that generally Asian men in Choices look big and bulky, along with other western beauty ideals.

Please stop this bullsh*t, @playchoices! AI generated images are not art, it's blatant theft. In order to train their AI tools, companies steal billions of artwork made by hardworking and underpaid artists. I'm certain you wouldn't be happy either if someone used your stories and artwork without your consent for training their AI to then profit from it.

sprites: 1; 2

cover image

[lilahisntsadanymore]

Neil helps his best friend's sister with Latin. The problem is - he has a crush on her, but knows they could never be together. After all, he couldn't date Charlie's family, it's against the rules. And secondly - Neil is sure Y/n wouldn't have ever talked to him if it wasn't for the tutoring.

Pairing: Neil Perry x dalton!fem!reader

Words count: 1.5k

Warnings: none

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Tutoring

"Thank you for helping me, Neil." Y/n said as she closed the door of her room. She stopped for a moment and then added, "I didn't ask if you wanted something to drink. Shall I bring tea? Coffee? Juice?"

"Water would be perfect," Neil sent the girl a smile.

As Y/n walked to the kitchen for two glasses of water, Neil unpacked his bag. He had some notes that could be helpful for whatever Y/n could need help with. He was a year ahead, so the things she was learning now, he knew cold.

At least tutoring let him spend some time with Y/n. Charlie wouldn't have a problem with his best friend and his sister having a thing, but that wasn't the problem. The Daltons were rich and that was the problem. If it wasn't for the tutoring, Y/n probably wouldn't even have talked to Neil. Neil's family wasn't poor, they had enough money to send him to Welton, but his father worked hard for this.

"Okay, I'm back!" Y/n announced, setting the cups with water on her nightstand, far away from the books.

"Great, so, what do you have a problem with?" Neil asked, taking a seat by Y/n's desk.

The girl sat down on a chair next to him, smiling. "Oh, you know... Latin." She giggled awkwardly, putting a strand of her hair behind her ear.

Oh, how beautiful she looked in that moment. A bit blushed, smiling awkwardly. Neil was mesmerized and almost forgot what he came here for.

"Yes, but what in particular?" He tried masking his infatuation. And he was good at it so far.

"You know what, the desk feels uncomfortable for two people, doesn't it?" Y/n grabbed the book and tossed it onto the bed. "Let's sit there, shall we?"

And so they did. In front of each other, with their legs crossed. Neil forgot about his glasses, but he quickly reached into his bag to search for them.

Now Y/n seemed to be a little mesmerized. She hadn't seen him wearing glasses before and that was a very flattering model for him. Neil looked so attractive.

"Glasses suit you," the girl complimented, "do you ever wear them, you know, outside of studying?"

"No," he chuckled, "I don't need to." Right after this he said it, he scolded himself, in his head of course, for saying it. To make it less awkward he added, "Although thank you."

"No problem." Was it Neil's brain playing tricks on him, or did Y/n sound disappointed by his reply? "Okay, so let's start."

"What shall we start with? Do you wanna start from the beginning, or...?"

"No, no, not from the beginnings. I understand the basics, but it's get pretty difficult later on..."

"Yeah, languages have that thing where they get harder the more advanced they get."

The joke made Y/n smile. She pushed Neil playfully and he theatrically pretended it hurt him.

"Maybe we should start with ACI?"

"Accusativus cum infinitivo," Neil smiled at the memory of Charlie laughing at the word 'cum' every time, but to Y/n it just seemed like a kind smile sent to her. "Alright, let's start."

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

"I don't get it, Neil, I just don't!" Y/n whined pathetically. She felt truly hopeless if even Neil couldn't help her.

"No, Y/n, calm down, please, and listen to me." He ordered in a lower, but still kind voice.

Y/n looked at him with worry in her eyes. Worry and fear, but she wasn't scared of him. She was scared of not passing the class, failing her whole education.

Her eyes are so beautiful, Neil thought, she looks like a lost, little doe.

"I know what your problem is," he continued, "you don't know the declensions."

"Well, have you seen how many of those are there?"

"Yes, there are five. But why can't you remember them? From what I've seen today, you don't have a problem with conjugations."

"There's only four of those. And they just make more sense, you know? They feel natural to me. Meanwhile how am I supposed to remember it's puella, puellae, another puellae, puellam, puella with the funny line above the a and vocativus is the same as nominativus?"

"Not to brag, but I must be a really good teacher because you've just recited the first declension in singularis."

"I did?" Y/n beamed at the realization. "Neil, you're amazing!" She threw herself onto Neil, closing him in a very tight hug.

They were laying down on the bed. Neil was on his back and Y/n was on top of him. This moment lasted a bit longer than it was appropriate.

Y/n raised herself up, she went back to sit in the spot she was. She realized how inappropriate it was. She thought Neil must've felt so awkward right now. So she began apologizing and explaining.

"I'm sorry." She said. "I made it awkward, didn't I? I don't know what got into me. I guess I just- I don't- okay, there's no explanation," she knew she might take the explaining too far, but she didn't know how to stop this stream of words. "There is an explanation, actually. I like you, yes you've heard it right, I like you. More than a friend, I've had a crush from you since I met you."

Neil sat back in the cross-legged position. He was astonished by this confession. Not because he didn't feel the same. The thing was he did feel the same, but had no idea Y/n would, so he never prepared himself for this moment. He didn't know what to say, because it seemed so impossible to him. It was never supposed to happen.

"Oh no," a whine came from Y/n's mouth, "I knew I shouldn't have said that. I'm so sorry, again. The way we looked at each other today, I thought the feelings were mutual."

"Y/n, calm down." Neil tried to keep his voice relaxed. He didn't want to make himself seem too excited, that could creep the girl out. "I do feel the same."

"You do?"

"I do, I just didn't know you would. That's why I've tried to keep it to myself."

His confession gave Y/n a bit of confidence. "You weren't so good at keeping this a secret today, the way you looked at me was... giving me signals, let's say."

When this problem was solved, there arised another. What were they going to do with it?

"So... what happens now?" Y/n asked.

"I'm asking myself the same question."

"Should we tell Charlie?" Tell him what though, Y/n? Y/n asked herself, This confession didn't change anything, you're not suddenly dating.

"No," Neil laughed, "I don't think he's ready. I don't think he's mature enough."

Y/n nodded with a smile on her face, but didn't say anything. So Neil continued.

"Would you like to start going on dates?"

"Sure, I would love that. What's your first date idea?" Y/n gave Neil a cheeky smile.

Neil's hand suddenly happened to be on Y/n's, intertwined by the fingers. "I will take you to my rehearsal. Afterwards, we can go eat something or have ice cream. What do you say?"

Without an answer, the girl scooted closer to him. Eventually, she gave Neil a reply. "I say, it is a nice idea. You must look so good on the stage, doing what you love to do."

In that moment, Neil blushed, but what made him blush even more, was Y/n's next action. She put her hand on his jawline and pulled him in for a kiss.

He didn't hesitate to kiss her back, but decided to let Y/n stay in control of the pace and everything else. It was a slow, very romantic kiss. It wasn't awkward, it felt as if they kissed so many times before, their lips co-worked just perfectly.

Soon, Neil's hands found their way to Y/n's waist to pull her closer. A moment later, the lovers were laying down on the bed again. But it wasn't going to go anywhere further than this kiss. Neither of them were ready, besides they've just confessed their feelings, it would be too quick.

After a while, Y/n pulled away, letting Neil and herself catch a breath. She laid down next to the boy, taking his hand in hers. She felt him rub her hand with his thumb. It felt so reassuring. Whatever happens later, we'll get through it.

If Charlie finds out, then he finds out and there's nothing he can do about it. If he doesn't like it, it's his problem, he should be mature enough to understand it.

If the parents find out, either Y/n's or Neil's (it didn't matter, because whoever found out, they would tell one another), then that would be a problem. But Neil was sure he would do something about it, he would make up a solution. It wouldn't be the first time he went against his parents' will.

In the worst case, Y/n and Neil would have to wait until they finish high school. After that, they would be adults, free to do whatever they wanted to. Whatever was going to happen, everything would work out in their favour.

[shortstrawberry]

I know, I know. It was Bela's b'day yesterday and I didn't post anything. However, I'm finally free now!

So here's a small sneak peak from my upcoming long oneshot. Bela has her heart back and she is trying to woo the dumbass oblivious MC.

Things have been quite... same ever since the whole debacle with Headmistress and the whole "get Bela's heart back" passed. Not that you were expecting anything earth shattering different to happen. Bela Dimitrescu is still the same draconian workaholic Student Council President who somehow manages to be a straight A grade student. You are still her Vice President, buried under the tons and tons of paperwork that gets passed along your way.

However, since past four months, from the day Bela received her heart back and fainted whispering "You have pretty eyes", certain events have happened that you cannot explain.

Exhibit A: Student Council President fussing after your sick self

"Acchhoooo!"

You loudly sneeze against the tissue paper, trying in vain to contain the droplets inside it. You are normally a shameless cretin who wouldn't hide your sneezing with tissue when alone, sick and dying in your room. But that's the thing. You are very much not alone.

A gorgeous blonde head popped out of your small kitchenette, looking at you with a reprimanding glare.

You shyly hide yourself underneath the blanket, knowing what your president is about to ask you.

"Did you use the nasal spray I brought you?"

You did not answer, still remaining hidden underneath your weighted blanket. You heard a soft beautiful sigh accompanied by approaching footsteps, and you just couldn't help but wonder how can a girl make sighing sound pretty.

The bedsheets were ripped off from you, and you found your answer to your question as you met the intense gaze of one Bela Dimitrescu.

Of course, if anyone can make breathing beautiful, it is this gorgeous blonde. You swear the song "Gorgeous" by Taylor Swift was written for her.

"cor meum, how will you become better if you don't take care of yourself?"

You gave your council president a petulant look, your mouth pouting against your will. You know you are being childish right now against someone who is only trying to take care of you. The said someone has taken out time from their packed schedule to cook some stew for you. But you are sick with fever and cold and you have a feeling the council president will give you a pass this one time.

"That spray stings my nose! I don't wanna use it!"

Bela's eyes immediately softened at your pouty voice, her eyebrows drawing close in focused attention. She tilted her head just slightly to the right, her pale pink lips rising in a amused and affectionate (?) smile.

"cor meum, you haven't taken your inhaler, have you? It will clear up your nose, and you will be able to breathe freely."

Of course you know all of that, but you choose to ignore it. Bela is being uncharacteristically lenient right now, even if she has been soft these days ever since she got her heart back. But today's Bela is still the softest you have ever witnessed.

For starters, she dragged you home from Council work and declared you are on leave until you get better. Then she made you take medicines and sleep while she worked besides you on her laptop. When you woke up, you had lunch waiting for you.

And now it is dinner time and Bela is still here. Not that you want her to go away. Your sleepy sick mind even wanted her to stay forever. Something your usual self won't even dream of.

Taking advantage of the boldness or rather foolishness your fever is giving you, you go ahead and ask what has forever been nagging you. Since the day certain someone got her heart back and started to look at you with strange, different emotion.

"You keep calling me that. What does it mean? What language is it even? Latin?"

The beautiful blonde looked at you carefully, before answering you back in a even more amused voice.

"Yes, and it means 'stupid heart'. Because you have a silly, moronic heart that makes you do careless things like walking back to your home when its raining a storm."

You pout, defending yourself immediately. Even if you remember that incident fondly.

"I had only one umbrella and you were staying back to work! What if you had to go back under rain? So I left the umbrella for you!"

Bela in answer looked away, a hint of pink creeping up her cheeks. She hurriedly draped the blanket on top of you, before settling down besides you and flicking your forehead.

It was a soft flick, clearly a affectionate gesture. Something Bela has been doing a lot lately. You stay up too late working? Sending you away to sleep and flick against forehead. You forget to eat breakfast? A croissant and flick against your forehead. You forget to text her that you have reached home? She will come to your home and flick your forehead.

Strangely enough, you have come to crave these flicks to your forehead. It shows that the once heartless girl...now cares for you.

Well, she had cared for you even when without a heart, as a similiar scene played from your memories. The scowling Student Council President demanding you have her homemade soup.

Now the only difference is that Bela is looking at you with the purest look of concern and offering to apply nasal spray on you herself.

"Here, give me the spray. I will do it myself because someone has become a helpless child."

You only grin cheekily, but let Bela do what she wants. You have troubled the poor blonde enough. And you have a feeling the dinner Bela is making will start burning soon if you keep her any longer.

With two whiffs of spray you were out like a light, sleep coming to you in minutes, You mumble a soft yes when Bela tucks you in, telling you that she would wake you up in time of dinner.

Unbeknownst to your peaceful sleeping self, the eldest Dimitrescu sister stayed besides you for few long minutes, gazing at you with the softest expression.

A soft, feathery kiss was laid on your forehead. Right where she flicks you all the time.

"It means my heart. You are my cor meum."

Cor meum means "my heart" in Latin according to Google Translate.

[copajay]

high society

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

masterlist

HAPPY NEW YEARSSS im going through a bridgerton phase rn and was reminded of my quarantine obsession w jane austen and enhypen so here's a jake period piece :P

summary: it's the early 19th century regency era, you belong to a well-known noble family but your father has been noticing a decline in his finances. determined to save the estate and his honor, he encourages you to mingle with any and every suitable bachelor in your town to secure the family fortune through marriage. none of them catch your eye, until you meet park sunghoon...'s stableman. (not proofread)

date: 01/01/24

scenario themes: period piece, rich girl broke dude cliche

idol: jake sim or sim jaeyun of enhypen

concept: fluff

warnings: mentions of hitting women (nothing crazy i swear)

word count: 7.28k

it was a typical sunday morning, you woke up in your satin sheets, calling to your servants to ready you for the day. after getting dressed and having your hair fixed, you made your way down the stairs to enjoy breakfast with your family as usual.

you've always enjoyed a life of luxury. belonging to a dignified household constantly bustling with an array of servants, housekeepers, cooks, and more, you never felt any need to marry.

why go from such a grand, happy estate to a smaller one to live with complete strangers as opposed to the hands that practically raised you? why abandon your daily latin lessons with your governess to listen to your mother-in-law lecture you about producing an heir?

luckily, you were the youngest daughter of six siblings, three girls and three boys. your brothers ensured your family name would survive and your sisters provided your parents with plenty of marriage proposals to occupy themselves with. there was absolutely no reason for you to be wed any time soon.

at least that's what you thought before you sat down to breakfast. "good morning, y/n" your mother greeted. "good morning mother, father." you acknowledged the man sitting across the table from you, occupied with a small journal in his hands.

as you were about to take a sip of your morning tea, you heard your father sigh, exasperated. "what seems to be the matter, father?" your elder sister asked, eyeing the journal.

"i'm simply going over finances. there's no need to panic as it is a matter of little emergency. we will need to find a new source of income by next sunday, and since your lazy and careless brothers cannot be bothered to fulfill their duties as men, it is up to you girls to marry men who can." he asserted.

unaffected, you continued to pick at your breakfast. you have two older sisters who are perfectly fit to wed, why should you worry?

"we have already begun looking for matches for catherine and y/n." your mother noted. your head shot up upon hearing your name, "pardon me?" you exclaimed, "what about arabella? she's the eldest of all of us."

"we have been looking for a suitor for arabella for a twelvemonth now. she is clearly unfit to be a bride, just look at her!" your mother began, prompting your oldest sibling to roll her eyes.

arabella has always been... unladylike to say the least. she sported breeches while horse riding and insisted on discussing politics and sports instead of more suitable feminine topics. it's no surprise most of the men in this age couldn't stand her.

you personally never minded. she did a better job educating you than your own governess, reading controversial female literature to you and encouraging you to avoid marriage for as long as you can, which you gladly did.

unfortunately, you weren't as forward as arabella. you wouldn't dare disagree with your parents like her, recalling how she boldly rejected a marriage proposal from a wealthy lord, angering your father.

you bit your tongue to prevent a protest from leaving your lips. what are the odds you'll actually find someone? all you have to do is push away all the suitors long enough for catherine to find someone. after all, she was a model young lady: quiet, pretty enough, and obedient.

you, on the other hand, could only be described as spoiled and insolent. perhaps not as impertinent as arabella, but you were definitely sassy in your own right. most men found your attitude off-putting and made empty threats to "whip you into shape".

"enough of this discussion. we will be attending a ball tonight in an attempt to mingle with some members of high society. I expect you girls to be on your best behavior. and be sure to invite any potential bachelors to our estate for tea!" your mother rambled.

you were undoubtedly annoyed at the circumstances, but oh how you loved getting ready for functions like these. wearing your nicest gowns, displaying your expensive jewelry and unique hair styles. then, actually arriving at the formal and being able to listen to delightful pianoforte and dance with strangers.

the ball was being held by the park estate, renowned throughout the province for being incredibly wealthy. the parks had four sons, two of whom were already married. which left sunghoon and jay as the biggest targets of every unmarried girl within a ten kilometer radius.

they were quite handsome, but you weren't interested in either. perhaps they'd make good matches for catherine, supplying your family with an alarming amount of wealth and allowing you to remain a happy spinster for the rest of your days.

before you knew it, it was time to ready yourself for the ball. excitedly, you threw on your finest corset and carefully selected your prettiest lavender gown, pairing it with a dainty pearl set.

as you situated yourself in the carriage with your sisters and mother, you couldn't help but zone out as they excitedly discussed meeting the park brothers. "i hope jay asks me for a dance!" catherine giggled, prompting arabella to shift uncomfortably.

she always seemed to react a bit oddly to any mentions of jay. you honestly didn't mind him, he's generous and far more liberal than most men. maybe not liberal enough for arabella, but you suppose nobody is.

by the time you reached the park estate, you excitedly jumped out of the carriage first, rushing into the doors of the large manor. you're not one to be impressed by ostentatious displays of wealth, but by God was this place striking.

marble and gold mosaic lined the interior walls with chandeliers latched onto the high ceilings, illuminating the magnificent paintings along the walls. a group of musicians was situated in the corner of the large room, playing loudly as dozens of ladies and lords conversed, dressed to the nines.

you looked to your left and noticed arabella fiddling with her dress. grasping her hand, you smiled before sighing, "isn't it beautiful?"

she playfully rolled her eyes, "it is, but not beautiful enough to marry into this mad family. don't fall for whatever trap mother and father are attempting to catch you in." she warned.

"yes, yes, I know. can't you just enjoy the ball?" you pleaded. she simply shook her head and announced that she would be heading to the garden for some solitude. as odd as she is, your sister is dear to you and you'd like to see her happily settled down with a good man one day.

turning, you were greeted with the sight of park sunghoon. great. you could see your mother eyeing you in your peripheral vision so now you had to acknowledge him.

"hello, sunghoon." you half-smiled and curtsied. he bowed in response, "good evening, y/n. would you care to join me for a dance?" he asked, extending his arm to you. i'd rather eat dirt. "I would love to." you took his arm.

it's not like you dislike sunghoon. he's a proper gentleman. he enjoys hunting and composing music, he's tall, handsome, and not to mention extremely well-off. but he bored you to no end, and he was very old-fashioned.

you vividly remember overhearing a conversation between him and your brothers, where he proudly claimed he would spank arabella until she behaved if he was her husband. you also remember jay getting quite upset at him afterward.

"i heard your parents were looking to give your hand" he started, interrupting your thoughts. "yes, it appears so." you responded, absentmindedly. "have you met anyone suitable yet?" he carefully continued.

you weren't an idiot. it's apparent sunghoon has had a sort of infatuation with you for a while now. "no, not yet." you sighed. you didn't miss how his eyebrow raised. uncomfortable, you decided to excuse yourself, "I need to freshen up. would you mind pointing me in the direction of the bath?"

"certainly." he responded, sounding rather annoyed. after showing you the way, you practically sprinted out the door in your heels, desperate to get away from the smell of his headache-inducing fragrance.

you spotted a greenhouse and deduced it must be close to the garden, where arabella should be. making your way there, you stopped in your tracks when you heard a clanging noise followed by muffled shushes.

deciding to investigate, you inched closer to the source of the sound and nearly yelped at the sight.

you saw arabella and jay embracing one another. but not just embracing. they were fondling, kissing, grasping at one another. it was quite possibly the most lewd thing you've ever seen.

you didn't know what to say or how to react. so you turned and ran in the opposite direction, praying neither of them saw you. unfortunately for you, you're completely unfamiliar with the grounds and ended up running headfirst into a door.

you fell on the ground with a pounding pain in your temple. sitting up, you looked around for a clue as to where you were but to no avail. you were too dumbfounded at the sight you just witnessed to process anything else.

thankfully, you heard footsteps rushing to where you were and a strong pair of arms lifting you up. "are you alright, ma'am?" the stranger's voice fretted.

"yes, yes I--arabella. OH MY GOODNESS ARABELLA. you have to help me sir." you grasped at the thin, cloth shirt the boy opposite you was wearing.

"who's arabella? what's wrong?" the man asked. you noticed he had a very peculiar accent, one that sounded more akin to commoners. his clothing was quite dirty as well. he must've been a new servant, probably a stablehand.

"my sister. she was--he--jay was... doing something to her." you rasped. it wasn't long before the man began chuckling. "oh yes, they do that quite often."

he slowly released his grip on you and stepped back. "you need not worry about her. would you like assistance heading back to the ball, ma'am?"

he turned around before you even responded, heading towards the manor before you grabbed his arm. "wait. i would actually prefer to stay out here."

you must sound like an idiot. and the puzzled look on the boy's face only affirms that. the truth is you just don't want to have to deal with your mother pressuring you and sunghoon's advances.

"what's your name?" you asked the servant, changing the topic. "jake, ma'am." he responded swiftly. "you need not call me ma'am. y/n will do just fine." you shot jake a smile.

you're not sure why you enjoy this boy's presence so much. perhaps it's his puppy-like eyes or his soft voice. "well, y/n," jake prompted.

just hearing him say your name sent shivers down your spine. what has gotten into you? he's a stablehand. a servant.

"i suggest we go inside as it is exceedingly cold out. we wouldn't want you to develop an illness" he sympathized. he led you into the dimly lit stables, where you could get a better look at him.

he had thick pink lips and long black hair that nearly covered his eyes. his nose was long and tall and he had highly defined cheekbones coupled with a sharp jawline. he was dangerously handsome.

you caught yourself staring at him and got a bit embarrassed before you noticed that his eyes kept darting down at you and away, nervously. you looked down to see your corset was disheveled after your fall, revealing a bit of your cleavage.

screaming, you threw your purse at him while attempting to cover yourself. was this stableboy about to do to you whatever jay was doing with your sister?

he put his hands up above his head as if to surrender and apologized profusely. "i'm so, so sorry ma'am! I meant to mention it earlier but I was a bit apprehensive as I didn't want to offend you-"

you steadied yourself a bit seeing how anxious jake looked. attempting to console him, you held his shaking hands. poor thing probably thought you were going to get him whipped, or worse.

"it's fine. I'm just a bit on edge after... never mind that. could you please explain to me what I saw jay doing with my sister? it is still heavy on my mind." you hesitated.

jake began looking bashful again. "when two people are overcome by lust, they tend to... fornicate." he explained awkwardly. you gasped. you weren't familiar with what fornication actually looked like, but you knew it was a great shame.

"please, please don't tell anyone." you begged him, still gripping onto his hands. "of course, not, ma'am--y/n. it's not my business to tell." he assured.

smiling, you let go of his hands. the two of you stood in comfortable silence for a while, looking out the doors to the stable at the starry sky and beautiful garden underneath it.

jake broke the silence first, "i believe it's time for you to return to the ball. your family must be getting worried."

your mood immediately soured. you wanted nothing less than to return to the ball you were once so excited to attend, especially because it was now a matchmaking event for your parents.

"right." you straightened down your gown. "do you think you could... help me adjust my corset before I go?" you cautioned. the truth is you could've easily fixed it yourself, you just wanted another excuse to be close to jake again.

he shuffled behind you before fastening one of the buttons on your top that had come undone. his hands were shaky yet his grip was firm. your breath hitched as he gently moved your hair to the side.

the tension was palpable, and before you knew it, you had turned around and were face to face with jake. your noses were nearly touching and you felt an electric shock travel from your stomach to your head.

feeling lightheaded, you moved a bit closer. you could hear his breathing speed up.

the next thing you know your lips were touching his. you knew this wasn't right, that this was not only a shameful thing to do as an unmarried woman, but with a stablehand of all people?

but in that moment, you couldn't care less. you attempted to deepen the kiss awkwardly but it was apparent you had no idea what you were doing. he didn't seem to mind though, reciprocating your efforts.

you were interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching. panicking, you pulled away. you didn't miss how jake seemed to lean in again subconsciously, which almost prompted you to jump back into his arms.

but you were way too terrified of getting caught. without thinking, you ducked behind a bale of hay. holding back a laugh, jake turned to face the front of the stables where arabella and jay walked in. arabella was wearing trousers and a linen shirt that she must've had on under her gown.

"jake, ready two horses at once." jay ordered, sternly. "of course, master jay." jake obediently answered.

"are you sure about this, jay?" arabella whispered, tugging on the boy's sleeve. "we have no other choice, you know my parents won't approve of you." he insisted sympathetically, grasping onto her hands.

were they about to elope?

jake handed jay the reigns to two separate horses. jay simply smiled and thanked him before handing one of the horses over to arabella. "I wish I could've at least told my baby sister." she sighed.

rage built up inside of you. how could she keep this from you? she definitely doesn't have to tell you now because you're going to make it known that you're well aware.

you jumped up from behind the hay like a madwoman, your corset still slightly a mess with straw in your hair. "arabella! how could you?" you yelled accusingly.

yelping, your sister quickly covered her mouth. "y/n, what on earth are you doing in here?" she retorted, still slightly shocked. "never mind that. were you about to elope... with him?" you motioned over to jay.

"y/n, I'm not sure what you think of me at this moment but I assure you it was for the best-" he started. "I don't care. unhand my sister at once." you seethed. "y/n! do not speak to him that way!" arabella defended.

you were furious. arabella, your tomboy and supposed spinster of a sister was secretly fornicating with jay park and now she was planning on eloping with him.

jake looked awkwardly between you and your sister as jay held his head down. you and arabella on the other hand were having a heated stare-down.

"if you stay, i won't tell a soul about this. if you leave, I will tell the entire county and a search party will be sent for the two of you within an hour. it's your decision." you growled.

sighing, arabella shot jay a knowing look to which he nodded in agreement. "we will stay. but if you know what's best for you, you'll be quiet." she warned. you wanted to scoff at her threat, but you knew it would just fan the flames all over again.

jay suggested heading back to the ball as the three of you had been out long enough. after jake led you through the servant's staircase, the three of you joined the party once again, luckily right before it was about to end.

sunghoon caught your eye right as you were leaving, and of course, your mother happened to be right in front of you when he approached you. "y/n! i've been looking for you the whole night. I was hoping to get a second dance," he slurred, it was evident he had one too many glasses of port wine.

"perhaps next time, sunghoon." you grumbled. your mother sent him an apologetic look before waving goodbye.

fortunately, there were two carriages sent to retrieve you and your family after your mother complained that the one was too cramped. unfortunately, mother and catherine jumped into the first one, leaving you and arabella alone in the second.

you honestly couldn't bare looking at her, let alone speaking to her on the way home, so you opted for staring out at the countryside through the small window.

"why were you in the stables?" arabella began. you shot her an annoyed look. "i know you're upset with me, y/n, but you wouldn't understand what it's like to be in love with someone you can't be with. it's unbearable."

"no. maybe I don't. but I do know that it's wrong to leave behind your loved ones. besides, you and jay nearly had an arrangement! was there really a need to go and do all this? mother practically begged you to be with him-"

"and his parents couldn't stand me. they told him he could never marry such an uncouth woman." she sputtered, tears forming at her eyes.

your heart hurt for your sister, but you were still far too upset to embrace her. "the stablehand, jake." you blurted.

she looked up at you, confused. "i saw you and jay..." you explained, prompting arabella to look away once again in shame. "...and I ended up hitting my head on the stable doors somehow. jake came out to help me and we somehow ended up kissing." you admitted, slightly embarrassed.

arabella's mouth opened slightly, before it closed and formed a smile. "do you like him?" she chided like a small child.

that was one of the things you loved so much about your sister. she was never judgemental, always open to hearing whatever you had to say.

"I believe I do." you smiled sadly, "but it would never work. he's a servant for crying out loud."

"do you want to see him again?" she asked, unexpectedly. you nodded before seeing a mischievous glint in her eye. she smiled widely and made a proclamation, "how's this? I help you hide your meetings with jake and you help me with jay. it may not be a long term solution but it would help, wouldn't it?"

"what about mother's obsession with marrying me off?" you huffed. "she's not obsessed with just you marrying. besides, sunghoon alone is wealthy enough to fix our financial woes. let's set him up with catherine, convincing her to set her sights on him." she stated.

springing up from your seat, you held your sister while cheering, "genius! you're a genius!" causing her to laugh and cheer as well.

that night you couldn't sleep. your mind kept replaying the kiss between you and jake. you could still feel the ghost of his soft lips on yours. giggling to yourself, you realized you probably look like a madwoman. yet, you didn't really mind. all you cared about was seeing jake again.

the next morning you mentally prepared yourself as you made your way down to breakfast. all you have to do is fib a bit to your family, it can’t possibly be that hard.

making eye contact with arabella as you waltzed down the stairs, you held back a smile before greeting your parents.

“mother, you’ll be delighted to know that i believe i’ve found my match.” you announced, rather dramatically. your mother nearly dropped her spoon upon hearing the good news, and your father simply smiled and asked, “who is it, my dear?”

“jay park.” you grinned, watching as arabella shot you a mischievous wink from across the dining table. “i was thinking we could perhaps have a luncheon at the park residence today. sunghoon also made it very apparent to me that he has been showing an interest in one of my sisters,”

this caught the attention of catherine.

“which one of us?” catherine yelped. “clearly not arabella,” your younger brother snickered, earning a light smack to the back of the head from your sister.

“he… erm, didn’t say. which is why we must find out today at the luncheon!” you stammered. as unconvincing as you sounded, your parents and siblings seemed to fully believe you, which meant your plan was now in motion.

from that day on, you and arabella were able to make your way to the park’s estate nearly daily by lying.

part of you felt guilty, but that guilt was alleviated as soon as you felt jake’s warm embrace. the two of you would lay in the garden some days, and sneak around the manor on other days, using the servant passageways.

you would constantly cover up for arabella as she would for you. and to your surprise, you witnessed a romance slowly blooming between catherine and sunghoon.

“what are your plans for the future? would you like to start a family, settle down in the countryside? or would you like to move into the city, somewhere in london perhaps?” you asked jake. you were sitting in the shade of a large oak tree behind the park manor with his head in your lap as you ran your fingers aimlessly through his soft hair.

he laughed lightly, “i always assumed I’d be stuck here forever, picking up horse dung.”

you felt a pang of hurt in your chest, being reminded of the harsh reality of being a servant. “surely that can’t be. don’t you have a home? where is your family residing?” you asked.

“of course i have a home,” jake started as he slowly got up from your lap. you immediately felt the cool breeze hit your lap in the absence of his warmth. “it’s in the southern part of town, my parents and brother own a bakery near there, on 5th street.” he smiled to himself.

“why didn’t you work in the bakery?” you prodded. you felt a bit nosy, but you were genuinely curious. “we were hardly making anything, it seems like nobody has enough to even spend on bread anymore. I had to find a job elsewhere and this seemed to be the only option.”

you felt a sense of guilt wash over you. you were so used to your own servants hanging on your every whim yet you never wondered about their livelihood. with income running low, father cut their salaries which you’re sure was already low.

“enough of that.” jake coughed, visibly uncomfortable, “will you read to me?”

you smiled, grabbing the long-forgotten novel in the grass behind you.

everything was running smoothly until the parks decided to come over for tea one eventful afternoon. you happily greeted lord and lady park along with their two youngest sons as they sat down in the drawing room.

you were only excited to see jay so you could cryptically ask about any developments concerning jake. unfortunately, you wouldn’t have any time to as your parents did most of the talking.

“so, i hear that jay and y/n are getting on quite well,” lady park beamed. your mother nodded vigorously in approval while you and jay feigned bashfulness.

“i also heard good news about sunghoon and my dear catherine.” your father added, to which lord park raised his cup to.

it was a typical, and rather boring, conversation until sunghoon decided to pipe in, “i always presumed i would end up with y/n,” he said casually, chuckling to himself.

catherine suddenly looked to mother, shocked. “i thought you were interested in catherine, mr. park.” your mother quipped.

“oh, of course. but that is a much more recent development. i’ve been pandering after y/n since we were kids for christ sake.”

your mother glared at you, clearly upset with your lying but at least you could cover it up by claiming you were too occupied with jay to notice sunghoon’s advances.

coughing awkwardly, your father suddenly stood up, brushing himself off. “lady l/n and i have long thought about this decision, and wanted to ask you personally instead of relying on correspondence.” once he had everyone in the room’s attention, he continued,

“we believe y/n and jay should be wed by tomorrow.”

you froze. you watched as jay and sunghoon’s jaws dropped and the elder parks began to protest. tomorrow?

“as happy as we all are that our children are getting on, don’t you think tomorrow is making haste?” lady park commented, but your father insisted, “we don’t need to plan the grand ceremony just yet, but an intimate procession in which legal and religious matters are sorted would be nice to get out of the way, wouldn’t it?”

you knew exactly why your father was so desperate to get you married by tomorrow as it would be saturday, meaning you had only tomorrow to correct the family finances.

“with all due respect, i feel like this is a bit rushed. jay and i haven’t fully gotten to know each other yet. don’t you think sunghoon and catherine would make a better match?” you suggested, your voice shaky.

“nonsense. you’ve gone over to the park’s nearly every day this week, spending hours there each visit. surely you’ve gotten to know him enough.” your mother insisted.

“then it is set. the two are to be wed tomorrow, let us discuss the details!” lady park shared gleefully.

you couldn’t bare listening any longer. wordlessly, you stood up, heading to your room, passing by arabella who was eavesdropping by the steps.

“she must be nervous.” your father announced after your departure.

once you found your way to your bed you collapsed. what were you going to do? how were you going to tell jake? you felt hopeless.

you heard a knock on your door. then another one, this time more impatient. “come in.” you groaned, ready to unleash your wrath on whoever walked in.

“are you alright, miss l/n? i heard a large slam coming from this direction.” an elderly maid asked innocently.

seeing her familiar face calmed your nerves. she had been working around the house for as long as you can remember, but she looked much more tired now. you thought back to your conversation with jake and realized how little you seemed to notice her condition weaken over time.

christ, you didn’t even know her name.

“i’m fine,” you smiled. “um, could you please set up a carriage for me? if you’d like, i’d prefer it if you joined me.” you suggested.

she looked taken aback but quickly composed herself, “yes of course, miss l/n.”

it wasn’t long before the carriage was drawn and you and your maid stepped inside. “where to, miss l/n?” she asked, “the bakery on 5th street, i believe it is located south of here.”

“pardon me miss l/n, but isn’t fetching bread a servant’s job?” she hesitated. “please just call me y/n, and i plan on doing more than simply ‘fetching bread’” you responded reassuringly.

she nodded and the two of you set course for the bakery. along the way, you decided to learn more about the maid. you found out that her name is agatha, she was aged three and forty, had three kids of her own, and had been working for your family since you were born.

once you arrived, you and agatha stepped into the nearly empty building. the only person you saw was a young man behind the counter who you assumed was jake’s brother.

“good afternoon, ma’am. how can i be of assistance?” the boy greeted, dusting off his flour-covered hands on the counter.

“i’d like to purchase ten loaves of bread.” you beamed. agatha glanced over at you, confused. “that would be ten shillings, ma’am” he smiled. he looked strikingly similar to jake when he did so.

“who on earth could be buying that much bread-” you heard a familiar voice emerge from behind the counter. you were surprised to see jake wearing much more casual clothing than you’re used to seeing him in, holding a loaf of steaming bread.

he stopped upon seeing you, quickly pulling himself together. “my apologies… ma’am.” he nearly whispered before disappearing back into the kitchen. for the rest of the time he popped in and out the two of you did your best to ignore one another.

after nearly half an hour of waiting, your order was finished. as you loaded the loaves into the carriage with the help of jake and his brother, you felt the sudden urge to tell jake about your impending marriage.

unfortunately, you couldn’t find a way to without raising the suspicions of either agatha or his brother, so you thanked the both of them and went on your way. hopefully it would all be sorted out and he’d never have to know.

once alone with agatha, you handed the loaves to her. “please distribute these among the servant’s families, and keep one for your own. I’d like to make a quick stop before i return.” you shared. “of course, where to?” she asked.

“your home.” you answered casually. “miss l/n-”

“y/n.” you corrected. “y/n, is something the matter? i apologize if i’m speaking too freely but you have been behaving a bit oddly today.” agatha nervously shared.

“yes actually, there is a cause for great concern. i am to be wed tomorrow to a man i have no affection for meanwhile i am hopelessly in love with a stableboy.” you stated carelessly.

you yourself are unsure of why you decided to confide in agatha but you felt like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders once you did.

“I’m sorry to hear that. i hope for the best for you always, you know you’ve always been my favorite of your siblings.” she half-joked, lightening the mood.

you couldn’t help but laugh, and before you knew it, the two of you were joking with each other like old friends.

once you arrived at agatha’s house you handed her two shillings. “this is double your salary for the day. take off early, i insist. neither mother or father will hear a word of this, i swear.” you said, clasping her hand in your own.

her expression turned to one of immense gratitude and she rushed to hug you. before you could react, she pulled away, apologizing repeatedly.

you simply pulled her back in, embracing her even tighter. she bid you farewell as she stepped out of the carriage and you began to make your way back as the sun set.

arriving home, you were greeted with the sight of your parents standing behind the front gates, visibly furious.

“where were you all this time? it is nearly dark and you did not notify anyone of your departure. my goodness, and you set off alone!” your mother gasped.

“is this how a lady is to act before she is about to be married? you better correct yourself before jay catches onto this scandalous behavior.” father boomed.

you grumbled a “yes, father” before hurrying inside, back to your chambers. you were surprised to see arabella waiting anxiously on your bed.

“where were you?” she jumped up. “nowhere important.” you shrugged. “christ, i thought you had eloped!” your sister exclaimed. to be frank, you were beginning to consider it as an option.

“nonsense. i won’t be eloping just like i won’t be marrying jay.”

you saw her face drop at the mention of her lover. “sister,” you sat beside her, “i promise you we will fix this mess together.”

“but how?” arabella sighed. “i say we convince sunghoon and catherine to marry instead of jay and i.” you shared.

your sister raised an eyebrow at your proposal, “how on earth will we do that?”

“we have to tell them the truth about you and jay.” you declared. you could see a glimpse of fear in arabella’s eyes, and you would be lying if you said you weren’t a bit afraid yourself. “fine.” she agreed. you held her hand tightly as she confided in you the rest of the night.

the following morning, the park’s estate was bustling, the servants all gossiping about jay’s new match. jake was never one to listen to rumors going around but he was particularly interested in this one, wondering if arabella had finally gotten through to lord and lady park.

“i hear the bride is the youngest daughter, y/n.” one of the cooks shared excitedly. jake froze. “where did you hear that?” he suddenly asked. “from the tailor that was fitting her dress. apparently they’re going to have a small, intimate ceremony at the church today-”

before she could finish her sentence, jake sprinted to the stables and began saddling the nearest horse.

he didn’t know what he was going to do once he arrived at the church, or even what would happen to him afterwards, but he didn’t care. he refused to stand by as you married someone else.

while at the church, you fiddled with your veil anxiously. arabella assured you that she would speak with sunghoon and catherine without mentioning anything about jake.

it was nearly time for the ceremony to begin and you were starting to worry that something had gone wrong.

suddenly, the door to the room you were in burst open, revealing catherine and arabella. “quick! give me your veil and remove your dress!” catherine ordered.

while rapidly exchanging clothes with your sister, arabella filled you in, “the couple agreed to our plan upon hearing about mine and jay’s story. sunghoon made a rather dramatic declaration of love to catherine before jay could even stand at the alter and luckily, our parents decided that these two were more deserving to be wed.”

you let out a huge sigh of relief. you were able to evade marriage with jay, but how much longer could you keep this lie up?

arabella led you down to the area where the ceremony would be held and within a few minutes, catherine made her way to the alter.

the two shared last-minute vows and right as the officiant asked if there were any objections the door to the church flew open.

“stop! stop the ceremony!” a disheveled jake panted. everyone in the room’s jaws flew open except your own. you didn’t know whether to be flattered or embarrassed at his commitment to you in this very moment.

“what is the meaning of this, boy?” lord park boomed. “i’m in love with her, sir.” jake confessed, pointing at your veiled sister. you wanted to dig a hole in the ground and lay there.

jay coughed, nodding his head in your direction, prompting jake to make eye contact with you. as soon as he saw you, his mouth made an o-shape.

you couldn’t take it anymore, standing up dramatically and declaring “he meant me. he’s in love with me and I’m in love with him.”

just when you thought the situation couldn’t possibly worsen, your mother fainted.

at this point the church was a noisy, swarming mess. lady park and arabella attempted to calm your mother after she regained consciousness and became hysterical while your father had to be held back by his sons and lord park from attacking jake. catherine was sobbing in the corner and the officiant simply stared awestryck at the scene unfolding in front of him.

while everyone was distracted, you grabbed jake’s hand and ran out the church doors. the two of you mounted the horse he rode over and ran off in a random direction.

you looked back once to see everyone emerging from the church, frantically looking for you and jake.

“where are we going?” jake asked, clearly on edge. “keep going until we’re too far for them to catch us.” you ordered.

you ended up stopping nearby a small field. dismounting the horse, you noticed a large tear in his shirt. “how did that happen?” you asked, worried.

“your father ripped it open at the church.”

for some indescribable reason, that sentence alone made you both burst into laughter. perhaps it was the ridiculousness of the whole situation.

as jake laughed, you noticed how his nose slightly crinkled, how all his teeth showed, how his eyes closed and his head was thrown back childishly.

you realized just how much you had fallen for him, and how little you could care about your family’s blessings.

“i love you.” you blurted. you quickly placed your hands over your lips as if it would take back what you said. sure it had been implied before, but you had never said those three words to his face. to anyone’s face, really.

“i love you, too.” he whispered, now moving closer to you. the two of you shared a short kiss, breaking apart before leaning back in again.

this time the kiss was deeper, more passionate. his hands travelled to your lower back as yours cupped his jaw.

you felt yourself desperately moving more and more forward, still not feeling close enough to him. he pulled away first, leaving you gasping for air.

“what are we going to do?” he asked, out of breath. “we’re going to get married.” you responded firmly.

grabbing his hand, you hoisted yourself up on the horse once again, patting the seat behind you. “are you sure about this?” he asked, hesitant.

you nodded wordlessly as he seated himself beside you. you charged back in the direction you had just come from.

you, the girl who never cared for marriage, were now determined to fight for your right to marry the man of your dreams.

you made it back to the church within minutes, spotting your both enraged and confused family standing outside.

arabella saw you first, rushing over. “you should have left, y/n. father is going to murder the both of you.” she warned.

you ignored her, walking up to lord and lady park. before you could open your mouth, you felt a harsh grip on your arm, yanking you back, “not only have you sent your mother into a frenzy, you have bought immense shame upon our family with this illicit affair. i am disgusted to call you my daughter.” your father spat.

“don’t speak to her like that.” jake threatened, moving closer to your father.

“enough of this, lord l/n. i have an enormous headache from today. it is safe to say no arrangements will be made between our children. boys, let us leave at once.” lord park commanded.

neither jay nor sunghoon moved, prompting lord park to repeat himself. again, no reaction.

“oh for christ’s sake. i understand sunghoon being a bit hesitant but this girl is clearly not right for you jay-”

“i wish to marry arabella.” jay announced, “and i don’t care if she doesn’t meet your standards. i refuse to leave the church grounds until she is made my wife.”

“neither shall i until catherine and i are wed.” sunghoon chimed in.

“and neither will i until you give my hand to jake and only jake.” you challenged, looking your father in the eye.

“this is nonsense. what has gotten into you kids?” lady park objected. your mother fainted once again, but this time nobody seemed to pay her any mind.

the officiant peeked his head out from the door, “if you’d like, i can officiate the three weddings for the price of just two.”

you saw your father become visibly more upset at the mention of pricing and were reminded of the reason your parents were so adamant on getting you married in the first place.

“father, if arabella marries jay and catherine marries sunghoon, our income nearly doubles. we won’t have to worry about our finances any longer. what is stopping you then from allowing me to marry jake?” you plead, desperate.

“he is a servant. a stablehand, y/n. below a commoner. it was a grave error on your end to even look his way.” he scoffed.

“he’s no longer a servant of mine,” lord park added, rubbing his temples, “not after this mess.”

“then he is now a baker.” you quipped. “pardon me?” your father asked, irritated. “his family owns a bakery so therefore he is a baker. not a servant. i don’t see any reason as to why i cannot marry him now?”

“just let them bloody marry.” lady park cursed just as your mother came back to her senses, causing her to fall unconscious yet again.

“fine.” your father sighed, “but you will not be living on any of my estates.”

“i will give them one of mine.” jay interjected, patting jake on the shoulder.

after that, the ceremony continued. this time with three brides, two disgruntled father-in-laws, and a single annoyed lady (as the other is still passed out).

fast forward to a few months later, you and your parents have reconciled although your father is still weary of jake.

the two of you have settled into your new estate, courtesy of jay. jake is back to working at his family bakery, which has seen a large increase in profit. you also decided to appoint agatha as the head housekeeper in your new home.

jay and arabella are happily married, as are catherine and sunghoon. your family’s finances have improved greatly and you couldn’t be happier for your parents.

you reflected on how drastically your life has changed within the span of a year as you readied yourself for morning tea at arabella’s house.

you put on a simple purple dress and in the corner of your eye, saw the pearl set you wore the night you met jake. grabbing the earrings, you placed them carefully in your ears, reminiscing to yourself in the mirror.

suddenly your husband made his way into the bedroom, placing a firm kiss on your cheek before announcing his departure for work, a tradition the two of you now have.

wishing him luck, you shared one last embrace before you sent him off.

[jtl07]

happy to hear you’re doing better jt! hope you have a wonderful and restful holiday season

my prompt for shenanigans is mistletoe

hey ant! i hope your holiday season is full of wonder and warmth and rest <3 super grateful for your encouragement and support, hope these work!

[one]

"Ava, don't you think this is a bit much?"

The ladder wobbles dangerously as Ava continues to affix the mistletoe to the light fixture. "Personally, I think it's not enough," she answers, tilting her head to assess her work.

She hears a scoff from below. "Two dozen bunches isn't enough for you?"

Ava shoots a glare down the ladder. "It's tradition, Beatrice."

"It's completely outdated -"

"Says the person who reads Latin for fun."

"Latin is immensely useful -"

Ava shakes her head fondly as Beatrice starts down a well-worn argument, rocks up onto her toes to straighten the decorations. She feels the ladder tilt with the movement and instinctively, she shifts her weight to compensate - but it's too much too fast and she feels weightless for one heartstopping moment. Thinks: I should have listened to Bea and used the new ladder.

The ground is both softer and sharper than she expects, and she opens her eyes to find herself in a tangled heap with Beatrice. "Oh shit, are you okay, Bea?"

Beatrice groans, wincing a bit as she sits up. "Just fine. You?"

Ava nods, her hands ghosting over Beatrice's body in concern. "I'm sorry, Bea, you're always saving me."

"Well, I suppose you could say that's our tradition," Beatrice says wryly.

"How about we combine?" Ava says, glancing pointedly at the mistletoe hanging above them. Beatrice rolls her eyes, even as she presses a kiss into Ava's grin.

**

[two]

To be honest, Beatrice had expected Ava to be wearing something more, well, revealing when she'd agreed to come by the bar and let Ava 'rock her world' with 'a special drink' or two. Every time she'd seen the girl - at the bookstore Beatrice owns, at the outdoor market, at the theatre, at the pool - she's always seen quite a bit of her as well (not that she's judging the crop tops and cut off shorts; 'I'm simply learning to appreciate fashion,' is what Beatrice tells herself).

But the sweater Ava wears now is almost something Beatrice would find in her own closet: a single, solid color with no design in sight - at least from her side of the bar. It looks soft and comfortable and she tells Ava this after her second drink - assures her that yes, her world has been rocked; no, she wouldn't mind the next one being stirred - and receives a sly grin in return.

"You haven't even seen the best part," Ava says, equal parts mischievous and sultry. But before Beatrice can ask her to elaborate, she's pulled away to serve a crowd of customers at the other end of the bar.

It isn't until Ava clocks out and steps out from behind the bar that Beatrice sees the bottom half of the sweater. She coughs, chokes on nothing, turns her gaze up to the relative safety of Ava's face.

Relative because Ava's lips curl into a coy smirk, knowing as she watches Beatrice's eyes follow her fingers helplessly. "Think anyone will give me a kiss?" Ava asks, her fingers trailing slowly and deliberately across the words knitted at the bottom of the sweater above an arrow pointing down: 'My mistletoe is down here.'

prompts for shenanigans is still open! might take a day or two to fill but really enjoying these :)

[sweetreveriee]

Grayson Hawthorne headcanons before I go to bed!!

• Grayson uses a bathrobe instead of a normal towel because it shows off his slutty waist

• Penwhore.

• He created his own cologne

• Grayson absolutely LOVES fashion. Like when the whole gang goes to the mall he's the one going around with boba and a dozen bags on his arms.

• Speaking of boba, Grayson actually really likes it, but only from one specific place and he orders the same thing everytime (idk what he would get, pls suggest in comments)

• Has a watch collection

• Is offended when people take pictures using phone cameras

• Has been on the cover of several swim magazines (just magazines in general)

• Was the first brother to win Sexiest Man Alive (a few months before Avery came into the picture, Nash has never won it)

• Grayson makes the best fettucine alfredo

• and he's just a good cook in general

• He taught Xander how to bake scones

• Wakes up at 4:00 am

• He goes to the gym and is like the first one there, and then comes back home and swims until everyone else gets up

• Doesn't drink water, he survives off coffee and boba

• Doesn't like tea, he thinks its for people too weak for coffee

• Sometimes he'll go to a random elementary school and gives things to the kids (money, toys, etc)

• Kids absolutely love him

• When he was like 14 and Em*ly was with her parents he had a short lived phase where he dated like twenty different girls (he broke up with them after a week)

• His emo phase started when he was 12 because Tobias wouldn't build him a new pool. It lasted for a month before he became so disgusted with his fashion choices he had to stop.

• Gray knows seven languages (English, Spanish, Mandarin, Arabic, Latin, Russian, and Greek)

• Hated Hamilton because it was too historically inaccurate ("They never had cabinet rap battles!")

• Skye and Tobias thought he had a speech impediment because it wasn't until six years old that he started talking. He always knew how, but never wanted to talk to anyone

thats all i could think of for now! feel free to add ur own <3

[tobbesdiscordkitten]

I have a theory about the baby names Axl said he picked "with Erin"

Shiloh Blue and Willow Amelia are the names that Axl and Erin chose for their future child, but my theory is that these names were chosen only by Axl, not by Erin.

Firstly, the name Willow Amelia Rose has the same initials as Axl's full name (W.A.R)

Secondly, it is completely known that their relationship was toxic, and Erin was so submissive to him that if he commanded her, she would do it.

It wouldn't be surprising if it was like this even with baby names.

In the reality Erin likes names that start with the letter E so much that her children with her ex-husband all start with the letter E.

Fun Fact: And there is also a tradition in her family of giving the middle name Invicta for women (Invicta means Invincible in Latin)

Another Fun Fact: Erin's mother was a Hollywood model, her full name was Joanna Venetia Invicta Stevenson a.k.a Venetia Stevenson, her aunt was Caroline Invicta, her cousin is Sarah Invicta, Erin's two daughters are Eres-Ever Invicta and Esper Invicta

I love your theory, anon! I didn't even notice Willow Amelia had the same initials as Axl's.

While this could've been possible, I like to think they talked about the baby names beforehand, and agreed upon each name. Maybe Erin was able to brainstorm boy names and Axl brainstormed girl names. Shiloh Blue does sound like something Erin would pick, too. I know you've mentioned Erin's kids have E's in the first letter of their names, but maybe her ex-husband wanted their children to carry after their mother and bear names that start with E.

My older sister was in a toxic relationship with her husband, but after giving birth, her relationship is much better now. The baby brought them closer together. My sister and her husband came to a mutual agreement that, if the baby was a girl she'd pick out a name, and if it's a boy her husband would pick a name. I can see this being a similar situation between Axl and Erin, only vice-versa, since Willow Amelia has the W.A.R initials.

We all know Erin's relationship with Axl recovered after she became pregnant. So, perhaps Axl treated her better and gave her full reign on picking out a baby name. I don't wanna say, "Yeah, Axl was controlling of the baby names," because: a) we weren't there to witness it and b) we shouldn't assume something to make his reputation seem more tainted than it already is. But I appreciate the theory, nonetheless!

I'd have to disagree on the submissive part. It's true Erin appeared to be "clingy" and “needy" around Axl, and a "flirt" around others, but I wouldn't say she submitted to him all the time. Except in the bedroom lol. Submission is about being willing to do something for another person because they want to. With Erin, however, it seems she was "threatened" to do certain things for Axl, and if she didn't do them, there'd be "consequences" - just based on what I researched about their relationship.

Erin did push Axl's buttons. I'm under the impression she liked to push his buttons, not because she liked to get beat afterwards, but because she was stubborn and liked to get her way. If she didn't enjoy it then she would've learned not to say, or do, certain things around Axl to trigger, or provoke, his outbursts. But she didn't. Erin liked to get a reaction out of him. And it ended with their relationship falling apart.

Thank you for sharing the fun facts! 🙏🏻 I had no idea.

[phyrestartr]

Simple Things [3] - Miguel O'hara x Male!Reader

# Mild NSFW, fluff, comfort, flirting, light angst, male!reader, dad!reader, spider!reader, implied depression, mentions of trauma, mentions of past relationships, mentions of manipulation, old men just doing their best, miguel is a sweetheart and a nerd, multi-part drabble collection

[ 1 ] Smoke Break | [ 2 ] We Change Like the Seasons | [ 3 ] Meet the Kids

Notes: Covid is still kicking my ass but I wanted to finish this part off so I can make the reader and Miguel fuck in the next part wahoo \o/

-- Meet The Kids --

A girl walked into the lab. Miguel thought maybe Gwen or another spider had come to ask something of him or to steal one of the cookies from his desk console (wouldn't be the first time), but the lazy scuff of shoes on polished floors sounded too clumsy to be one of his agents. She wasn't wearing a suit either, Miguel realized after sparing a glance over his shoulder; she did, however, sport a day pass on a small wrist. 

"And you are?" Miguel asked before turning back to his screens. He wasn't really in the mood for conversation while he tracked the next anomaly, but he couldn't say he wanted some random kid to be touching his stuff in his lab. 

"I dunno. Who're you?" Ugh. 

The clattering of something hitting the floor made Miguel's eye twitch. He took a breath. "I'm the guy running the show here." He closed screens with gruesome scenes of destruction, hiding them from the prying eyes of the innocent in the room with him. "And I'm the one who's about to call your guardian." 

She scoffed. "My guardian?" 

"Whichever spider dragged you into HQ and let you off your leash with a day pass." Miguel spied her out of the corner of his eye, but didn't have the decency to face her. "Lyla. Scan her." 

"You got it, buddy." 

"Woah, wait–!" The girl gasped as a warm orange light washed over her, flickering across her entirety before vanishing. "Dude." Despite the attitude, her voice trembled faintly. Miguel almost felt bad. But she touched his stuff. Not his fault. 

Lyla whistled and adjusted her sunnies as she leaned into a tiny screen of her own. "Oooh, you're gonna love this, Miguel–" 

"Miguel?" The girl repeated. "Like…the guy Dad talks about?" 

A clairvoyant feeling overwhelmed the spider, probably the same way spidey senses hit the normal spider-people around him. Somehow, he knew who she was, who her dad was before Lyla even said it. 

"Yep, that's (Name)'s kiddo," Lyla chirped. 

Miguel looked at the girl. He really looked at her this time, feeling some sort of stupid with how much she looked like you; her hair was fluffy and unkempt in the same shade yours was, the shape of her nose was like a smaller, cuter version of yours, too. Then there were her eyes. That same hazy hue of uncut gems, a colour of protective dullness that hid something brilliant and effervescent from the outside world. 

"(Name)'s kid," Miguel repeated. Your name felt comfortable on his tongue these days. "Kid, I–what're you doing here? Where's your dad, huh?" 

The girl, very clearly looking around the room to try and spot the elusive Lyla, shrugged. "I 'unno." 

Colour Miguel unimpressed. "Oh, you don't know. Good. Great." He tutted before running a hand through his hair. "Lyla, call the kid's dad–" 

"He's sleeping!" She blurted. "You can't just, like, wake him up; Dad never gets to sleep." Her arms crossed tightly over her chest as her cheeks puffed. "And my name's Isabella, y'know." 

Miguel's dark brow raised in question. "Isabella." Said with a Latin accent. Interesting. Miguel's chest felt tighter. "If your dad's asleep then he probably left you with someone." He looked at her expectantly. 

Isa shrugged again and scuffed her worn soles against the floor. "Mr.Parker didn't notice. He's watching Natalie and Nico and May 'n whatever. So. Yeah." 

Mr.Parker? Oh. "Hm. He babysit you a lot?" God, Miguel should stop asking questions, but curiosity and that damn attention deficit had him by the throat. He turned around and folded his arms over one another, too, before leaning back against the stage console to speak with Isabella properly. 

"Ugh, why are old people so–so freaking annoying? I'm not a baby, I don't need anyone to watch me." Ah. Of course. 

"Oh, wow, ah-huh, yeah. Sure. I'm sure your dad agrees." Her amateur glare wrought a smirk out of him. Would he have argued with Gabi like this? 

Miguel cleared his throat and turned back to the console, reaching for another cookie absent-mindedly. "Look, you can stay here until your father comes to get you, but you have to stop touching things. Got it?" But Isa only grumbled and scuffed her feet again. "Isabella." 

"Uuugh. Fiiine." The girl plopped down into an old rolling chair. Miguel tried not to twitch. He would not snap at a child for breaking his chair, he would not do that. Absolutely not. 

Not even one minute of silence passed before the kid rolled closer to the centre stage Miguel stood at. "Sooo you're, like, my dad's boss or something?" 

"Guess that's the easiest way to put it." Miguel peered at the girl from the corner of his eye. 

"Okay, but what's the hardest way to put it?" Isabella wiggled and sat backwards on the chair, hugging the backrest as she scooted around the lab. "Are yooou…friends?"

Miguel shrugged. "I'd say so." 

"Hmmmm. Are you more than friends?" 

His eye twitched again. "Do you interrogate every adult like this?" 

Isabella huffed. "Uh, he made you cookies. It's sooo not weird to ask if you're, like, a thing." 

"A thing." 

"Like boyfriends–" 

"Santa Muerte, I know what you mean, kid." 

"Okay." Silence fell for all of ten seconds. "I'm just saying–" 

Miguel groaned. "Can you stop talking for five minutes–" 

"--you'd be waaay cooler to have for a step dad than all the people Dad's been dating." 

"Yeah, well, I'm hard to beat." Oh, wow, did he just say that about himself? Christ. Miguel took a deep breath and tried to relax his shoulders with all his might. "That came out wrong. I–look, you need to just–he's dating?" Miguel cringed. It's not that he was interested in you like that, just…he was nosy, that's all. But he was incredibly aware of how that must have sounded to an equally nosy tween. 

Isabella perked up. "Uh, yeah. But everyone he dates ends up being suuuper crazy and weird. Like, it's reaaally bad." 

He shouldn't pry. He really shouldn't. "...Bad how?" Ay, Miguel. 

"Like, they're always super clingy or don't like kids or something. And, like, Nico and Nat had moms who had dads who super hated dad, so they gave him money to make him go away." Isabella nodded matter of factly. "That's what Dad said. He's super sure he's cursed or something. Granny was a bruja y'know." 

Miguel shouldn't be listening to this. He shouldn't be prying into your life through the conduit of a chatty kid. Asking you would be the better option, but this way was so much easier. It felt like he could finally get a grasp of what you'd been through, and maybe catch a glimpse of who you were behind the scenes. 

"Then what about your mom?" Miguel asked, crossing his arms and flicking his gaze back to the monitors. "That didn't happen with her?" 

An offended gasp burst from the young lady. "No! My mom was so not like that. She was Dad's girl!" 

"No kidding." Miguel hummed. He wasn't about to ask what happened to her. Spiderman never had an easy romance, never had an easy life. 

"Yeah! They fought in the war together, and her name's–" 

"Isabella." Your voice cut through the air like winter rain. Miguel almost got chills, and Isa squeaked before hopping off her chair and scrambling on the stage to hide behind Miguel. 

"Oh, look at that. Someone's in trouble," Miguel mumbled, mean smirk quirking the corner of his mouth. 

Isa glared up at Miguel. "Jerk."

"Isabella, quit bothering the boss," You groaned tiredly. Miguel's ears perked as the coo of a little one fluttered through the air. He turned and found you holding the littlest baby in one arm, and a toddler in the other, both incredibly K.Oed.

"M'not bothering him!" She protested. "I'm just hanging out!" 

"Cut the crap, you're probably complaining about school or about my love life or how I wouldn't get you a new phone or some shit." Miguel had to fight back a laugh. He'd never heard you so exasperated nor animated before. "And why the hell did you run off, huh? You had Pete freaking the fuck out." 

"I got bored! I just wanted to go look around!" Isabella pleaded with a puppy-level whine.

"Isa, this place, it's–it's not meant for people without powers. You could get hurt, alright?" You adjusted your grip on the two little ones in your arms. "And the lab is a whole 'nother story, Christ–" 

"It's fine, (Name)," Miguel cut in, turning to you. "She was fine." 

But the worry lines creasing your forehead didn't smooth quite as much as he wanted. "'Ppreciate it, Boss. But, I…" you trailed off, sighing softly. "Yeah. Just. Thanks. I'll, ah, get her out of your hair. Bet you've got work to do." 

Mija, let's go is what Miguel swore he heard come out of your mouth before Isa pouted and ran after you.

Mija. That word brought a world of hurt and comfort to his chest–the coincidence of Spanish on your tongue felt too…perfect, like you'd learned it just to shove it in his face. But Miguel knew better. 

Isabella. 

Mija. 

Your girl, Isa's mother, must have taught you. He liked that, for some reason. The idea of learning something new for a partner. What would you teach him if you were– 

Woah, woah, stop, Miguel. Stop. His ears turned hot. He worried at his bottom lip with fidgety hands before shaking his head free from such dangerous thoughts. 

Focus, he chanted to himself, you've got work to do. 

--

You decided you were sick that day. No, you weren’t really, but the headache chipping away at your skull suggested that, hey, maybe staying home for a day wouldn’t be a bad thing. You could use a break from dragging yourself around New York, searching for the next big scoop, the next tragedy to document and earn a living off of, too. 

So, there you were, in bed, with the tv in the front room playing some sort of movie that you’d heard a thousand times but never learned the name of, while your littlest, newest addition to the family starfished in a laze, his tiny tummy pressed to your broad chest. Your fingers lazily rubbed circles against his little back as he snoozed and drooled on your shirt. Somehow, the giggling and chattering of his sisters didn’t wake him up. Maybe the drumming of your heart, or the safety of a warmth he hadn’t known until now, drowned all of it out. 

He didn’t even stir when his sisters screeched.

You closed your eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. God, please just let it be a spider, please just let it be a spider. You sat up, holding your baby to your chest as you plucked a gun from the side table. You carefully set Nico down into the warmth of where you were laying before stalking to the door and whipping it open, gun poised and ready for–oh. A big spider.

“What the fuck, Miguel,” you hissed, beyond exasperated as you lowered the gun. “Why the–what–I could’ve shot you.” 

Miguel looked beyond bewildered, though some would say entirely bamboozled. He had his hands up like the police had them in his sights, his face was a combination of embarrassed, shocked and annoyed, and his claws had popped out in his flustered panic. His spiderman suit was still on, but he had that white hoodie thrown on top like it’d hide the fact he was spiderman. Hopefully it did. 

“I–” Miguel started.

“Ah-ah.” You cut him off like a dog misbehaving. “Girls?” Their heads popped up from behind the couch and you sighed in relief. “It’s alright, he’s a friend. From work.”

One of your daughters gasped. “It’s the weirdo that’s suuuper into dad!” Isabella cried, jumping out from behind the couch and pointing an accusatory finger at a very unamused-looking Miguel. 

“For the last time, I’m not–”

“You so are!”

“No, I’m not.”

“You are!”

“Yeah!” Natalie joined in, hopping up and down by her sister excitedly and pointing at the man they deemed guilty. “You are, you are!”

Miguel, probably halfway to an early grave, looked to you for help. But you flashed him a tight-lipped smile that said more than words could offer: perish. 

You let the girls hound him while you turned on your heel, heading back into the bedroom to sooth your stirring little boy. The gun found itself back in the drawer, safety on, magazine removed, before you scooped the tiny being into your arms and smooshed up against your chest. Your son quieted and clung to you. You left a kiss on the top of his head to welcome him.

"So," you started as you came back to the scene of the crime, "the hell're you here for, Boss?" You asked, completely unfazed by how the girls had corralled him onto the couch and had his hands in their own, their curious fingers pushing on his tendons and making his claws pop in and out. Honestly, you were pretty tempted to do the same. 

Miguel pursed his lips and ignored the gremlins on him as he looked at you again, something distant softening his features. 

"I, uh. I heard you were sick," he confessed with a small shrug. "Just thought…y’know." 

You hummed as you rubbed your son's back. "Huh. How'd you find that out?" 

"Peter mentioned it." 

"Pete doesn't know I'm sick." 

"Must've been Jess, then." 

"Jessie doesn't know either." 

Miguel was caught. His ears grew red before his cheeks did, and you smirked. Cute. Way too cute. 

"Lyla told me," Miguel grumbled, finally. 

"Ah. There it is. Not so hard to tell the truth now is it, Miggs?" You said with a Cheshire smile and a wink. "Good to know you've got your confidant spying on me." 

Miguel freed himself from the children and stood up quickly. "It's not--I'm not spying on you, I–you–" Miguel pursed his lips. "I don't need to explain myself." 

That made you laugh. "Relax, tough guy. I don't mind ya swinging by. Or, hm, guess I don't mind ya portal-ing in." Miguel didn't seem to think you were that funny, but thankfully Nico, in his haze of dreams, giggled at the right moment. "Nicky thinks I'm funny. You should take notes."

It didn't take much convincing to get Miguel to stay for dinner. You made him take a shower, though, and leant him some clothes to lounge in while you cooked everything from scratch. From scratch. Miguel couldn't remember the last time he had a home cooked meal. 

"Yeah? That's sad as shit," you remarked nonchalantly as you diced vegetables. "Tell ya what, you make it a habit of coming around, and I'll make sure I make extra for you, yeah? It's important to have that home cooked goodness for your soul 'n what not." 

Miguel felt his chest fill with something fluffy and warm. "Good point." But it wasn't, really. "Guess I'll have to make it a habit." He leaned back against the counter as he watched you prep everything. "Wouldn't want you putting in all that extra effort for nothing."

You twitched a bit of a smile and nodded. "My thoughts exactly." 

You spared a glance at Miguel. He looked calm, at ease, like the threat of the dimensions collapsing wasn't at the forefront of his mind for once. You thought, maybe, this might be the first time in a long time that he had his mind off work. Maybe he was doing that whole human thing and enjoying the present for a change. Jumping to conclusions wasn't really your style, though. 

Crimson eyes flickered, then, gazing towards the crib settled in your bedroom. He must've heard your little man stir. He must've wanted to do something about it, if his sudden shiftiness told you anything. 

"You mind checking on him?" You asked softly, knowing that, maybe, this was a big ask for a man who only had a phantom to tuck in at night. "He's fussy. Likes to be held." 

"You're sure?" The other man asked, brows furrowed in concern. 

"You kidding? If there's any guy I'd trust with my kid, it's you." You fiddled with the wrapper of the packaged chicken meat before ultimately stabbing it with a knife. "Go on. Before he starts crying." 

And Miguel wandered off to the little one. His voice had that sound to it when he spotted him, that kind of gentleness a man unlocked when he felt what it meant to be a father, a protector of a smaller soul. You listened hard for Miguel's smile, and felt your heart throb when you heard, "Hey, mijo. ¿Estas bien?" leave his lips. Your little boy cooed, and Miguel made a noise that sounded so frightfully domestic and dad-like, you thought you might perish on the spot, or fall in love in a second. 

Get it together, get it together. A deep breath steadied your blitzing nerves when Miguel came back to the kitchen, Nico in his arms, smooshed up against his chest. You stole a glance, smiling to yourself when you caught Miguel mooning over the lazy bundle of joy. 

You worked fast, feeling a weird, undeniable desire to talk after you had your army of children fed and sent to bed. Miguel didn’t leave your side, nor did he deign to put Nico down, not through soup and sandwiches, not through 20 questions hosted by Isabella and Natalie, and not through the moments alone where you herded the young ladies off to wash up before getting them to bed for the night. 

“Y’know, you’re gonna spoil that kid,” you said with a smile when you came back to find Miguel on the couch with your son. You sat down by him with a dad-like sigh and peered at the little one snoozing away. “He’s gonna demand you hold him every time you come around.”

Miguel huffed a laugh. “You make it sound like it’s a bad thing.”

“Hey, with arms ‘n pecs like that?” You pat one of Miguel’s impressive biceps to prove a point. “I get where he’s coming from. Lots of free real estate with good foundations.”

“Oh? You want me to hold you too?” Miguel offered, some sort of impish lilt lifting his voice as he looked over at you.

You fought back the urge to swallow. “Sure. If you’re offering.” But Miguel looked a little caught again, a little unsure of how much to tease and how hard to press, so you let him off the hook with a laugh. 

“Man, you really remind me of her.” You rested your head against the couch, maybe a little bit on Miguel’s shoulder, as you watched your boy sleep. “Liliana,” you amended, “Isabella’s mom.” 

Scarlet eyes flickered to you. Seems you caught his attention. “Liliana,” Miguel tested the name on his tongue slowly, thoughtfully. “Isabella’s mom.” And after another pause, he asked, “I guess she’s gone?”

“Gone. Yeah.” You blinked slowly, and let the words rotting in your lungs breach the surface: “I killed her.” Ah, maybe you said that with too much nonchalance, you worried, but Miguel’s low hum seemed to suggest otherwise. 

It felt good. You couldn't stop yourself from talking. “It was an accident, I guess. She was a scientist. Geneticist, I think. Made me into, well, whatever I am now.” You flexed your hand and looked it over, like the blueprints of your design were still hidden under tired skin. “‘Cause, y’know, I was a soldier, she said I was gonna be the next Captain America, but… that doesn’t matter. Anyway, side effects were bad, really bad. I freaked out, then--then, y'know.” You took a breath. “Killed my little girl’s mom.”

You chewed the inside of your cheek as you stared at nothing, sucked back into a daze and a trance you’d long forgotten about. But you remembered the blood, the screaming, the way you and those webs ignited and how the white lab coats all howled and screamed and popped. The scent of roasted flesh should have disgusted you, it should have knocked some sense into you and dragged you out of whatever episode you were having, but instead–

Your stomach growled, and you cleared your throat. 

“Yeah. That was a bad day.” 

“I get it,” Miguel said, and sounded like he meant it. “Guess something like that happened to me.” 

You peered up at him, glimpsing his conflicted, troubled look. 

“Yeah?” Thought Spiderman had a boring, normal story. Because, in totality, you were something more demented than just Spiderman, so your story was more fucked up than the rest. Maybe you were wrong.

“Yeah. I was–my research killed someone when I was trying to make them into, well, Spiderman.” Miguel sighed and shook his head, admonishing himself from the past. “I didn’t want to. I got pressured into it. Drugged when I wanted to quit. It was a mess.

“Tried to rewrite my DNA, and then a colleague shocked that up for me, and I ended up with the claws, the fangs, the–the everything. Slashed his throat by accident, got some other people killed when they tried to help me, killed some baddies when I didn’t mean to.” 

Miguel’s gaze turned to you. “So don’t think you’re alone.” 

“Huh,” you said astutely. “Guess you really meant it when you called us ‘miserable bastards.’”

“Takes one to know one, I guess.” Miguel’s shoulder shifted slightly, easing down so your head could rest more comfortably against him. Your chest swirled with errant embers, but you tried not to think too hard about it. 

“You said I reminded you of her. Of Liliana?” Miguel asked, quiet and tentative. 

You hummed. “Yeah. The good parts.” You smiled (when had that gotten so easy?) and reached over to brush some dark hair from Nico’s tiny forehead. “She was smokin’ hot.” 

“...Huh.”

“Way too smart for her own good,” you continued. “It's always the smart ones that get me, y'know? Anyway, she was sly 'n funny in a mean way, but hey, I like that shit. Maybe I'm a masochist." 

"So," Miguel started, shifting slightly to face you more, "let me get this straight. You think I'm 'smoking hot,' 'too smart for my own good,' and 'funny in a mean way'?" The grin on his face was too much for you to handle. Why did you feel so hot suddenly? Why was he so close suddenly?

"I think that sums it up." 

"Huh. Anyone ever tell you you're an asshole?" 

"Ouch. Okay, what if I throw in 'she was born to be a bangin' mom','' you offered, feeling a long-forgotten rush of excitement as you sat up and leaned in close, so close, your hand coming up to cup the side of his strong neck as you kept talking, "and that she made me feel somethin' for the first time in a long time?" 

You could feel Miguel's breath hitch in his throat as he measured the gap between you two, his eyes flicking down to your lips and back to your eyes in debate. You wanted to close it. With every inch of your being you wanted to take the plunge and crash your lips against his. 

But, with every fibre of your soul, you didn't want to fuck this up. You didn't have words for what this even was, but you cherished it. Sauntering down this line of friendship, of companionship, was better than taking the dive back into that world of icy yearning and wilting roses–this type of love, the platonic sort shared between brothers and men, was meaningful in and of itself. It was good enough.

Wasn't it?

You looked over his face, in disbelief with yourself. "Who am I kidding?" You whispered, letting your hand fall from his neck like a glacier shearing away from its home. 

A small, tired laugh crawled from your chest, and you rubbed your face. "I, uh, think I oughta call it a night. I'm gonna–I gotta tuck Nicky into his crib." And carefully, gently, you scooped up your monkey and whispered quiet thanks into his hair–your little man was the perfect scapegoat. 

What're you thinking? Careful hands pulled up the banana-patterned blanket over Nico's tiny form after you'd set him down in the cozy crib that he loathed so much. You thought it was nice and comfy. Hell, if you could fit, you'd probably snooze in there all day. 

"Good work today, Nicky. I think you made the big guy relax a little, y'know?" Your son cooed sweetly in his sleep, and your spirit lifted just slightly. It almost gave you the strength to go face Miguel after coming onto him so hard. 

Finding the last bit of courage yourself, you gave your boy one last kiss on the noggin and quietly snuck out, closing the door with utmost caution behind you, only to be pressed up against it a moment later, and smothered with a kiss. 

A bolt of lightning kicked your pulse into triple time as you kissed Miguel back. His hands caught you by your hips, and your arms hooked around his shoulders and pulled him in closer. The simple thing was exhilarating. He was exhilarating. The embodiment of strength and resilience, of power and intelligence, was crushing you up against a door and taking the air from your lungs with such ease. 

"Fuck," you gasped when you parted with a wet noise that sounded far too Hollywood. "You're not half bad." 

"You've got a talent for ruining the mood." Miguel scoffed and tilted your chin up. His half-lidded eyes drank you in as soft breaths left his parted lips. You wanted nothing more than to be eaten whole by him (was that weird?). 

"I got a few other talents, too," you purred, voice swirling with velvety dark chocolate. "But that might be too much for an old man like–" 

Your squawked indignantly when he scooped you up and hoisted you over his shoulder like you were nothing but a petulant child. Your hands scrabbled against his back, and a shocked bout of laughter bubbled up from your core as he slapped you on the ass hard. Was this real? Were you seriously getting manhandled and spanked by Miguel O'hara? 

Miguel almost threw you onto the couch, but you guessed the children snoozing in the next room over hampered that decision. 

"If there's one thing I'm never too old for," Miguel murmured lightly, almost condescendingly as he set you down on the couch and got on top of you, "it's sex." 

Your eager hands flitted across his taut muscles, too excited and undecided as to where to land first. "Thought you were too old to sleep around?" 

"I don't sleep around," Miguel corrected, letting you fill in the blanks. 

That helped you relax a little. "Yeah?" 

He looked so conflicted, a little embarrassed, too. But that was becoming more and more common these days, thanks to you. "Yeah." 

You nodded and reached a hand up to his cheek, and he leaned in graciously as a needy cat might. "Okay. Then I don't either." 

Miguel hummed, and turned to mark your palm with a little kiss. "Alright." 

"And maybe…we don't fuck tonight." His sleepy gaze found you again with one dark brow raised, surprised. "I'm, uh, I think I'm down pretty bad for you, Boss. I don't wanna fuck this up." 

And, truth be told, you wanted to give him some respite. Maybe you wanted to give some to yourself, too; Liliana and Dahlia danced through your mind so much these days, no thanks to the burgeoning fondness growing for Miguel. He reminded you of both of them, of Winter and Summer, of snow and flowers. But it wasn't fair, not to you or him, to compare him to the epitome of cold and the apex of warmth. You needed time, too. Time to learn how to compare him to no one.

Miguel smiled, small and sincere. You admired the fine lines crinkling the corners of his eyes. He looked so handsome when he smiled. You wanted him to do it more. Were you enough to make him smile more?

"Yeah. I don't want you to shock this up either," he said, and your brows raised, incredulous. 

"This is what I get for trying to be mature ‘n romantic, huh?” Your fingers drummed against the arms caging you in. You thought about chancing a finger-taser to his ribs, but with those damn claws of his, you were a little too worried about your couch cushions getting demolished.

His handsome smile turned into a punchable smirk. “What? I’m agreeing with you.” 

“Ah-huh, ah-huh, that’s all, hey?” You leaned up and kissed Miguel again, slower and tamer this time, but still burning with want. Ugh. Why did you have to try to be all mature and romantic? “You’re just being a good boy?”

Miguel’s hips twitched at that, and it was your turn to smirk. Oh, how the tables turn. 

“Lay down,” you ordered, sitting up to get out from under him. “Come on.”

“I–what?” He grumbled, looking a little befuddled and frustrated. Cute, cute cute. “Thought we agreed on–”

“Heavy petting’s not off the table, right?” You cut him off. Miguel perked a little bit at the suggestion and did as he was ordered, his hands finding your hips again as you took your turn straddling him. “Luckily for you, I’m an expert at the clothes-on experience.” You winked and Miguel sucked in a breath. 

“Show me.” He ordered, voice deep and gravelly.

And you did.