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#i had such good friends (here and in my church community) who held my hand so gently

obsessedwithlute · 19 days

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Cherrisnake lover here! Can we see what a first date might be like for them?

I am certain that by this ask, you did not mean "Modern AU where Emily pays for their whole date because she's sick of seeing them dance around each other for years and they go see Hamilton".

Alas, I cannot control myself.

Contains swearing, queerphobia (specifically transphobia), slander of religion, people using religion as an excuse to discriminate and possible implications of child abuse and anxiety.

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Pentious’s hands were shaking as he stood at Cherri’s apartment door, trying to work up the courage to knock. I’m still five minutes early, he told himself. I’ve got time. He clutched the bag with two priceless tickets to Hamilton inside, reminding himself that Cherri had agreed to this and he had planned it to perfection and really, what’s the worst that could happen? Hmm, I don’t know. I could be humiliated forever and cry myself to sleep for the next month.

Cherri doesn’t like cowards. She’s into bravery and all that. I’m only lowering my chances by hiding out here.

Pentious lightly banged his fist against Cherri’s door and waited for a few seconds that felt like eternity.

The door clicked open and Cherri stood in front of him, lightly smirking. Don’t blush don’t blush don’t- Goddamnit, he could feel the blood rush to his cheeks. After some awkward silence, Pentious uncovered in himself the otherworldly determination it took to whisper, “Hi.”

He cursed himself.

“I mean, um- hello!” he blurted. Stop stop stop code red you are actively making this worse-

“Hello to you too,” Cherri responded, a sarcastic but kind smile stretching across her face. She grabbed Pentious by the arm and dragged him into her apartment. He fumbled in his bag for the tickets and handed one to Cherri.

“H-here,” he stammered. “Please don’t think this is, like… too much for a first date… Emily gave me the tickets so…” Jesus Christ, Pentious what are you thinking don’t tell her that!!!

“Are you kidding me?? You know I love musicals, don’t apologize… But you will be sitting through my terrible Angelica impression on the way back so… just wanted to warn you.” Cherri smirked again.

Pentious smiled. “I am well known in my friend group for my horrid George Washington voice.”

Cherri nodded and turned her back to remove her coat from the hook it sat on. “Hm, well I must say I find horrid George Washington voices very sexy.” Before Pentious could respond to that, she held up a finger and hissed, “I said what I said.”

Cherri and Pentious walked to the subway station and after a twenty-minute wait due to some hold-up, collapsed into the comfortable train seats.

Pentious reached in his pocket for the cards he had prepared. The first read, in last night’s tired, drunk scrawling ASK HER FAVORITE COLOR.

He obeyed himself, turned to Cherri, and asked, “What’s your favorite color?”

“Red, you know, like blood,” she said absentmindedly. “Why?”

“Oh, um no reason, just, you know, get to you know shit and all that, even though I mean, like, we've been friends for years, I should probably know your… OH FUCK! I mean, dammit! Um- Sorry for swearing… There are little children here… fuck it…”

“You’re capable of swearing?” Cherri asked incredulously. “You seem so… innocent… like one of those people who apologizes for saying, like, heck.”

“Um… it’s something that I accidentally do whenever I’m nervous- I try to work on it but often fail, and you’re referring to Emily, not me.”

“Don’t remind me…”

“Of the time she basically got on her knees and begged forgiveness for saying gosh?”

“Blame her upbringing,” Cherri scoffed. “And Sera. And the church.”

“Mostly the church,” Pentious agreed.

“A-hem,” a brunette woman coughed from across the train. She stood up and began to march over towards Cherri and Pentious. “I will not hear the good god-fearing community slandered in the vicinity of my young, impressionable children. And I will certainly not tolerate that propaganda pinned to your shirt, ma’am.” She pointed to the transgender flag and he/him pins on Pentious’s shirt, clearly taking a look at his visible hips.

Cherri stood up. “Hello, what are your name and pronouns?” she asked, a fake-sweet smile on her face.

“I have very strong words to say to you, but unlike you young miscreants, I won’t allow them to taint my mouth,” she said.

A second woman, this one in a leather jacket, left the herd of children the brunette had been ushering on the train and stepped next to her. “Sis, we both know your mouth is already tainted. And if you can’t stand these people insulting your ‘good community’ in front of your impressionable children, why don’t you go spend some time with those children, instead of just insulting their clothing like you have all night?”

The brunette turned to leave, but before she did so, she eyed Cherri, Pentious and her sister, and told them, “You should ask God for forgiveness.”

She turned on her heel and stalked off.

“I am so sorry,” the woman in leather said. “She was completely out of line.” “Please make sure she doesn’t rub off on those kids too much,” Cherri told her at the same time Pentious said, “Forget about us, just worry about those poor children.” The woman smiled. “You too are such a cute couple- don’t worry; I’m not making some stupid ‘people of opposite genders in public- ooh, they must be dating’ assumption. You’re just obviously compatible!”

“Oh, um, well-” Pentious blushed. Again. Fuck.

“It’s just our first date,” Cherri finished.

“I see,” the woman in leather said, nodding. She removed a small notebook and pen from her pocket, ripped out a page and scribbled something on it.

She handed it to them and smiled. “Here’s my number. Call me when you get engaged so I can show up at your wedding.” “Our what?” Cherri demanded. The woman just smiled and left.

After their stop was called, Cherri and Pentious looked at each other, simultaneously shrugged and just laughed.

Suddenly, Pentious gasped. “We’re going to be late, we need to fucking run!”

“Okay, then let’s run!” Cherri yelled, grabbing Pentious by the wrist again and basically dragging them out of the station.

Once they’d finally made it to the theater and dodged death a few times, Pentious was gasping and Cherri was barely breaking a sweat.

“How… are you… so fast?” he demanded between breaths.

“I did cross-country in high school. Come on, we can’t miss anything!!” she yelled.

Finally, they managed to make it to the theater and settled into their seats. Somewhere between “The Schuyler Sisters” and “Right Hand Man”, Cherri and Pentious’s hands found each other.

After the show, Cherri and Pentious bought pretty much their weight in Hamilton merch (Emily was sponsoring their whole date, anyway, what did it matter?) and called an Uber- they were not in the mood for another wonderful subway experience.

Waiting in the dark, they talked about a lot of things they just hadn’t had time to discuss before, smiled, laughed, and got a little emotional.

Their Uber arrived and dropped Cherri off at her house, then drove Pentious the rest of the way to his.

The next morning, Pentious’s phone lit up with one text from Cherri: So, what flavor cake should we have? Wouldn’t want to let the cool aunt down.

#hazbin hotel #sir pentious #cherrisnake #cherri bomb #modern au fic #hazbin hotel fanfiction #trans!pentious #so the queerphobic asshole and her liberal sister will be showing up in more of my fics probably #so the official tag for them is now #queerphobic mom & liberal aunt #i'm so sorry

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cool-trina-world · 8 months

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The Reckoning

So, I've been in a tunnel. It wasn't a bad tunnel; there wasn't any depression. There was a lot of sleeping, and resting, a little work. It appears to have been a reckoning. As in REconnoitering, or Re considering... Something like that.

My beliefs have been changing for a while, or so I thought. It turns out my beliefs are actually pretty solid. I always had a problem with proclaiming any particular church. When I would try to tithe something would always come up, I have been led by The Spirit for a long time. Even when I got myself lost I was covered. Things could have gone much, much worse.

One particular incident came to mind, this evening. QAnd it is one that only I am witness to, at least among the people around me. But I guarantee that the people of River of Life Church, In Clearwater, Fla. Circa 2006ish still pray for me.

Things were pretty rough for Tim and myself. Issues that are not important right now. I was in pretty desperate straights. I had been considering getting back on the psychotropic drugs the medical community had prescribed for me in the worst of times. Instead, I went to church. Man! did that work out good for me. Circumstances didn't improve... much, Well, Off And On. But they got much worse first.

So, anyway, I was going to church at least twice a week , and sometimes more. One night, Tim decided to go with me, and, After the service, at the invitation, The preacher turned and looked at Tim and crooked his finger. Tim Didn't even look at me , he just started forward and i stayed in place. But when Tim got down that aisle, walking like he was entranced, when he was about two paces from the man on the Steps of Acceptance,(my creative license, here). That Preacher man reached out and Tim laid back, looking in total sync, and Tim was on his back. My whole Torso went to billowing , in and out, arms almost acting like a bellows. suddenly there were women on every side of me calling on the Lord, and I went back too. As they lay me gently across the bench and held their hands over me. I could hear the preacher, I could hear the ladies around me, but my eyes were rolled back and closed and my belly just kept billowing. I heard one of them say, The one behind my seat, leaned over with her hands outstretched above my belly, Remember, my eyes were closed. She said, "You are going to birth something huge". A few minutes later, I opened my eyes, Tim stood up and returned to me, we finished the service and went home to the motel room we rented for about 6 months, and life continued. There are many things I remember about this church, But only a couple that apply to this particular subject I am touching on today. One was a comment the Lady of the church made one evening during the announcements.

She was just up there chatting to us, with her beautiful smile and her truly beautiful spirit, and she commented that there was talk about their theme, that parishioners were asking them not to teach on the doctrine of prosperity, and that maybe those people were in the wrong church. My ears perked but I didn't pay it much mind I was there to worship, and for me at least, The Spirit was there. Another evening, while the Man was preaching, I felt the urge to open my bible, And I do not remember the address of the verse I opened it to. I do remember, however, what it said. It was talking about the river of life and the trees bearing fruit on both sides of it. it was in the Old Testament.

I did not need the pharmaceuticals I had been considering, The ones I was actually totally against using. They had done their job in the crisis. Some they had prescribed were far too much to ever allow me a productive life again. That is the problem with pharmaceuticals. They are not meant to make you well. They are meant to improve your existence enough to keep you on them, making money for Big Pharma.

After that We went To Groveland, And ended up staying there with my friend, who had a home there, and my brother who was living and homemaking with said friend. Things happened and I went to church. It was called The Church of Deliverence. And what was delivered to me there was A Word. A word meant for me to remember today. For this time right now.

I walked to the church. I didn't mind the heat. I needed to worship. Our existence was pretty miserable, even with the temporary soft landing provided by my friend, in her home, with my brother. The very small church was totally welcoming. The leaders and congregants numbering not more than 20, and children. Horrified that I walked in that heat, insisting in the end, that i catch a ride home with them. And No, It didn't matter that it was the opposite direction. They gave me the tithes and offerings that day. I did not ask for it. In fact I protested. A lady spoke out and said that she felt the push to give it to me, and another lady said she had been thinking the same thing. And there were several 'ayes'. And my protest meant nothing. I replied that they didn't even Know me. The returning reply was " No but the Lord Does know you".

Things still didn't get better. But I continued on my River Of Life with my faith intact and strengthened. From both these church experiences. And these are just a few of the very memorable experiences that I have witnessed in the churches, in my quest for God and community. And Poignantly, I want to note that these were both Black churches. except for me.

All of that said in order to say this. I do believe the church age is over, for the vast majority of us who have studied and searched very hard for truth. Those of us in search of the wisdom of God. An answer to the incongruencies of this lost world and the spiritual darkness and blindness we find ourselves confronted with in this church age. I do still consider myself to be faithful to the living God and His word, which somehow comes down in wisdom and spirit through the corruption of the church and politics and general living conditions of the day and age we find ourselves living in.

I do believe in the Trinity- the God-Head, Mind, body, and soul. The beastly, or animal body we find ourselves in, houses the intellect in our mind and transports it all with the Spirit that comes down at birth and inhabits it for each lifetime. I believe that Jesus Lives. He did walk the Earth and we have been counting time on that fact ever since.

I believe that there was a reason the Spirit reached for Tim before he could even get to the Steps of Acceptance. And I believe that we are one. That I had, on that day, very clear proof that our spirits had combined into one unit on the day that we married and took our vows. for better or for worse. And i believe that my faith has outgrown and overcome the need for a church. Not the need for connection, but the need for what the church was meant to provide. I believe the church was meant to be an introduction. That finding The Way, doesn't mean being limited to rules and regulations of man. That religion is an overstepping of what the spirit needs from us. Jesus came to give us the power of divinity. He said so in his very own words. Jesus did not come to be worshipped, but to be followed, and believed... To give us an abundance of goodness, and health and life. That life is meant to be enjoyed , not endured. And that i am so glad i left the spirit of lack and neediness behind.

I believe that we are to study to show ourselves approved, and that walking in the Spirit in this River of Life will lead to the House of Deliverence. Which was , Ironically the Last church I attended in Knoxville, Tn. Before finding The Water Angels, A Ministry of Ministry.

I don't go to church much anymore. When i do It is to worship, not to receive. I receive Daily. I have for many years.

Now I am Involved with Reverse Speech and The Voice of the Spirit in Each of us. I practice with Herbs and Gems , plant and stone. The elements the Creation of this world gave us to live with and heal ourselves. And I live this under the stars, and the heavens that God wrote his wisdom in for us to read. That is not an aspect of my path. But I have always known it was there for a reason, and for an organization of Man to tell me, and others how to live it, is a hampering of the potentiality of the life we have come into. the Life the Father meant for us to live, No matter what you call that Father. There is no gender in Spirit, gender lives in the flesh, and there is a divine reason for that. We can't change that. and my perspective doesn't have to be yours.

So, Finally, I give my testimony. I have never really done that before... I know my path now. It has just opened up, and I can see it now, It only took all my life. I think I am going to live to !@) years. Yes I did that on purpose. Because i am going to live it by the word of God and The spirit given me to live it. And I am going to spread that word as it is given me . With all the color and sound and intent this world provides to give it with.

My name is Trina Carroll, And I am going to be Singing the Trinity. Body Mind and Spirit. He Called Me By My Name. I didn't always Know that Name. That is a whole 'nother story in itself. But I knew He called me. And I have finally have the direction for the blog that I named many years ago.

He Called Me by My Name. I didn't even know what my name was , but I always knew it is Not for your use or for Mine.

And this excerpt , we are going to call "the Reckoning".

You heard it here. And all because I got this stupid thing in my email, and I did not need to go there and hear it(screenshot to follow). THe music is my invocation. I use it often.

youtube

#RiverofLife #Houseofdeliverance #HeCalledMeByMyName #notforyouruseormine #Youtube #Reversespeech #soulserver #watchers

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oldsalempost-blog · 9 months

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The Old Salem Post

Our Local Tamassee-Salem SC Area News each Monday except holidays Contact: [email protected] Distributed to local businesses, town hall, library.

Volume 7 Issue 29 Week of July 31, 2023 https://www.tumblr.com/settings/blog/oldsalempost-blog Lynne Martin Publishing

EDITOR: I enjoy writing and delivering this little newspaper. My first stop is to the Town of Salem to pick up copies where I see Angie and Marti, and sometimes Wendy. I walk across the entrance area to see my favorite librarians and often turn in or check out a new movie. Then I drive to my stops to hand deliver copies to businesses, friends and family. This is not a chore. It is a gift I hope you enjoy. I try to share a little news and goodness. LRM

Town of SALEM: Election: The Town of Salem will be holding election for Mayor and 2 Council seats. held Nov 7, 2023 at the Salem Town Hall. Candidate filing is from Friday Aug 11, noon through noon Monday Aug 25th. Candidates must reside within the Salem town limits…..We will begin collecting Toys for Tots on Sept 9th, 5pm at the last summer car show. Fire Dept will be selling food. There will be first and second places for car shows and for the group and/or club who brings the most toys. We are asking all local churches and businesses to participate to fill up our boxes. We helped 94 children have Christmas last year within the Tamassee-Salem area. 944-2819. Visit the Downtown Market every Sat 8am-12pm. *The children’s area at the Town park is closed for now for renovations. The picnic shelter can still be rented.

NEWS: Check out Face Book Remembrance stories, Reflections of Yesteryears Gone by Brenda Dubose.

BLESSING BOX: (located across the street from the Dollar General) The items in the Blessing Box are restocked by individuals or organizations, such as churches. Organizations, churches, and individuals have signed up to be Blessing Box Keepers. The Keepers are responsible for monitoring the box one or two months out of the year to ensure items are stocked as needed. A Blessing Box is a loving way to give to those less fortunate and provides a wonderful way to be fulfilled by giving to others. Communities that support one another are happier and healthier and improve the quality of life for all. Be a Blessing.......by J Young

Jottings from Jeannie: Reminiscing I visited with the Renzs who are moving from Lake Cherokee. Paul declared, "We hardly know any residents here now." This is SO true. New fancy, rich people with $350,000 to pay for a home have moved here. This is a different Lake Cherokee from the lake I fell in love with in 1984. Lopsided docks and banged up water craft dotted the shoreline. We could afford a $25,000 cinder-block lake front cottage. Cracks in the cinder-blocks allowed sunlight, as well as miscellaneous critters to enter. We found snake skins under bed. Did this diminish my enthusiasm for Lake Cherokee? Not a bit. On our second visit my inquisitive sons, ages 7 and 8, retrieved a burlap bag from the end of the dock. The bag, containing rocks and a pitiful family of mute kittens, had been submerged there since we had introduced ourselves to the neighbors. Did THIS diminish my enthusiasm? NO! But it was then that I had a stunning realization: I needed to proceed loving Lake Cherokee with a dose of Caution. (Continued) Miz Jeannie

JOCASSEE VALLEY BREWING COMPANY,(JVBC) & COFFEE SHOP 13412 N Hwy 11 Open Wed–Sat-Sat 8am-9pm. Sun: 12pm-7pm. Events this week: Wing WED: Wing Wagon at 5pm, Blue Grass Jam at 6:30pm. Fri– Food: IRON OAK BARN at 5pm Music: Jaguar4 at 6:30pm. Sat–Food: Wing Wagon —Music: Jazzy Trinity 6:30pm. Sun: 12pm-7pm Food Truck: Iron Pig, Music The Cahn Brothers 4pm More information call 864-873-0048

State Parks : Have you ever wondered why some areas of parks are restricted or prohibited? Some areas can be dangerous. Some areas need extra protection from harm to keep us from “Loving it to death.” Some areas might have habitats to protect. Always respect the these areas. Teach others to do the same. LRM

Quote of the week by John Wesley, founder of Methodism: Do all the good you can, by all the means you can, in all the ways you can, in all the places you can, at all the times you can, to all the people you can, as long as ever you can.

DAR SCHOOL STUDENT FROM 1942-46 RECALLS . .(Eighteenth Installment of Pauline Kelley Cannon's Memoir). . .Graduation day came and there was quite a crowd of people there. We didn't have the traditional cap and gown to wear, but all the girls wore white dresses and the boys wore white shirts and blue jeans. . .Although I had achieved my dream of finishing high school, the graduation ceremony was a bittersweet time for me, because there was no one from my family there to see me walk across the stage and receive my diploma. I also felt sad that the time had come for me to depart with all my friends and the school that I dearly loved. . .After the ceremony I returned to my room for the last time and finished packing my footlocker. I then caught the bus and went home. I will always remember that bittersweet day as long as I live. God never fails to comfort!. . .(Footnote written by Ashton Hester: As Mrs. Cannon related in her previous story entitled "Memories of Sharecropping in Oconee County," after graduating from Tamassee DAR School in May of 1946, she returned home and lived there until marrying Ernest Cannon on April 16, 1947).. .TO BE CONCLUDED NEXT WEEK

Sound of Freedom: This heart wrenching movie about human trafficking and the passion of a man to risk his life to help these children is still making amazing surprise records at the box office. This movie almost never made the theatres due to extremists stirring up political controversy. Go see this movie! It will continue to increase awareness of this crime against the innocent! The United States of American is the worst in human trafficking.

EAGLES NEST ART CENTER , 501c3, 4 Eagle Lane, Salem DHEC kitchen available & rentals

ENAC TREASURE STORE– Open every first and third Saturdays each month. 9am-12noon. Open this Saturday August 5tht!

TALENT SHOWCASE: August 12th. 7pm-9pm. Come to be entertained! Tickets $5 at the door. Call 864-280-1258 or email [email protected]. All ages welcomed!

SONGS of the COWBOY Trail- Aug. 19th, 7pm– A Tribute benefitting ENAC. Jef Wilson sings the songs of Gene Autry, Bob Wills, Cowboy Copas and others. Show only $10 or Cowboy Dinner & Show $20.

CHURCH NEWS Salem Methodist Church: Community Women’s Bible Study each Monday morning, 10am in the Fellowship Hall.

FRIENDS: We all have a few friends where you just pick up where you left off in friendship, no matter how much time has past. One of mine is Luann. We share the precious memories, but one we always share with each other is what we learned from the other one. I told her that I loved her boldness when it came to talking about Christ and praying in the moment. She brought me from a being a silent Christian to being a bold Christian. She tells me, “ Honey, you taught me, ‘You better buy that land now, because they aren’t making anymore!’” She was always glad I encouraged her to purchase her granddaddy’s 40 acre farm. Precious things can get away if we are not careful. Precious friends are in your heart to stay, no matter how much time or distance passes.

****Please send news, stories, and church events to [email protected] to share in your local paper! Have a good and blessed week! LRM

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bridaninparis · 10 months

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On July 3rd, I arrived here in Paris, France. Today is the 6th and I have had such a wonderful time these past few days.

The first day I spent in Paris was admittedly lackluster. I was tried from jet lag, overwhelmed from travel, and I missed my pets. The second day I woke up, I was no longer foul from sleep deprivation, but I was sick. I ended up spending the whole day in bed and honestly, it was probably good that I got a chance to recharge.

The third day was the first that I felt like I really got to enjoy things, and it made up for the time that I spent being tired and sick. I have been referring to it as “Ancient Day.” This was one of the lessons that, being a history major, I was most excited for. We got to visit and discuss several locations and their Roman influences. I like to think I’m an expert on all things Greek and Roman since I read the Percy Jackson books, but I had no clue about Rome’s influence on France, and Paris specifically. Before this day, if you had asked me anything about French history, I only could’ve given you details about Sofia Coppola’s Marie Antionette. We got to visit Roman theaters, the crypt beside the Notre Dame, the Pantheon, and a few churches.

I have loved getting to see the old churches. They are so beautiful and decadent. You don’t see that kind of display in American churches, which is a real shame because I think that architecture and art can be powerful ways to honor God and show your reverence for him. In my church, we have huge projector screens, ugly green carpets, and a real lack of artwork (although maybe I should just be grateful we haven’t added fog machines yet).

Today was the fourth day, and we spent our time focusing on Parisian food and gastronomy. We spent our morning and afternoon walking around an open air market, and then visiting several specialty food shops. In Paris, they seem to have a more balanced diet. They enjoy their sweets of course, but they do things in moderation. They are very intentional about the selection of their meals and the ingredients that go in them. Something I noticed very soon after I arrived was the café/restaurant culture here. I work in a restaurant at home and there, people want to get their food and drinks as quickly as possible, ask their server for a billion different things, scarf down their food, and then leave. In Paris it is so opposite. The server will take your drink and food order and then leave you to be until you flag them down for the bill. This is because people like to sit and enjoy their food and their company. They aren’t rushing to eat, they will sit there for hours, taking their time and savoring each bite. I am struggling to adapt to this norm. When a few of us go out to eat here, there might be a table that had already sat down before we got there, but remain even after we’ve left because we are so used to the fast-paced American way of doing things. I am learning to enjoy it more though. It is nice to go out with some friends, talk, laugh, drink, and not worry about feeling like you’ve overstayed your welcome. Although restaurant culture is very different, I feel like cooking practices are very similar. Not in the sense that we eat the same foods, just in the sense that cooking in Appalachia is a very passionate thing. Growing up, my church had a Homecoming Sunday every year that was celebrated with a big meal held in the chapel. My dad would shorten his sermon for that day because he knew that once the sent of food cooking in the kitchen wafted into the main room, and then once he said the final prayer everyone would rush to fill their plates with chicken, mashed potatoes, deviled eggs, and other “southern delicacies.” The food was prepared by the hands of people who cared about you, and cared about making sure you enjoyed your food. That made it more special. These meals would last three hours, we took our time eating but mostly sat around talking afterwards. I can see that same sense of community and friendship shared over meals here on the streets of Paris.

Every day I’m finding out about the differences between American and French culture, but it’s also nice knowing that there’s a little bit of home here as well.

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blackmissfrizzle · 2 years

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Steve's Washateria

Characters: Steve Rogers x black!reader

Summary: Finally you take Steve's offer to use his washer and dryer, but are you willing to pay the price?

Warnings: Smut and overall cuteness

Every single week, you and your cute ass neighbor would have the same conversation. Somehow Steve would catch you in the hallway whenever you had to peer over the mountain of clothes in your hamper on your way to the apartment’s washroom. It would never fail, no matter your protest about working in the infectious disease unit that he would take the hamper with ease and set it down for you.

Each time the conversations would get longer and you wouldn’t want them to end, but you knew he was tired from saving the world or work would interrupt, either way he would always have to leave. No matter the reason he had to leave, the conversation always ended the same.

“You know instead of me carrying your heavy-,”

You held up one church finger. “I doubt its that heavy when your able to move cars.” You smirked.

He scoffed and looked at the ground, before staring up at you through those supernaturally long eyelashes for a man. “As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted,” He moved one of your stray braids or locs from the front of your face. “You can always use my machines instead of hauling that down here.”

“And what’s it gonna cost me?” Please say pussy, please say pussy, please say pussy.

Steve always dreaded this question. Yes he wanted to spend more time with you, but his intentions grew less pure each time he asked this question. He had a hard time, hiding his baser desires. Especially after he saw you in that sports bra and shorts. “A cup of coffee?”

“I would bu-,”

“But you just worked in the infectious disease unit. One day that ain’t gonna work.” He walked out backwards so he could look at you for as long as possible.

“But today ain’t the day Ice Man!”

Steve laughed. “Have a nice night, YN.”

“You too, Steve,”

One day you didn’t have the energy to go all the way to the basement. Work and the gym tuckered you out. Steve’s washroom was so much closer and he had a couch.

Once Steve opened the door, he knew you were finally caving in. “Gonna cost you a cup of coffee and conversation.” He smirked, leaning against his doorway in nothing but a wife beater and gray sweats. Who knew Captain Steve Rogers was apart of the hoochie daddy community.

“I’m good for it.”

Before you could make your way in, Steve took the hamper. “You’re in luck, I just made a fresh pot.”

“Can’t get a Keruig like the rest of us, sir?” You poured yourself a cup, then browsed his albums. You could easily see he was making his way through the music he missed. The albums were in order by year. ‘Marvin Gaye? My daddy loves him.”

Steve used his stealth to sneak behind you. It gave him the chance to inhale your scent with you unaware. He had to get you to lay your head on his throw pillows. That way he could fall asleep to your scent. “A friend suggested it. I got a whole list in a little black book.”

“Like of everything you missed?!” You jumped, not knowing he was so close to you. Accidentally you spilled your coffee on him. “Oh my gosh Steve.” You took a paper towel and pressed it against his shirt. Fuck this man was made of steel. His body felt like a wall. “Shit!” Some dripped to the front of his pants. Without thinking you patted that dry as well. Oh sweet baby Jesus and the grown one too. Steve was packing some heat below the belt. Just like the dork you were, you couldn’t stop patting his dick.

As if it were possible, Steve was getting harder with every pat. His hand snapped out to reach for your wrist.

This was the most embarrassing day ever. You were never talking to Steve again. He was looking at you as if you wanted to murder you. Probably because you violated his space and spilled hot ass coffee on him. “Steve, I’m so sorry.”

Fuck it, he had to go for it. Natasha and Tony complained he wasn’t living his life. Right now seems like the best time to start. “You should be.” He used the hand he grabbed to pull you closer to him. His thigh rested right between your valley of sweetness. “How are you ever are gonna repay me?” His nose ran alongside your pulsepoint.

Was Steve flirting with you? By the way he rubbed his cock against you it was safe to assume that he was. “Um, I could cook you something. I can throw down in the kitchen.”

“I want something to eat, but it ain’t in the kitchen.”

Has this man been in your dreams? Too many times this scenario has been a featured film in your dreams.

“You can pay me by wetting my dick with that juicy pussy instead of coffee.” Consent, shit. Steve’s body language softened and he backed away to give you space. He wanted you to think with a clear head and with no pressure. “Uh but only if you want to. Because you can back away at any time.”

You interrupted Steve’s rant by sticking his fingers in your pussy. “Take your payment.”

A switch went off in Steve’s head. Kind and nurturing Steve went to the background. “So fucking tight.” He watched in amazement as his fingers collected your honey.

“Steve,” your back arched. His fingers were thicker than you ever experienced. “Please,” you scooted away.

He hooked his arm around your waist. “What you want pretty girl? You want to cum?” He sucked your nipple through your shirt.

To stop from alerting your neighbors, you bit your lip. Steve bit your nipple. That sting with the combination of the fabric of your shirt had you in ecstasy. “Yes,” you threw your head back.

Steve pulled your chin down. His cool blue eyes had fire behind them. “Then don’t fucking run from me.” He growled.

Picking you up, his fingers never left your pussy. Mid-air he made you cum as he walked you to the washer. Steve set you on top of the machine. The mere vibration of the home appliance had you cumming again.

Steve already knew he was hooked, but right now he decided he would never let you go. “Taste.” His fingers were covered in you. They shone under the small light.

The swirl of your tongue around his fingers made him make a mental note to have you on your knees tonight giving the same treatment to his dick.

“Don’t swallow yet.” He held your chin as he kissed you. Maybe he could forget about the head. Kissing you had to be his favorite thing, especially tasting your ambrosia on your tongue.

He pumped his cock a couple of times. He slid inside of you. “Holy,” Steve buried his head in the crook of your neck. There he bit your shoulder, leaving his mark.

“My god.” You sighed. “Steve!” His hands, his mouth, his dick, and the washing machine made for the perfect team up. Your senses were overloaded. You couldn’t focus on just one thing.

Steve had to remind himself to keep moving. The faces you made were better than any sunset.

“Steve!” You refrained from pushing yourself off the washing machine. You were so overstimulated, you couldn’t form any other words but Steve’s name.

He sensed your impending orgasm. “Give it to me. Give it all to me.”

Everything happened in perfect synchronization. Your orgasm, Steve’s orgasm, and the washing machine all went off at the same time. One of the neighbors had to believe that a party or something was going on from how loud you were.

Steve caressed your sex drunk face. He stashed it in his memory back. He would have to draw it later, but now he had other concerns.at the moment. “Another load?” He massaged your clit.

Oh yeah, you were definitely only doing your laundry from here now on.

Taglist: @akimi-youngblood @toni9 @nightlywords7 @blowmymbackout @blackreaderatrisk @imatrisk @princess-rene @oliviasunnyloveheart @bugngiz @po3ticb3auty @ourlittlesecretsoveragain @bigsisbria @melanatedprincessd @palmstreesallday @melaninfinest-ash @est1887 @christinemg18 @topshopwhxre @kaystacks17 @otomefromtheheart @justcallmejassy91 @callmejaye @wakeama849 @anythingandeverything97 @sia2raw @marvelmaree @logos-ethos @live-laugh-love-ki @ctrlszn @langiinspirations @thelimited-unlimited @pearlkitten33 @jackburtonsays @holl271212 @sixxela @titty-teetee @handcannonxgalore @asyamonet22 @spoonful-of-sugar8 @onesstop @namjonnwatcheshentai @turn-thy-paige @fairytale07 @rissa-francis @bluekristie @chazubagi

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x black!reader #marvel #marvel fanfic #frizzlefic #frizzlesfic

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kennyb0y · 2 years

Text

Sins

priest!shiba taiju x fem!reader

Warnings: smut, dubcon, corruption, semi-public sex, god kink kinda???, sacrilege

Father Taiju knew who you were. Everyone did. Recently widowed, your husband disappeared and was found dead a couple of days ago. No one knew what happened.

Your husband was a good man. He went to church every Sunday with his beautiful - and much younger - wife on his arm. It was a shock when the news of his death was out and it affected the whole community. Everyone gave their support to his wife, who cried so hard at his funeral while her friends held her. It was tragic, really. The police were trying their best to find the killer and everyone in the town was helping.

It wasn’t a surprise when you requested Father Taiju to have a talk with him so you could confess to him. The last time you went to church was for your husband’s funeral and Taiju could understand why you haven’t been there lately. You walk through the church’s doors, wearing a black dress, high heels and a mourning veil. You made your way to the confessional, heels clicking against the marble floor. The sound is almost deafening, echoing through the empty church.

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been a few weeks since my last confession.” your low, smooth voice echoed through his ears. “I did something really bad, Father Taiju. I’m not sure I should be speaking about it.”

“Tell me your sins, my child. Everything you say will stay between us and God.”

“I have been having some… sexual desires, Father. My husband couldn’t fulfill them.” you whisper, your fingers playing with the ring on your left hand. “And then I found out why he wasn’t and I lost my mind.”

Your voice was so innocent. Taiju almost couldn’t process the sinful words coming out of your mouth. How could someone so sweet and pure have such desires so nasty that her husband couldn’t help before his tragic death?

“Have you ever… felt that, Father?” he snaps back to reality when he hears you.

“Felt what?” Taiju loses his composure for a bit, palms so sweaty that he has to run them on his pants.

“The intense and forbidden desire for someone. The need to touch them, feel them, all of it. A hot burning passion that makes you lose your mind.”

“That is not appropriate, my child. Those aren’t matters that should be discussed here. You need to let go of those sinful thoughts.” the priest says, hands even more sweatier than before, the confessional suddenly hot and suffocating.

There wasn’t a response from the other side, only the noise of heels clicking again announcing that you had gotten up and left the booth. Taiju thought you left but he was proven wrong when the small door to his part of the booth was open. Before he could even process what happened, you were sitting on his lap closing the door to give you privacy.

Taiju almost stopped breathing. His words got caught up on his throat and he couldn’t react. Your thighs were straddling him, a short black dress hugging your body, the low cut showing your chest. He could see the black thigh high stocking along with garters that were peeking from the bottom of the dress. His eyes were wide open, trying to process what just had happened.

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.” your beautiful, innocent voice said. “I’ve been really bad.”

Your voice may have sounded pure but your eyes were far from it. The burning hot desire you were just talking about was present in them and against his will, he felt his cock getting hard. Your hands unbuttoned his shirt, nails scratching his chest and making their way down his body. Taiju couldn’t breath, the feeling of your hands near his crotch was painful. He couldn’t believe this was happening, it was unethical and wicked. And the worst part - he was enjoying it.

“Ple-please stop.” he stuttered, trying to move you away from him.

“You have to be more convincing, Father.” you unbuttoned his pants, hand sneaking inside his boxers and palming his dick. “You seem like you’re enjoying it. What a pervert.” you laugh.

Taiju felt like crying. He swore to devote his whole body and soul to the church and yet here he was, with your hand around his dick. He doesn’t move and simply prays to God for forgiveness. Even though he didn’t want to admit it, he was enjoying it so much. Taiju bit his hand trying to control the noises coming out of his mouth. The last thing he wanted was to have someone walk in and hear everything.

You push your panties to the side, eyes never leaving Taiju’s. And when you guide his dick to your hole, the man breaks down sobbing.

“How does it feel to lose your virginity, Father?” the tone in your voice was wicked, mocking Taiju that tried to control his cries. Yet you still looked so innocent.

“Please just stop!” he pleaded. “I’m not allowed to do this.”

“Shhhh shhhhh. I’ll do all the work, Father. Just try not to cum too soon.” you say before starting to move up and down.

Taiju grunted loud, head falling bad and closing his eyes. He couldn’t stop crying, whispering small prayers for forgiveness. It felt so good and he felt disgusting for liking such unholy acts but he couldn’t deny how much he liked your warm pussy and the way your boobs move even with the dress covering it. In a moment of weakness, Taiju thought about how lucky your husband was.

“Oh my God.” he moaned, enjoying the way your pussy clenched.

“Am I your new God, Father? I bet the one up there doesn’t make you feel this good.” you laugh, pulling Taiju’s hair to make him look at you. “Are you going to worship my pussy, Father? So good for me, letting me milk your virgin cock.”

And Taiju came hard, his thick and sticky cum filling you to the brim. He closed his eyes for a bit, trying to catch his breath. When he opened them again, you had already stepped outside. He looked at you with adoration. Maybe Taiju really was going to worship someone else.

You fixed your hair and your clothes, looking around to see if anyone else was there.

“I take it as my sins are forgiven?” you ask, the pure look back on your face.

“I-“ before he could reply, cops barged in the church. Guns held up, pointing at the woman in front of him.

You smile at him, arms going up. “You are under arrest for the murder-“

Taiju stopped listening. He merely watched you get handcuffed, a smile never leaving your face. “Come visit me, Father.” you whisper when you walk past him.

And just like that, he didn’t see you again.

Taglist: @bxnten @crybabylisa @lagrimasdeglitter @mizumellon @spookydraken @rozcdust

#taiju smut #taiju x reader #taiju shiba #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers smut #tokyorev fic #tokyorev smut #tokyorev x reader #tokrev taiju #taiju x you #tokyo revengers taiju

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crystalcow · 3 years

Text

𝑆𝑎𝑝𝑛𝑎𝑝𝑠 𝐶ℎ𝑖𝑙𝑑//𝑆𝑎𝑝𝑛𝑎𝑝 𝑝𝑡 3

Masterlist // part one // part two

Sapnap x reader !p !child reader

Pronouns used: none specified!

Warnings: swearing, death, betrayal

•⊱✿•✿⊰•⊱✿•✿⊰•⊱✿•✿⊰•⊱✿•✿⊰•⊱✿•✿⊰

╔.▪️.═════════╗

Being sapnaps child will include..

╚═════════.▪️.╝

𝐏𝗼𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐰𝐚𝐥

Apparently the castle got attacked

George was killed by the one and only technoblade

You haven’t personally met the man but you respected him

After all he is a legend

But he killed George

So you were dragged with sapnap when he got pinged on his coms

Dream and George were arguing on the prime path

The sight somewhat terrified you

They were supposed to be best friends?

Dream is the strongest person on the server

George was supposed to be the most unproblematic and protected person

For some reason Quackity was also there

Hiding in the corner of Tommy’s house

“You don’t give a shit about us”

Those words brought some hurt to you as they left sapnaps mouth

“Of course I care about you! I just want to keep him safe.”

The three most important men in your life

The dream team, and ultimate trio the friendship that could never crack! The ones who raised you to be who you are

They were falling apart

“George is no longer king!”

Quackity was just eating all of the drama

Damn duck

“I’ve done so much for you, I hope you don’t forget.”

“Like what?” “I helped you raise a child Sap, a damn child.”

That pissed the both of you off

As if you didn’t just recently spend a whole day with him

None the less your whole life

Being drawn into wars, multiple actually

Practically being drawn to death

“Don’t you bring them into this Dream.”

“Eret is now king again, he can actually rule this place.”

“I was the best king this server ever had!”

So there it happened

The crown was snatched off of George’s head and you were dragged along with it

“Don’t worry, we can start our own place!”

“El rapids it is”

𝐄𝐥 𝐑𝐚𝐩𝐢𝐝𝐬

You were 100% skeptical about all of this

You didn’t trust that this would be good

I mean how could you

Everything that someone starts on the server

Dies, explodes, nukes, or straight up fails

So instead you went down to Lmanburg for the day!

You went to Nikkis bakery to get something to eat

She was glad to give you a couple snacks for the road

So while you were walking around the new area you spotted dream

“Where you heading off to?”

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

You both eyed each other weirdly

“Aren’t you supposed to hate me?”

You just laughed

Ofcourse you were upset

But you were also bored

“And?” “Come on let’s go see tommy”

So you agreed and carelessly followed the green man

You missed Tommy, after not having seen him for a bit

Fucking hell you needed friends

But when you got there

“Why the fuck is everything gone!”

You ran around the now blown up area

The tents were destroyed and signs were thrown around

Then you noticed the large pillar

You instantly ran to dream, begging him to give you a pearl

He was upset himself he lost his leech

So you threw the pearl up thankfully landing on the pillar

Looking around to see if there was any way he could’ve survived

But you accidentally tripped

And lost your first life

𝐘/𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝗼𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝗼𝗼 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝 ♡︎♥︎♥︎

𝐏𝐫𝗼𝐩𝗼𝐬𝐚𝐥𝐬

You woke up screaming in your bed

The three lines on your wrist now faded into two

Sapnap came rushing in holding you lose to him

You tried not to but you cried a little

This was your first time loosing a life..

And you didn’t even mean too!

“Your never fucking leaving me again.”

Karl came in with Quackity following after

Karl just like snatched you away from sapnap and just held you

That man was ready to go back in time and reverse that from ever happening

Trust me he will if you ever loose another life

So after that everyone kept a close eye on you

That was until one day you were with your dad

You both were at your old house just chilling around

Before he handed you two velvet boxes

You were in awe of the two rings that sat in them

Who the fuck paid for these??

“I’m going to purpose.”

You almost dropped the boxes

“What?”

Sapnap just kept smiling

“You really like em huh” “Yeah flame, I love them.”

So you just hugged him

Internally freaking the fuck out

What would this mean???

Three dads? What if they wanted another child! Oh hell no

So you all stood in el rapids

Candles were spread around the top of the grassy hill

There were flowers blooming from every direction and lanterns set afloat

It looked mystical

You watched as sapnap got down on one knee

Karl was in shock, tears streaming down his eyes

Quackity looked love struck, looking into sapnaps eyes with total adoration

So when they said yes your dad called you and the other two just hugged you

“I’m guessing they said yes” you laughed

“Yeah they did!”

You couldn’t help but be happy

Your dad finally found some happiness

Even tho life was going to shit

If you won’t be there

He’ll have them

𝐋𝗺𝐚𝐧𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐠𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐡𝐞𝗺

Oh wait shit did someone spot tommy?

There was supposed to be a festival today

So you went to go check it out

Maybe throw a ball at the furry

“Go fetch!” You shouted at fundy

Yeah he was not happy and just threw you the finger

“Hey N/n is Dream coming?”

You were excited that Tubbo was actually talking to you again

“Huh? Oh yeah I think” “Great thanks”

And back to the disappointment

So you walked over to get a pretzel or some shit

And then heard everyone making a commotion

There he was, Dream walking in (angry) with full netherite armor

Damn dude respect some tradition

“Tommy blew up the fucking community house”

Did someone say tommy?

Oh you were ready to kill that bastard

Hell if Dream didn’t you most definitely will

So you followed everyone to the community house

Yeah you were ready to fucking cry

One of your homes, the place you’d always confide in since you were little

Where dream and George both helped raise you

Now blown to shreds

“What the fuck”

They were talking about Tubbo giving up the discs

Oh we are not going through that shit all over again

And this time the odds are most definitely not in your favor

Then tommy appeared half invisible

“YOU FUCKING DICKHEAD I THOUGHT YOU DIED YOU FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT”

You litterly stabbed him, having to be held back by Quackity

“Alright hot shot, lets let them have their argument”

Tommy sent you an apologetic look already on the verge of tears

“Tubbo your not seriously considering this”

Then it hit everyone

“The discs were worth more then you ever were!”

Oh yeah we’re you already pissed off at tommy?

Yeah

And he just made it worse

“WHAT THE HELL DID YOU SAY TO TUBBO YOU SHIT HEAD”

Yeah you didn’t take pretending to be dead very lightly

Oh shit why was techno there

never mind, Lmanburg will be gone by tomorrow

No point killing tommy yet

Whos side were you on?

Neither. You litterly went into that battle feild and killed some shit

That was until multiple pieces of tnt landed ontop of your head

And that’s where you lost your second life

Shit

𝐘/𝐧 𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐰 𝐮𝐩 ♡︎♡︎♥︎ ⚠︎︎ᴏɴᴇ ʟɪғᴇ ʀᴇᴍᴀɪɴɪɴɢ

𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐬𝗼𝐧

This time when you won’t up it didn’t feel as bad

But you still screamed

A rush of a heartburn and scars employed on your body

The second line now faded into one

Shit

You were only 16-17 and on one life??

Die young the better

You waited out in your bed until the end of the fight

Death alerts and messages drowning out your communicator

But you had no energy what so ever

Until it all went quiet

You tried your damn best to get out of bed and walked to the damaged Lmanburg

There were people crying

Others were severely hurt

Then there were those who were perfectly fine

The whole place was a crater

Lmanburg.. the place of agony and depths of your pain

Now it’s finally gone

What the hell are you gonna do now?

Quackity spotted you calling out for Sapnap

You felt like you were gonna be crushed under their hold

“I’m gonna fucking kill dream.” You heard Quackity mutter

Sapnap felt like a bad father

Who lets their kids die twice?

(Cough cough Wilbur and dream)

Then suddenly things switched around

You were walking around with a bloodied nose and black eyed Tommy

Yeah you did a number on him

But it’s okay since he was your best friend

And there was a sign inside his house

“Wednesday you and Tubbo. Bring no one or anything, lets settle this once and for all”

The final disc war

“Tommy you can’t go” “I’m going N/n, he has my discs.”

So you like cried a little bit lined up on the prime path

Giving the two probably the last hugs they’ll ever get

Prime you really didn’t want to loose them

So you ran straight to church prime

Litterly begging Master Oolong that they won’t die

“Please please please spare them. Pogchamp.”

(Please this is all jokes and old references don’t cancel me)

You got a blast message from punz on your comms with cords

“Come here. bring your best armor”

So you did so running to the nearest ender chest

If walking means saving tommy and Tubbo, it’s somewhat worth it

Sapnap made sure you didn’t leave his side as you traveled around the nether

even tho you could literally swim in the lava

So just to piss him off

You jumped in

The sigh of relief this man

Yeah he’s gotten a little more paranoid for you

But it’s okay since it’s in love

You looked around the weird black stone room

There were two giant photos of the discs

And everything was made out of the same material

No design what so ever

Tommy and Tubbo ran to you like you were gonna protect them

“Dream why” you asked as he was incased in the blocks

Down on his last life

Just like you

‘I’m sorry’ he mouthed to you

Why was he apologizing to you?

Hasn’t he hurt everyone here

You looked around the different items

Tracing the outline of the item frames

Gasping in shock as you a cage with your name on it next to badboyhalo

“Tell em what you told me! How you blew up the community house!”

Your neck spun around faster then an owl doing that 360 thing

You picked up your ace seriously read to slash his head off

“Wait wait! Lets put him in the prison.”

So they took him off

And it pained you to see it

You trusted that man for a very long time

Nothing stays the same on the Dream Smp

•⊱✿•✿⊰•⊱✿•✿⊰•⊱✿•✿⊰•⊱✿•✿⊰•⊱✿•✿⊰

TUMBLR WOULDNT LET ME WRITE MORE KMS. So yes I’m sorry but there will have to be a part FOUR. I just wanted to finish this-

As always! Ask or request anything and ask if you want to be on a tag list :))

#sapnaps child #sapnap x reader #sapnap x y/n #child reader #dream smp x y/n #dream smp x reader #mcyt #mcyt x y/n #mcyt x reader #quackity x reader #karl jacobs x y/n #karl jacobs x reader #tommy innit x reader #tubbo x reader #dream x reader #dream smp #lmanburg #lmanhole

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danniburgh · 3 years

Text

Sins of the Flesh (priest!Dave York x f!reader)

Pairing: priest!Dave York x f!reader

Summary: His mind shouldn’t be on the new catechesis teacher as he cleaned the chalice after handing communion. His thoughts shouldn’t be on the young girl he knew for so long as he blessed the congregation and finished mass.

But you were different now. Something in you had changed. “Lord, have mercy on me.”

Word count: +10.9k

Warnings: religion! catholic religion to be precise, a lot A LOT of religious references and undertones (shot every time you find one lmao), age gap (around 15 years, reader is legal), smut, unprotected p in v, oral sex, breaking of celibacy vows!, catholic guilt, me making divine metaphors... i think thats it.

A/N: first of all this is all @asta-lily’s fault, she asked why no one had turned this man into a priest and i said “ok ill do it” so i did it, she is to blame. also i wanna say thanks to the pocket wives that encouraged this creation, sorry my loves, this isnt as slutty as yall thought lmao, and thanks to @alliterative-albatross who gave me all the bible verses that shaped this story as well. and i wanna thank the creator of this playlist that i listened over and over while writing this, and yeah, sorry for this monstrosity, love you <3

Masterlist // Read on ao3 // ko-fi

comments and reblogs are eternally appreciated 💓

moodboard by @asta-lily

“So whoever knows the right thing to do and fails to do it, for him it is sin.”–James 4:12.

Sunday 1.

Like a piece in a puzzle.

That’s how you fit in.

There, sitting in the middle of a ten people polished wood bench, eyes on the four feet tall crucified Jesus on the wall above the altar, ready for the first sermon you were to hear after coming back home.

Home. That was the name.

That church felt like home.

You were enjoying sitting there, among the children you met a couple of hours earlier when you were introduced to them as their new catechesis teacher, breathing in and out the myrrh incense burning and invading the navel and your lungs, filling them with new energy, getting them ready to feel the love that you were sure was about to pour over you.

You heard your name behind you and you turned around to see Mrs. Stevens, one of your mother’s friends waving at you from two rows behind.

“Hi, honey!” she smiled at you and immediately you reciprocated “I heard you were in town, are you staying this time?”

You drowned a chuckle inside your chest and bit your lip, nodding. Just realizing you even had missed the venomous messages hidden behind the kind words mouthed by old catholic moms.

“Yes, Mrs. Stevens, I’m staying this time.” you replied, the woman lifted her hand a bit to the sky and you smirked to her.

“God bless, I bet your mom is delighted you’re here!” she muttered “I know she missed you terribly all those years you were in that school.”

“It’s called college, Mrs. Stevens,” you reminded the woman, and she rolled her eyes, making you chuckle softly again “but do not worry for my mama anymore, I graduated, I’m staying for good.” you told her, amused at the way she acted as if you staying at home was some godsend blessing.

The organ began to play on the upper balcony behind everyone and you saw two altar boys, carbon copy of each other, almost rushing their way to the altar, and behind them… Father Dave.

You smiled softly at the sight of him as he walked solemnly to the altar, his green chasuble flowing with the air and the movement, there was a thought you had all those years you were away from home because of school, always coming back to Father Dave York: the young priest that decided to stay in the first congregation he was sent to, the one that became a pillar to the community, the holy man that held the direct link to God and that gave you your first communion, the one you missed when you went to attend mass at the church near campus because no one gave the sermons like he did. For some reason, whenever you least expected, you thought of him.

You saw him putting his bible on top of the pressed cloth over the altar, kneel and kiss the center of it and cross himself. And then, after he closed his eyes and muttered a prayer to himself and to God, he opened his deep brown eyes and he looked at you.

“Let us pray.”

Your mouth dried when his deep timbered voice, with the help of a small microphone on his altar, wrapped the entire navel and you with it, he looked at you as he cleared his throat and he opened his arms to the sky, breaking eye contact with you.

“Lord, have mercy.” he murmured, and the congregation replied to his prayer as you struggled to find the air that had escaped your lungs.

As Father Dave guided the congregation through the sermon and through the prayers, all you could see was him.

In some way, there was something different about him you hadn’t noticed the last time you were there; you didn’t know if it was something about his deep voice as he recited the credo by muscle memory, the way he walked from one side of the sanctuarium to the other as he talked about the scripture or the way his hands wrapped around the chalice when one of the altar boys handed it to him as the organ echoed all around the navel, announcing the communion.

You stood up and walked to the back of the line and sighed as he lifted the wafer to the sky, and your eyes closed by themselves when he lifted the chalice and took a sip from the sacramental wine and locked your eyes on him as the line moved.

As soon as you were in front of him your lips parted and he smiled at you softly.

“The body of Christ.” he murmured, his deep brown eyes on yours as they filled with tears.

“Amen” and you opened your mouth.

He put the wined wafer between your lips and his thumb brushed with your chin, making your skin burn as you brought it inside of your mouth with your tongue and forced yourself to walk away from him.

As you returned to your seat with the gold cross that hung from your neck between your fingers and kneeled to pray for the forgiving of your sins, all you could think of was brown, deep eyes, and a soft, brief touch on your chin that burned more than the wax of a burning taper.

Dave felt it.

The way you looked at him throughout the entire service.

And it made him feel different.

When you rose from your seat to walk to the communion line, he saw the way your body moved, almost as if you were floating instead of walking.

He knew you were back, and his heart was happy you were finally home.

But he didn’t expect to see you so changed.

And he didn’t expect the way your eyes had made him feel.

Then you were in front of him, and he smiled because he remembered the first time he handed the body of Christ to you, years and years before.

And your eyes filled with tears as his breath hitched when your lips parted for him as he fed you the sacred soul of the savior.

God, have mercy.

His mind shouldn’t be on the new catechesis teacher as he cleaned the chalice after handing communion. His thoughts shouldn’t be on the young girl he knew for so long as he blessed the congregation and finished mass.

But you were different now. Something in you had changed.

Lord, have mercy on me. He thought as he entered the sacristy.

“Whoever conceals his transgressions will not prosper, but he who confesses and forsakes them will obtain mercy.”–Proverbs 28:13.

Sunday 2.

“Forgive me, father, for I have sinned.” Dave heard your voice next to him and felt the air leave from his lungs. Not you, please God, not you.

You had been avoiding Father Dave for almost the entire week.

And you felt guilty about it.

You couldn’t even look at him in the eyes and not think about those dreams you were having about him.

If God was all love and perfection, why was he tempting you with dreams of Father Dave, his own servant, touching you in places you got shivers from, warming your body with his own, putting his mouth on your skin as you repeated his name like it was the sanctus?

Holy, holy, holy.

Why was God putting inside your head the sins of the flesh you had already asked forgiveness for? Why was he making you desire a forbidden man? A man that was not to be perceived as a man but as the representation of him on earth.

That morning, when you walked into the church to impart the catechesis class, you saw Jesus on the cross and you saw him look at you. And you knew he knew.

All omnipresent, all omniscient, all omnipotent.

You couldn’t stop thinking about him.

Almighty God why were you thinking about him so much?

And the resolution in your mind was asking for forgiveness, you needed to pay penitence for those thoughts you knew you did.

But were you really about to confess to the man you had been dreaming about that he was invading your every thought?

“It has been two weeks since my last confession.” you mumbled, playing with your cross over your neck, Dave breathed in deeply and intertwined his hands on his lap.

“What are your sins?” he asked, closing his eyes as he remembered his own.

Dave was always a man of faith. It was in him from birth. He had been taught and trained to not fall into any temptations and so far his life had been devoted and dedicated to God and only to God.

But your eyes and the way you saw him, and the way your eyes made him feel when they locked on his, had him spiraling down into decadence.

Sometimes, dedicating his life to the word of the Lord made him forget he was still a human, he was still a man.

He had needs.

And he was alright before your eyes. Before your holy eyes were on him.

He had dreamed of them; he had thought of them; he had imagined them when he was in the limbo between sleep and awakeness.

He had dreamed of your lips, of your lips on his skin, he had thought of those lips that just looked like they needed someone to wet them and bring them back to life; he had imagined those lips of yours in places of his body he swore never to use.

He had prayed for them to disappear; he had begged to his God to erase those thoughts of his mind and free them from the temptation that was incarnated in you, in your body, in your eyes that denied to see him when you were in the same room, in your hands as you moved them to teach the children, in your legs trapped in the tight denim of your jeans, in your lips as you smiled to everyone but him, in your entire being, just by existing.

But they had increased, like a tamed flame sprayed with gasoline. He had a fire in his chest, one that was spreading through him as he was closer to you.

He needed them gone; he had sworn to never look at a woman as an object of desire; he had sworn on his life and he had vowed his commitment.

But you were there, kneeling next to him, separated by the thinnest patterned panel, holding the matches and the fuel.

“I’ve been having… improper thoughts, father,” you whispered, closing your eyes and left your necklace alone, clutching your hands together as tight as you could, you felt the aura change and the air grow thicker between him and you, “about a man.”

Dave opened his eyes at your confession and frowned. A man?

He knew you could tell him whatever you wanted; he knew he wasn’t allowed to ask in for details; he knew he was only there functioning as a link for you to get absolved from your sins and you were a young woman granted of free will and enough time to ask for absolution but he wanted to know; he needed to know who that man was.

“He is ol–older than me,” he heard you mumble and his hands tightened their grip on each other “and I can’t have him, father, I–I’ve been having these thoughts about a forbidden man.”

Dave’s mind went reeling, and he didn’t understand why. He didn’t like to assume about the life of his congregation members, he never did, but you were talking to him, after he had been dreaming about you for days, after you two shared something about desiring another man. And he was angry. He wanted to know who. He wanted to know who was keeping your mind the same way you were keeping his.

“He keeps me up at night, thinking of him, that is,” you whispered “I’ve–Jesus,” you let out the air of your lungs and Dave breathed in deeply once more “I’ve touched myself thinking of him.” you said under your breath and Dave felt his chest tug and turn.

“Does this man… know what he is causing in you?” he muttered with a frown and heard you sigh.

“No, I don’t want him to.”

“Alright, child,” he replied after a few seconds, and made a grimace of disgust at the pet name. It felt wrong, and he felt dirty with the word on his mouth, “do you repent these sins?”

“Yes, father, I do.” you closed your eyes at his words and wanted, for once, to be brave and tell him he was the one roaming around your mind. But it wasn’t fair.

“Please, recite in silence the act of contrition,” he muttered to you and you obeyed, feeling your eyes fill with tears.

As he waited for you to finish, he did the same on his side of the confession box

I’m choosing to sin and failing to do good.

“Amen.” you said, and he murmured the word to the ceiling.

“I think the word you do for the church,” he started, and you wrinkled your nose at the thought of him knowing it was you “the devotion you have, and how you repent, you don’t need to pay penance,” he muttered separating his hands and putting two fingers on the edge of the patterned panel that separated the two of you “through the ministry of the church,” your breath hitched as he whispered the words to you, and you saw with teary eyes the shadow of his fingers on the panel “man God give you pardon and peace,” you bit your lip and unclutched your hands, lifting your fingers and pressing it to his as two heavy tears fell from your eyes.

Dave felt the pressure of your touch and felt his hand tremble.

“And I ab–absolve you from your sin.” he said under his breath, pressing back.

“Thank you, father.” you whispered, not moving your fingers. You could feel the warmth of his through it and for a few seconds, you could also feel his eyes on your face.

Dave was the one to break the contact first. Absentmindedly brushing his fingers on his stole as he saw the shadow of you move and get out of the confession box.

He sat there, thankful you were the only one that morning and thinking about what you had told him.

A man of God, a man of hope. He had hoped, even if it was a sin and even if it was forbidden by pure creed and vow, that you were feeling the same as he was.

For a moment, he wondered about those thoughts… Were you thinking about that lucky old man touching you? Were you thinking about that man kissing you? What did that man look like? He wanted to be that man; he wanted to be the one whose touch you desired; he wanted to be that man you thought of as you sneaked your hand inside your underwear at night and brought yourself to pleasure. He wanted to be the one whose kiss you yearned for as your sex ached for attention; he wanted to be the one whose fingers you imagined as your own were buried deep inside you.

He fisted the flesh of his thigh over his dress pants and forced himself to stop thinking of you like that.

Dave stayed inside the confession box for twenty minutes more, praying for forgiveness, as he had done every night since you had been back.

At service, he saw you further back on the benches and he tried not to sneak glances at you as you sat there with your precious eyes on the crucifix above him, avoiding him at all costs.

And at communion, he tried not to brush your soft skin with his fingers as he fed you the wined wafer, failing when his knuckle brushed your cheek, his chest deflating when he noticed the way your face quirked in pain when you muttered Amen at him. Dave tried not to make anything of the fact that you kneeled more time than anyone else on the congregation after receiving the communion.

And when the service was over and he was alone in the sacristy, he tried and failed to not think about your skin, your eyes, your hands and your lips all over his neglected body.

That sunday night Father Dave masturbated in the shower thinking about you with your fingers deep inside you as his mind imagined it was him you thought of when you touched yourself in the darkness of the night and prayed for forgiveness.

He shouldn’t be thinking about you like that.

“Beloved, I urge you as sojourners and exiles to abstain from the passions of the flesh, which wage war against your soul.”–1 Peter 2:11.

Sunday 3.

“Father, sh–shit,” you bit your lip to stop yourself from moaning as your pointer and middle fingers circled your wet clit under the covers of your bed, your legs spread open, the soft cotton of the sheets grazing softly at your inner thighs as you imagined your fingers being one of Father Dave’s, as you imagined him next to you, with his arm above your head as he whispered sweet nothings in your ear and nibbled at your neck while his other hand played your clit like a master pianist. You imagined the hardness of his erection pressing patiently on the skin of your hip, wetting it with pre-semen, making your body burn with the feeling of his warm naked body beside you.

As your other hand played with your nipple you imagined his eyes taking you in, you imagined his lips on your skin, were they soft? you bet they were, and you bet as well his hand would be surprisingly rough for a priest.

“Jesus, fu–fuck.” the knot inside your lower belly exploded with the thought of him and his hand and his body and his lips and his priesthood and you came with a silent scream that made your ears ring for a few seconds and your legs tremble on the bed.

As you hazed out, ready to fall asleep again before your alarm went off to go to work at the church, you felt that familiar guilt cripple inside you and settle in your chest, warming up and leaning against your heart.

Dave was panting, he fisted his hand as he leaned on the tiled wall of his shower and his other hand moved desperately on his cock. The water was still warm, and he closed his eyes shut as he imagined it was your hand on him, giving him the pleasure he was seeking, as he imagined you were behind him, your lips brushing against the wet skin of his back, your free hand around his chest, gliding softly at his skin, making him whimper with your touch.

It was so early for him to be so hot over you again; it wasn’t good for him to give into these desires he had and had been praying so hard and so much to get rid of.

He didn't want to keep doing it and he surely didn’t feel good after it, but his body ached for you, his chest turned every time he thought about you, every time he saw you around the church, he felt the deepest, hottest desire for you and your hands and your body and he just couldn’t help it.

His hand gripped and pumped as fast as he could and he came with a silent groan, opening his eyes as he finished milking every drop of his seed and watched it mix with the shower water and go down the drain. Along with the decency and morality that was left inside him.

You heard your name being said, and you turned around as you finished picking up your things from the small desk you used to teach the catechism; you saw Mrs. Vega, the church custodian, a small, old lady that had known you forever, walking towards you.

“I’m sorry dear, but I want to ask you for something.” she said when you smiled at her.

“Of course, Mrs. Vega, what is it?” you put your small book inside your bag and hung it from your shoulders.

“You see, the little twins that help Father Dave are sick today,” you frowned at the mention of Father’s Dave name but let out a sad sigh at her statement, “and they can’t come help with the service, you’re the youngest of the teachers, could you do it?”

You raised your eyebrows in surprise and felt your stomach churn inside you at the thought of standing next to the altar for a whole service.

“Me?” you asked, your voice in a high pitch as Mrs. Vega reached for your arm and tugged you to walk out of the chapel and into the navel of the church.

“Yes, dear, remember only the youngest get to do it.” she obviated, pulling you with her to the transept and up two steps to the sanctuarium “you only need to hand him the communion things and the holy water, I will prepare everything for you.”

“Why don’t you do it?” you asked in a whisper, not daring to take a step further closer to the altar. Mrs. Vega turned to look at you, and she narrowed her eyes.

“Since when are you shy, girl?” she asked with a teasing smile “I remember you singing in that kiddie choir we used to have and doing it terribly,” you chuckled at the memory and bit your lip “it’s only until the boys get that bug they got out of them.” she palmed your arm, and you breathed in deeply.

You looked up at the crucified Jesus above the altar and silently begged him for anticipated forgiveness.

Dave almost cursed when he saw you standing next to the altar as he walked across the navel.

The thought of who would replace Bobby and Chris on their altar duties didn’t even cross his mind as he was more worried about praying for the boys and sending them some sweets and pleading for the cleansing of his soul after the incident on his shower earlier that morning.

As he stepped up to the sanctuarium your eyes locked on his and he noticed you lips parting when he nodded his chin once at you, he noticed the way you swallowed as you nodded back and for a brief second, his imagination ran wild and made him believe you felt the same way as he did about you.

Even if it was the wrongest thing to think about.

It was like torture.

An hour of torture.

You got to see him kneel behind the altar and kiss the white pressed cloth softly as he stood, as you wanted and wished to be the altar’s cloth he pressed his plump lips on, he crossed himself and you mimicked his movements. And for a brief fraction of a second, as he opened his arms to the sky, you saw him looking at you out of the corner of his eye. And his eyes burned in your skin, they made you feel like your chest was aflame.

The communion time arrived, and he turned to you as you grabbed the chalice with the wine, his eyes locked with yours and you felt them weigh heavy on your body.

Dave couldn't concentrate, he felt on his side the way you were looking at him. It was heavily distracting for him to have you there, in his space, so close to him.

His hands brushed yours when he took the chalice from you and he stood there for less than a second, his fingers on yours. His soft touch and warm skin made your lips tremble with the emotion that touching him gave you. You felt a shiver go up and down your spine and the small hairs of your nape rose as his hands trapped yours.

You caught your lip between your teeth as he broke the contact and you knew he noticed; he looked at your lip as you bit it, and you blushed under his and God’s gaze.

You watched him and he felt you observing him as he prepared the wafers and wined them inside the chalice.

Your throat knotted when he lifted the cup to the sky and you felt your mouth dry as he brought the rim to his lip and his neck strained while he took a sip of the sacramental wine.

Because of the closeness you could see the movement of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed the wine, you noticed a small drop of the crimson red liquid escape from his lips and the way he trapped it with his tongue settled deep inside your belly and leaked through your sex.

The pain of the greatest guilt you’ve ever felt in your short life appeared again and clawed its way inside your chest and to its now usual spot right next to your heart, you were struggling to keep your thoughts at bay; you were looking at Father Dave, right in front of you, doing what he dedicated his life to, and you were imagining him using his hands on your body instead of handling the instruments of the church.

Would he touch you like that? would he treat you with the same delicacy as he treated the body of Christ? would he caress you as softly as he did the chalice? would his mouth be warmed with your taste as it was by the wine he drank?

Dave turned to you and he saw you clutching your hands together, you walked towards him slowly, and he couldn’t stop thinking about the way you moved, almost as if air went through you, as if instead of giving steps your feet barely touched the floor because you were floating.

Everything slowed down, the music of the organ in the balcony, the prayers of the congregation, even the way he moved slowed down so he could focus on your face; on your sweet eyes, those that had brought into him the feeling of humanity, on your soft skin that had scorched his hand when he dared brushed his fingers on it, on your lips, those lips that he couldn’t pray out of his head.

He lifted his hand with the wined wafer, and even the way those holy lips of yours parted was slowed down.

Your eyes connected with his and Dave felt it in his body, deep inside his stomach, the temptation, the whispers of his mortal body as it reacted to your actions; he put the wafer between your lips delicately and pushed it inside your mouth, and then, as if by the grace of God in the heavens, you closed your mouth while he did it, and your lips wrapped softly around the pad of his finger as he pulled them away from you.

And just like that, the world started moving at its usual pace.

His skin tasted sweet. And you spent the rest of the service thinking about what other parts of him would taste like that.

Would his neck taste the same if you kissed it? would his chest feel like that if you nibbled on it? would his lips be that warm or would they be warmer?

Dave’s finger was burning.

He wanted to chop it off his hand just to stop feeling that flesh-eating guilt of enjoying your lips, your soft, warm lips around it, touching his skin, wetting it with the slick of your mouth.

After the service ended and Dave blessed the congregation, he saw you rush to the exit and he felt the sting of the guilt and the sadness. He wanted to talk to you and offer his apologies before you went home.

Sunday 4.

You weren’t there.

And Dave missed your eyes on him.

“I appeal to you therefore, brothers, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship.”–Romans 12:1.

Sunday 5.

As soon as you walked into the church you felt the eyes of all omnipresent beings on your body. As if the desire that burned deep inside your body left marks all over your skin, that could be visible for all those that looked carefully enough.

You heard your name behind you and jumped slightly, startled. You turned around and felt your blood fall to your feet.

“Father Dave,” you muttered, more to help yourself acknowledge the fact that there he was, standing in front of you, out of habit, his white tab collar was the only piece of his attire that hinted the fact that he was a priest. You tried to control your body as you felt instantly that flame inside your chest beginning to spread.

“You weren’t here last week,” he said, hesitating to step closer to you “are you okay?”

You nodded a few times and bit your lip to stop it from trembling.

“Are you sure?” Father Dave asked, and you dropped your eyes to the floor and saw him give a couple of steps towards you, your breath hitched and your entire body began to shiver when you felt his hand on your arm “I’m sorry.” he whispered.

“What?” you looked up to see him and you could notice his pained quirk, his brow furrowed, his eyes narrowed and his lips… those lips you had spent all but two weeks imagining printing themselves and making marks on your skin, on a sad, downwards line.

“Can I please talk to you?” he said again in a whisper and you opened your mouth to reply, but only air came out, “please?”

His deep brown eyes were on yours and you felt your chest turn by the feeling of having him so close. You nodded, and he turned to the sides, as if he was making sure there was no one there, and guided you to the sacristy.

“What are you doing?” you asked, a bit altered when he opened the door and let you in first, followed you and closed the door behind him.

“I just needed to be alone with you for a minute,” he clarified, you let your eyes wander around the small space where he got ready every day for the services instead of letting them settle on him, because you knew being that close to him wouldn’t help your situation at all “I wanted to apologize.”

You frowned and looked at him. He had his back almost glued to the door and his hands together, his thumbs fidgeting with each other.

“Apologize for what?” you muttered, and he sighed.

“I’m–I make you uncomfortable, and I’m sorry.”

Dave felt stupid telling you that, but it was his truth; he spent every free moment of his days when you weren’t near him thinking maybe it was because of him. It would make sense, that you didn’t want to be there because you didn’t like his closeness, that you didn’t want to be there because he was taking advantage of his position to steal glances and give furtive touches.

He understood, but you were an excellent woman, devoted and committed to the congregation, and he knew he needed to stop or you would leave and he would never see you again. And he couldn’t have that.

“You aren–you…” you babbled, and then the look he gave you made you lose your words.

His eyes were all over you. And you could feel them on your skin, how they took you in, how they navigated through your body and every inch of you was immediately on fire.

Then he looked at your face and you swore you could see in his brown eyes the deepest form of devotion there was. And your mouth was agape and your eyes filled with tears and suddenly he was in front of you and his hands were orbiting your face.

“Can I touch you?” he said, and you nodded.

He cupped your face, and you felt his warm, rough hands scorching your skin as you closed your eyes. His warmth started mixing with your own and you could feel him inside you already. It was as if everything you needed in life was already there.

“You don’t make me uncomfortable,” you whispered, closing your eyes as his fingers started caressing the skin of your face, tracing your features “I swear you don’t”

Dave let out a sigh when his thumb traced the edge of your lips and he so wanted to lean down and take them in his. There had been so long since he last kissed someone and he, for a split second, forgot everything about him and the only thought in his mind was you.

“I don’t?” he asked under his breath as a tear rolled down your cheek and he brushed it off with his knuckles, you shook your head and opened your eyes and he felt his heart fill with the purest love he had ever felt in his life “you swear?” you curled your lips up and nodded twice.

“Can I tell you something?” you muttered, looking up at him and losing yourself in the depths of his brown eyes.

“Always.”

You allowed your hands to slide to his shoulders and you let out a relieved sigh. They fit perfectly.

“Yo–you are…” he nodded his chin, his hands still cupping your face softly as his eyes studied your face, you let out a trembling sigh and grabbed as much courage as you had left within you “you are the man I’ve been thinking of all this time.”

Dave widened his eyes and the movements of his hands stopped, he looked at you, searching for any hint of mischief or lie, searching for something that could tell him you were lying, that you were playing with him. But there was none.

“That’s why I wasn’t here last week,” he heard you say as he felt his heart burn with the flames of his desire and love “I was embarrassed after what happened at the communion.”

You looked at him for a second, waiting for the rejection, waiting for him to tell you what you already know, that he can’t for you what you wanted him to be, that he can’t give you what you wanted as his duty was with God and not with the mortals, let alone with a woman.

Father Dave had resigned to the pleasures of the mundane world; you knew that, but you also knew he deserved to know, even if nothing would happen.

“Am I?” he asked you, bewildered after such confession, you nodded and moved your hands to cup his face, a gesture that made him close his eyes. You wondered when was the last time, if ever, he had been touched like that “we can’t” he replied, opening his eyes and leaning in to you.

You could feel his breathing mixing with yours as the implications of his words fell on you.

“We can’t” he repeated, pushing his forehead to yours as you trembled under his touch.

“You want to?” you asked him and Dave asked for guidance in his mind as you started crying and wetting his hands. He nodded, and you sobbed.

“I can’t” he whispered, and you shook your head as he looked at you pouring your feelings from your eyes.

“Kiss me.” you pleaded, looking into his brown, deep eyes. Making him frown.

“What?”

“If you’re not gonna give me anything, at least kiss me.”

His face quirked from confusion to pain in an instant, and you gripped the hold on his face.

“Please, Dave.”

Dave sighed at the way you whispered his name without calling him a father, and deep inside him he was grateful. With you he didn’t feel like a man of god, with you, letting him touch you and touching him back, he only felt like a man. Like the man he never got the chance to be.

“I–I” he started, and you shook your head. Dave looked into your eyes and all the air he had stored in his lungs left his body in a hurry, you were the most precious being he had ever seen, and for a second, he wanted nothing but to make worth the fact he had you in his hands “shit.” he said under his breath.

Dave brought your face up to him and printed his lips on yours, stealing the little air and the close to no coherence you still had in you. You let out a soft moan out of the surprise and out of the feeling of your entire body warming up to his temperature.

His lips were as soft and as wars and better than you had imagined, they were a bit dry and hesitant on yours, but the contact of them with yours made you feel like you were floating away from the realm of the living.

Dave didn’t want to stop kissing you. He didn’t remember the last time he had kissed a woman, and in that moment he wasn’t kissing any woman he was kissing you; the precious being that had been in his mind for weeks and that had never left.

Unsure of his movements, he let you take control of the contact and soon enough you were sliding the tip of your tongue along the seam of his lips, Dave let out a surprised grunt and opened his mouth slightly of you, and you took his lower lip with your mouth. And he let you kiss him all you wanted, enjoying the contact of your slow, wet, warm lips on his less experienced ones until he was sure his lungs were screaming from the lack of air.

When he broke the kiss, he left a small one on your forehead and pressed his lips there and you closed your eyes to feel him settle inside you

“I’m sorry.” you whispered to his neck. And he nodded slightly.

“Me too.”

“But I say to you that everyone who looks at a woman with lustful intent has already committed adultery with her in his heart.”–Matthew 5:28.

Sunday 6.

Your knuckles grazed softly with the sacristy door and you heard the muffled noise of the latch and the door opened.

“Hi,” you smiled and Dave looked at you up and down “got your text.”

“Come in.” he motioned his hand for you to hurry and you turned your head to both sides and walked into the sacristy, closed the door behind you and slid the latch.

Immediately after the door was locked, you felt his hands on your waist and his chin on your shoulder.

“This is why you texted me?” you teased and he moved to let a kiss on your jaw.

“I missed you.” he muttered and turned your body around for you to face him.

“You didn’t.” you smiled at him and wrapped your hands around his neck, grateful for the apparently deliberate choice of him to take off his tab collar.

“Yes, I did, I missed you all day.” Dave leaned towards you and took your lips in his, already knowing, after less than a week’s practice, how you loved being kissed.

His lips were as warm as they always were, his tongue barely present if not just to taste the sweetness of your lipstick, his hands always steady on your waist, and at the end, his forehead on yours, just taking in your breaths with his.

“Mass starts soon.” you said, and he nodded, sliding his hands to your middle back to wrap you closer to him.

“I know.” he left another brief kiss on your lips.

“You gotta get dressed.” you murmured against his lips.

“I know.” he muttered back and kissed you again.

“Want me to help?” you asked under your breath, just for him, as if you saying it as low as you could would stop God from listening.

“Yes, I would love that.” Dave replied and gave into another deep kiss that stole both your breath and made you want to stop the time so you could kiss until your lips fused together.

“C’mon you need to get ready.” you broke the kiss and stepped away from him, making him smile. You wandered around the sacristy and found his tab collar. You sighed and took it in your hands.

Dave looked at you and noticed the way you looked at the soft plastic piece, he walked towards you and raised his hand to grab yours. As you felt his hand on yours; you turned your head to look at him and smiled softly, and you moved your hands, raising them to carefully lift the collar of his shirt and clasp the piece around his neck.

“You okay?” he asked in a whisper, you nodded and bit your lip at the sight of him in front of you.

Dave moved and walked to the small table against a wall with a large bowl of water and you gazed at him as he washed his hands and whispered a few words. You leaned onto the wall just looking at him go to a small cabinet near the opposite corner and took a white, folded linen garment, which he unfolded and you recognized as the long robe he used under all his attire.

He slid it off and whispered another prayer again as he let it fall and graze his ankles. His eyes went to you and you smiled at him, he next grabbed a green square that you also recognized and you walked to him and took it out of his hands.

“Let me do it” you whispered, and he nodded, you unfolded the long stripe that was the stole and found its middle, Dave crouched a bit to help you and you let it fall around his neck over his shoulders.

“Return to me the stole of immortality,” he whispered, looking at your eyes, your throat dried at the deepness of his voice “which I have lost in the sin of my first parent and although I, unworthy,” he continued and took your hand in his “approach thy sacred mystery grant to me everlasting joy.”

You gripped his hands and felt your throat knotting around itself.

“Why are you praying to me?” you asked under your breath. He cupped your chin with one hand and brought you close to his face.

“You’re holy.” he whispered and left a soft kiss on your lips.

“Stop it.” you chastised him and he shook his head, giving you a soft smile that you reciprocated immediately.

You turned to the table and saw a long, golden cord and you took it.

“Not that one.” he muttered, and you frowned.

“Why not?” you saw him taking a deep breath as he took it from your hand and left it back on the table.

“The cincture… it means chastity and continence.” he replied under his breath and you let out all the air of your lungs as he took his chasuble and put it on without looking at you.

“Dave.” you called, and he lifted a hand to you as he said the last prayer. When he finished, he looked at you and as if he read your mind, he smiled at you and shook his head.

“Don’t,” he whispered, taking you again in his hands and pulling softly so your head rested on his shoulders “don’t apologize please.”

“I need to,” you mumbled against the light fabric of the green chasuble “I’m keeping you from your vow.”

Dave grabbed your shoulders and pulled you away from his body, his hands slid to your face and you gripped his wrists as he brought your face to his.

“You’re not doing anything, my love,” he muttered the last words directly on your lips as he stole a few kisses from your trembling mouth “you’re perfect,” he panted out and you shook your head “I’m doing this because I want to, please understand it,” he kissed you again, a bit more desperately “you’re the most divine creation I’ve ever laid my eyes and hands upon,” he whispered rapidly on your lips “and I want you to be mine.”

You gasped as the words left his mouth, and he gazed at you.

“Dave...” you started, but he didn’t let you finish, he wrapped his arms around you and brought your body to his, tightening the embrace as he thought of the implications of what he just asked.

Dave lifted his eyes to the ceiling and for the first time in years, with you slowly wrapping your arms around his waist, exactly over the place the cincture was supposed to go around, and the sweet aroma of your perfume inundating his senses, he felt really close to heaven.

“I want you to be mine too.” you whispered into his ear, and he smiled, leaving a kiss on top of your head.

“How beautiful and pleasant you are, O loved one, with all your delights!”–Song of Solomon 7:6.

Sunday 7.

You stirred on your seat again, the organ was playing the latest song before Dave would bless the congregation and wrap up the service and you were nervous.

You glanced at the crucified Jesus above him and you felt his eyes on yours; you felt him shove his holy hand on your chest and as the last notes of the song inundated the navel, you felt your throat sting with the green tint of your deep guilt, but at the same time, the rest of your body drown with the red warmth of your love and desire for Dave.

Is it worth it? you heard inside your head and your immediate response was yes.

Eternal damnation in exchange for a few hours of love. It was condemnedly worth it.

The service was over and you stood up with the rest of the congregation; you talked with a few people on your way out of the church and slowly and patiently you waited for everyone to disperse.

You walked around the gardens outside the church and slid between the gate that marked the beginning of Dave’s small house inside the church grounds. You rummaged around your small bag and pulled out the key he had given you earlier and with nervousness and the familiar guilt settled next to your heart; you let yourself into his house.

You turned on the lights. The space wasn’t big, but it wasn’t small and everything around smelled like him. For a priest’s home, the place lacked religious imagery, and you automatically chastised yourself for thinking about his priesthood again.

You sat on the loveseat next to the door as you waited for him and got dragged inside your head again; you talked about doing that throughout the week and you had agreed it was something you both wanted. But your head sent you through an unwanted train of thought and you sat there, thinking about the future. Something you hadn’t talked about.

After all, he would still be a priest and you would still be a young member of his congregation. You could spend time with him and let you love him and let him love you as much as you two wanted, but in the future… what else was there for you?

You could never ask him to leave his habit for you, you could never ask him to leave his life for you, you could never do something like that to him. But you were unsure if something like that had any other path but failure.

The door opened and there he was, unclasping his tab collar and dropping it on the end table as you rose from your seat and walked to him. He smiled at you and his hands found his place on your waist.

“You’re here.” he said, not surprised but relieved.

As he took off his attire in the sacristy and walked to his house from the church, he had a few minutes to think about what he was about to do. He didn’t allow himself to overthink it because if there was something he knew was that he wanted it; he wanted it more than he had wanted anything in his life. He couldn’t explain it even if he tried, but he knew there was something about you that made him feel human, there was something about you that made him feel like he belonged somewhere, maybe the way you talked to him, maybe the way you kissed him, maybe the way you always seemed to understand the moral and spiritual dilemma he was in. He didn’t know, but he knew that he loved you, even if he wasn’t supposed to, even when he wasn’t allowed.

And as he thought of it, love was one of the laws of the God he represented, and he felt it deeply.

“I’m here.” he pulled you to him as you wrapped your arms around his neck and nodded.

“Thank you.” you closed your eyes and bit your lip, shaking your head at him.

You felt his lips on yours as they re-discovered your kisses and his hands roamed to your middle back to press your chest to his.

You were amazed by how fast he had learned how you liked to be touched, how you liked to be kissed and caressed, as if he was just trying to commit to memory everything you ever wanted and he wanted to do it to you to please you.

Dave slid his hands from your back down to your hips and moved you softly to the side, without breaking the kiss he snaked his hands to the back of your thighs and lifted you. You smiled in his mouth and wrapped your legs around his waist as he walked to his bedroom.

When you crossed the doorframe you started leaving small kisses on the skin of his neck and he sat on the edge of his bed with you in his lap, you were already feeling the hardness growing inside his pants and his hands started grazing up and down your thighs as he let you taste his neck how you best pleased.

Dave was in a haze. He understood then the power of physical touch combined with deep love; it enhanced the sensations, the flame inside his chest was burning him from the inside out with a deep desire he was sure he had never felt before, and you were there, moving slowly on his lap as you devoured the skin of his neck and kissed slowly around his jaw.

“Dave,” you whispered as you licked his earlobe and pulled out a shiver from him, he hummed in question “touch me.”

He didn’t hesitate on questioning where, his hands roamed all around your body, they were big and warm and they were rough; you cupped his jaw with both hands and took his lips in yours with a wet, open-mouthed kiss that he followed as his hands snuck inside your shirt and you moaned softly at the feeling of skin to skin.

You moved out of his lap and stood up in front of him, Dave let out a soft whine at the sudden loss of your weight on his body but stopped when you moved his legs open and stood between them.

“Take off my shirt, please.” you told him, not in an order but he obeyed, he grabbed the hem of it and lifted it, you raised your arms and felt his lips on your rib side as you finished taking it off and dropped it on the floor behind you.

Dave put his hands around your torso and licked your skin experimentally, which made you gasp at the feeling of his wet tongue against your skin and he smiled to himself, doing it again and nibbling on the same spot softly.

His hands slid to your waist and without being told to he unbuttoned your jeans and dragged them down slowly, his eyes directly on yours. You smiled at him with your reddened, kiss-swollen lips and he felt your smile settling inside his lower belly, his cock twitching inside his pants.

You put your hands on his shoulders as he helped you out of your shoes and jeans and when you were there, standing in front of him only in your underwear, he swore there wasn’t anything more divine than your body.

You sank on your knees and your hands landed on his thighs, Dave’s throat clutched and his chest turned as you smiled at him and your hands slid to his belt, you raised your eyebrows as if asking for permission and he nodded a few times, leaning backward into his hands to give you space for you to do whatever you wanted to him.

You unbuckled his belt and opened his pants, his breath hitched when your fingers hooked to the hem of both his pants and his boxers, and then he lifted his hips for you to pull them off him. Dave smiled when he saw you bite your lip at the sight of his hard cock resting on his abdomen. It did something unexpected on what he thought was his dead ego, but he loved the way you looked at it.

“Take off your shirt.” you said and again, without it being an order, he obeyed. Unbuttoned it as quickly as he could and slid it off his shoulders as you leaned over his lap and took his erection on your hand, your thumb grazing softly the tip and he threw his head back between his shoulders.

“Oh, my love.” he sighed out as you started pumping slowly and when he closed his eyes, you licked the underside and wrapped your lips around the tip, making him gasp.

You took it slowly, enjoying the taste of his pre-cum as it came out of him, pumping the rest you couldn’t fit inside your mouth with your hand.

Dave forced his eyes open and moved his head down to watch you, he shivered when he found you already looking at him; he moved his hand to your face and with his knuckles caressed your cheek, making you smile with his cock inside your mouth.

For him, looking at you on your knees between his legs was like looking at a sacrosanct painting; your lips around him taking as much of his length as you could, your saliva dripping from his dick to your hand, bobbing your head up and down as your eyes, those holy eyes that never left his, it was a pleasure he never thought he would get in his earthly life.

He felt himself close to cumming, and he pushed your head softly upwards, you rose from your knees and clashed your messy lips onto his and he wrapped his arms around your waist, his large hands roaming around the skin of your back. His fingers played with the back of your bra and he broke the kiss for a few seconds to unhook it and help you slide it off, you smiled when he sighed at the sight of your breasts in front of his face and he pulled you flush against his head, taking a nipple in his mouth.

The warmth of his mouth and the wetness of his tongue around the soft skin of your nipple made you cry out his name softly and arousal gathered between your legs. One of his hands rested on your other boob and kneaded delicately as you fisted his hair in your hand. Dave moved his mouth to your other nipple and lapped at it before trapping it inside his mouth, you pressed his head to your chest and let out a moan when his teeth grazed your nipple as he released it.

“I wanna taste you.” he muttered against your boob and you smiled at him, nodding.

He moved you softly to lie down on the bed; the sheets were cool and soft and he stood on the edge, taking you in again, studying your body.

He leaned down to you and you opened your legs to make space for him; he hovered over your body and kissed you again, softly, as if you were back in time to the first kiss he gave you in the sacristy, as if he wasn’t about to devour your body.

His kisses traveled from your mouth to your neck and your chest, he left one in each nipple, making you laugh, he left a trail of them over your belly and one over your belly button. As he kissed your abdomen and your thighs, you looked at the ceiling and you smiled at whoever was watching.

Dave took the hem of your panties on his fingers and you lifted your hips for him to slip them off you, you lifted your legs and he unhooked them from your ankles, grabbing your calves and opening your legs again. He gulped when he saw your wet, expectant pussy right in front of him and looked at your flushed face. He leaned down and left kisses around your thighs without breaking eye contact.

“Guide me.” he whispered and left a kiss right over the hood of your clit, making you moan.

You nodded once, and he looked at your pussy, opened the lips gently with his fingers and blew on your slick folds, making you shiver. He flattened his tongue and licked from your slit to your clit, tasting your arousal, moaning at the richness of it.

You slid your hand to your clit and looked at him.

“Here.” you mumbled, circling a few times to show him how. He had told you he had sex before his ordination, because he didn’t want to go into his holy orders without having experienced it and wondering for the rest of his life what he had missed, but he said it wasn’t as good as he thought it would be and before you, he thought he would never know. So you had to show him what you wanted and what you liked because his experience wasn’t vast.

Dave did as you showed and you moaned out loud, the pads of his fingers were warmer and bigger than yours and he was handling you so delicately you were already on edge.

He kept licking and circling your clit and then, without a second thought, he moved his fingers away and started circling your clit with his tongue.

“Oh m–my god,” you fisted his hair, pushing his face into your pussy and he pressed your hips onto the mattress, looking at your face with your mouth opened in pleasure and your eyes closed shut “Dave ke–keep doing that baby,” you pleaded and he did it, and started playing the pad of one of his fingers on your slit, making your hips buck slightly he saw you pant and smiled when you slid your free hand to play with your nipple so he added a second one to play with your entrance “inside, put them inside.” you said under your breath and he pushed his fingers slowly inside your cunt, making you let out a long moan of his name, he started pumping and curling his fingers inside as he had imagined you doing it all those weeks ago while touching himself in the shower and closed his eyes to hear you moan his name as he brought you closer and closer to pleasure.

He moved his fingers faster inside of you and hand fisted and pulled his hair as your moans became tamed screams and he thought of them as the most pious symphony that he and only him had the sacred pleasure to hear.

You wrapped a leg around his shoulders as you felt the knot inside your belly explode from his ministrations and you chanted his name over and over as he worked you through your orgasm. You panted for a few seconds and opened your eyes to the sight of Dave licking his fingers clean. You smiled at him and released his hair to motion him to come to you; he hovered over your body again and you put your hand on his nape to bring him to you; you moaned softly at your own taste and you felt it smile on your lips.

“What?” you asked in a whisper.

“Did you like it?” he asked back on your lips, you nodded and cupped his clean-shaven jaw, leaving a deep kiss on his lips.

“I loved it,” he smiled, and you wrapped your legs around his waist and felt his cock brushing lightly against your folds. “make love to me, Dave.”

You saw his smile widen, and it was his turn to nod to you, he kissed you again while his hand worked on aligning himself to you; he slid the tip through your folds and you gasped on his mouth when he found your entrance and started pushing in.

He did it slowly, no rush; he wanted to feel you in every inch of his cock; he wanted you to feel him and every ridge and vein of him as he found his home in you.

You nipped at his lip as he bottomed up and smiled when he stayed there, inside you, enjoying the wait for your body to acclimate to his, you looked into his eyes and you felt it.

You felt how you two fit together like pieces of a puzzle.

As if his body was made for you and your body was made for him.

It felt right.

It felt sacred.

Dave started moving at a calmed pace and you with him, quickly finding a rhythm where your hips moved almost in unison and he thrusted into you deeply every time he moved. He was supporting his weight on one arm next to you while the other gripped your hip and helped you with the tantalizing dance you both were having.

He hid his face in the crook of your neck when your hands moved to his back and you pulled his body down to yours, his chest gliding yours and his hips circling as he thrusted faster into you.

Dave moaned into your neck when you scratched his back as his thrusts became pounds.

“Harder, please, baby, harder.” you whispered into his ear and he listened, driving into you as fast as his body allowed, the noise of his skin clashing with yours and the wetness of you leaking around his cock flooded the room and his moans grew louder and you dug your nails into his skin chanting his name as you got closer and closer to your second release.

“Yo–you’re a goddess,” he muttered into the skin of your neck as his cock grazed your cervix, his hand wrapped around your hips and he lifted your ass for him to thrust deeper, making you moan his name loudly “you’re m–my go–goddess.”

You slid your hands to his ass and fisted his buttcheeks, pushing him further into you.

Dave felt his orgasm closer and closer every time he drove into you and your warm walls started to clench around him with the closeness of your orgasm, he nibbled the skin of your neck and clutched his eyes shut tighter when his body started to stiffen as he pounded into you; he muttered your name a few times like a prayer he never knew he needed to make, and it sounded right, your name in his voice as he drove himself and you to climax, his own name on your sweet voice as you begged him for everything he had in himself, it was all right, it was all correct, there was nothing wrong, how could he had felt so guilty about it when it was the most perfect, most righteous, most sacred, most heavenly action he could do.

You in his arms, your hands on his body, his cock inside your cunt, you wrapped around him begging him to cum inside you, everything about it was all he could have asked for to feel like he was in heaven. He had almost said no to feel it, and he bursted inside you at the same time as you broke in pieces around him, thinking that he would rather live his life with you around him than his afterlife in heaven.

“I love you.” he muttered against the skin of your neck and you opened your eyes after riding the high of your orgasm and looked at the ceiling.

You frowned when you heard his words and when you remembered what he said to you before he came, and as you turned to the side to see him that red warmth you had felt earlier disappeared almost completely and the bright green taint of the deep guilt inside you washed over your body and your soul.

He looked at you and narrowed his eyes. His expression changed as he realized you weren’t going to answer his confession.

“Dave,” you whispered and his face changed, his brow furrowed and you saw his jaw tighten “what did we just do?”

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#dave york #dave york fanfiction #dave york x reader #dave york x you #dave york pit #dave york the equalizer #the equalizer #the equalizer 2 #the equalizer fanfic #Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #Jose Pedro Balmaceda Pascal #pedro pascal characters #priest dave york

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thesmokingguns · 3 years

Text

Not with the band

summary: hi everyone, I wrote this for @ayablackwood . I hope you like it!

A/N: this is my longest oneshot and I hope you all enjoy this! Thank you for Reading. If you want to make a request for a fix either message me or you can request HERE. Thank you!

tag list: @thenobodies-inc , @littlemisscare-all , @ayablackwood @agroupiewhore

Word Count:6102

Izzy POV

The first thing I noticed about her was the big brown eyes. Sad eyes that showed she had lived her life and seen a few things in her time. I had never noticed a girl's eyelashes before but I could see the long black lashes sweeping down, staring at her drink before looking back up almost doing a reset. Maybe she was like me and thought that these parties took a lot out of a person. The constant talking to strangers, faking politeness or interest in a conversation with someone.

I got a reputation for being indifferent, a quiet introspective sort of person who didn't care about others. But that wasn’t who I was; I just found most people were just boring to be around. There are only so many times you can talk about your band before you realize that it’s not your band they care about. Most girls I met just wanted to sleep with me. It wasn’t even that they wanted to sleep with me but that they wanted to sleep with the guitarist from Guns n Roses. And that was fine. I had no problem sleeping with the girls who didn’t require me to put in any effort because I wasn’t going to waste my time trying to woo them.

But as I watched this stranger across the room, I couldn't help but start to think about who she was. I noticed she had a nervous tick of pushing her straight black hair behind her ear when men came up to her and when she was talking to her friends she’d place her hands on their forearms almost whispering secrets into their ears. She played with the tab of her beer can, the one she only sipped a couple times in the hour that I had been watching her. She wasn’t wearing skyrocketing heels or lace dresses. She had on a button up summer dress with a collar and short sleeves. Every once and a whole she’d stuff her hand in a pocket, letting her eyes sweep the room for someone she knew. She looked ready for a church picnic and not the rock and roll party at a beach house that would probably stretch though the entire weekend. She didn’t even seem to notice that she wasn’t all teased up 80’s glam; she was comfortable in her.

I had no idea who she was or who she came with but I couldn’t stop staring at her. She drank beer instead of the usual wine or booze that the girls at these parties consumed and instead of hanging out near a band member she was around other girls. They all seemed to come over to her, leaning close to whisper secrets in her ear, the sly smiles they spread across their faces. How did she know so many people here and I had no idea who she was? Finally, Axl’s girlfriend laced their arms, dragging her over to the couch where Axl and I were both sitting, giving me a chance to get to know her.

“This is Y/N, she’s my best friend. Y/N this is Axl and Izzy.'' When the introduction was done she pulled her down on the couch, our legs touching from the close proximity. I watched her lick her lips, turning to lean close to me so she could talk and have me hear what she was saying. I could smell her shampoo, like lavender, and feel the warmth of her body as she gave me a conspiratory look. It was intoxicating being this close to her and having her overwhelm my senses.

“I’m everyone’s best friend because I’m usually the designated driver.” she joked, the smile breaking out over her face like she was sharing this joke with me. Holy shit, it was like staring into the sun when her smile spread across her face, warming up those sad brown eyes and showing a twinkle of joy.

Hook, line, and sinker. I never reacted to a girl like this before and now this stranger was beside me on the couch and I couldn’t even think of something to say. All I could think about was how soft her hair looked and how much I wanted to wrap my fingers around a silky lock. Or how her nails weren’t painted the fashionable red or the neon colors but this soft pink. Everything about her seemed to stick out or maybe she was just sticking out to me because I was already obsessed with her.

“I’m Izzy.” She gave me a look and I realized that introductions had already been made and I was just making a fool of myself. This is exactly what I get for spacing out in so many conversations with girls. I lost any sort of ability to communicate with someone. “Do you want to get out of here?” Following up my reintroduction of myself with a line that I had used on a bunch of one night stands that I had wanted to stop talking about. It was that instant feeling of regret seeping into me.

“No, I don’t.” She didn’t give me any other explanation, only got up from the couch, headed over to a group of people and blended into them with ease. She hadn't even given me a look when she left.

“You have been staring at Y/N all night and I got her to come and sit down next to you and not even five minutes later you screwed it up. What did you say to her?” the girl on Axl’s lap asked me. I felt like a kid being scolded by my parents and even felt a burning in my cheeks.

“I’ll fix it, don’t worry.” I was standing up, walking across the room to where she was standing. It had been months, maybe years since I went up to a girl and not just let them come up to me. It was like she felt me coming, her head turning, eyes meeting mine and suddenly I was forgetting everything that I had prepared in my mind. Just the way she looked at me had me forgetting the apology that I had in my mind. “Just grabbing a beer.” I reached around her grabbing a beer from the bucket on the table watching her eyes follow me. Smooth. So fucking smooth.

It had been a week since the party and I couldn’t get her out of my mind. I’d go to sleep thinking of her. She’d come to me in my dreams with those brown eyes waking me up. I couldn’t stop thinking about how the side of her lips curled up and her whole face lit up when she smiled. I started to realize I was putting her on this pedestal, obsessing over Y/N, a girl I had met once in passing at a party.

So I did the only thing that I could do. I called up Axl to have his girlfriend plan a double date so that I could see her again. With the double date she would have her friend there for support but she would also be there with me. This would give me the opportunity to charm her and show her I was capable of conversations that were bigger than just introducing myself or getting a beer.

The girls were at the bar and my heart got caught in my throat when I saw her. She was wearing a silky green dress, clinging to the curves of her body. Cherry painted lips, full and just needing to be kissed, were in a smile as she sipped a wine glass. I didn’t know how I was going to make it through the night.

Her eyes landed on mine across the room, the soft smile she was wearing blooming larger as she shook her head, leaning forward to her friend before the pair of them were both headed over to us.

“I had a feeling it would be you here tonight.” she had that glint in her eyes again, “What was your name again? I don’t think that I caught it the first time.” the way she teased me so easily put me at ease. I didn't feel the stress like I had the night of the party. She was bringing me out of the shyness, fixing the way my mouth was tongue tied.

Y/N sat next to me at dinner, tight in the booth as we talked about all the usual things people talked about but instead of hitting the highlight rail and painting a rainbow over her life she was raw. When we talked about family she told me about her grandparents who had raised her and Aunts and Uncles who stepped in where her parents failed. She knew about the band because she was actually best friends with Axl’s girlfriend so when she looked at me there was a skeptical look in her eyes as if she knew the secrets and shames of my life. But there wasn't any judgement.

Y/N asked me questions, not about the band and what it felt like to be on stage or if I’d write a song about her but different questions like what it felt like when I held a guitar for the first time and how many songs did he write that never made it past notebooks. We talked and talked, snug in the booth together seeming to forget it was a double date and we just fell into a conversation together.

Finally a waiter came over to us letting us know that the place was closing and that the two of you had to leave. Time had completely gotten away from me as I had stayed wrapped up in her. Looking across the table I saw Axl and his date gone.The check was on the table but before I could reach for it she had thrown money down, smiling up at the waiter and letting him know it was all set.

“I’m supposed to pay for that.” I said as she scooted gently pushing me out of the booth. Her shoulders shrugged as she walked out of the restaurant, not waiting for me or seeming to care if I was behind her.

The sound of her heels on concrete, gave away which direction she was headed. Her bare shoulders were held high even in the cool night and I was rushing to be by her side, shrugging out of the denim jacket and wrapping it around her. The kind brown eyes looked up at me, skeptical for a second.

“I’m not going to sleep with you, Izzy.” her voice was clear and came out easily, “And I don’t date musicians.” She was matter of fact, shutting off the fact that we had just had a good night together and had gotten to know each other more.

I had watched the way she talked, confirming some of her nervous ticks. Like how she would look down and reset, sweeping her eyes around the room when she wasn’t comfortable. That had stopped about twenty minutes into dinner when we started to get along. There was no beer can tab to bend this way and that so instead her finger swirled around the top ledge of her wind glass in between small sips of wine.

“I never said anything about sleeping with you or dating you.” I said as we got to the corner. Her brown eyes were narrowed, regarding me with a strange curiosity like she was trying to make out what I wanted from her. “I want to kiss you though.” My hand slid through her black hair, as soft as silk, just like I had known it would be. She gasped, her mouth opening in a slight gasp not expecting me to be so close to her. Our eyes met and I watched her search me, as if there would be answers behind my eyes that I hadn’t spoken to her.

“If you kiss me I’ll never speak to you again. I don’t need boys kissing me.” her brown eyes were serious. There was an interesting spark there and it wasn’t like she was telling me that I couldn't kiss her. Y/N hadn’t moved an inch from my arms, she stayed looking up at me with my hands on her lower back. Having her in my arms felt good, not like the carnal or feral pleasure that I had with random girls. It was like we could communicate without words

“I’m not a boy, I’m a man.” The way she smirked at that statement was encouraging but there was still the fear in her eyes that I wanted to see gone. How could I get those brown eyes to only shimmer in happiness. “Let me walk you home.” I pulled back, watching the way her eyes sparkled for a second. It was the first time I felt like I had made the right choice.

Two days later I was sitting on the couch backstage, my fingers picking idolly on the guitar when two giggling girls burst into backstage. And there she was, eyes shiny with joy as she laughed with her friend. The pair of them seemed almost surprised that they were in the room with the band. Y/N looked up, eyes landing on me as if she knew exactly where I would be.

I don’t know why her eyes knocked the wind out of me everytime that they looked at me but I was made stupid in her presence. She didn’t come over to talk to me, staying with her friend. Her black hair was tied back in a red ribbon bow. If she could have reached the ribbon I’m sure she would have pulled it out; she was playing with the end of her ponytail. I didn’t know why she was nervous but I gave her space watching how every few minutes she would look down her eyes looking around until they landed on me. When we would make eye contact she seemed frustrated by it and would pull her eyes away.

I had her phone number which I had called several times since the double date without her picking up once. There had to be a reason she was ignoring me. I had thought of around 100 in the time that I had been obsessing with her. The biggest one, the one that made the most sense is she wasn’t into me because there was someone else. The logical part of my brain accepted this but the other part wanted to fight for her, prove that I was worth it.

Before we went on stage, I looked over at her again.She looked tired, like she hadn’t slept since I dropped her off. Small dark circles that she hadn’t bothered to cover in makeup stood out as she sipped her beer. She wasn’t trying to make everyone laugh or touching forearms as she leaned in to speak to them. One hand was firmly planted in the denim shorts she was wearing and the other on a can of beer that I was sure was warm from how long she nursed it. It felt like something was wrong and I didn't have time to figure out what it was.

During the show I looked over, almost doing a double take when I saw her standing there, watching us perform. Her friends were all moving to the music but she was perfectly still just watching me. Not the band but me. She caught me staring and sent me a small wave in return, I missed the next note getting a scathing look from Axl as repayment.

How could she be so inside my head? I had no idea how to deal with it. All I could think about for the rest of the shoe was getting off stage and talking to her. Or kissing her. I could imagine her pressed against her, her arms wrapping around my neck as I lifted off her feet into a kiss. The feeling of her plus lips on mine, her tongue that I was sure tasted like something sweet, dancing against mine. I blinked myself out of the image, stealing a look over at her as if she could read my embarrassing thoughts. Just like a high school idiot I was fantasizing about a girl. I needed to get a better grip on things.

It took me almost twenty minutes to find her after the show. Between all the hustle and bustle of people moving around it was like a whirlwind and then suddenly there she was walking towards me, what looked like my denim jacket folded over her arm.

“Hey, I just brought this back for you. I have to head home now.” She tried to hand me the jacket but I was too caught up in the idea of her leaving so soon to grab it. Y/N must have seen the confusion on my face, “I have a meeting I need to prepare for tomorrow. I probably shouldn’t have even come out to this.” She motioned around to the show and once more held out the jacket for me to take,

“Why don’t I take you home?” The weary look on her face was there again; she didn’t trust me. It was fair. We hadn’t known each other for that long and if she knew the same people as I did it wasn’t really a slight on me to not trust me. It was common sense, “I just want to have a couple more minutes with you. I won’t force myself into your apartment or anything like that.” I could feel my heart breathing as I tried to play off this cool, collected guy. When she nodded in agreement I had to bite my lip to stop the idiotic smile from plastering across my face.

We talked in the car, small talk about little things and I asked her about her meeting. I got to glimpse her face express joy, stress, hope, and a million other emotions at the mention of it and realized this wasn’t just her work meeting but her passion meeting. Y/N wanted to design clothes and had gotten a meeting to work with a company to see her line. If she was taken on she could have a clothing line out as soon as the Spring.

I had been around musicians for so long that it seemed second nature to brag or talk about our work. There would be a million times where someone would just pick up an instrument and other people would join in on a jam session and suddenly a song was written. Or the amount of times composition notebooks were passed around to judge song lyrics someone else had written. No one was really shy about their music because everyone had this sense that they were the best at what they did.

Y/N seemed to have a track record of people not fully believing in her. She told me about her grandparents having sent her to college to get a husband more than they had sent her to get a degree and when she had graduated with her business degree and a good job they had been proud of her but there had been this sense of failure with it. If she told them it would just feel like it was about her step away from their traditional expectations of how she should live her life. Her friends were all so wrapped up in what they were doing, most of them hanging around the scene and trying to land a rich boyfriend to take care of them that she felt like if she shared her work with them they wouldn’t understand what she was trying to do. So she kept her designs to herself, sketching out ideas and tracing out pattern designs when she was alone. She would take vacation days from work just to sew or spend whole weekends pretending she had the stomach flu to give her an escape from everyone else and just focus on something that she wanted to do.

Seeing her talk about it and feeling the sincerity of her passion coming out in her words moved me and I had to see it. I wanted to see what made her so excited and what her dreams were. It felt important to me because it made her happy.

“Do you think I could see what you’re working on?” I asked when we pulled up outside of her place. She looked at me, shocked and stared for a second before giving a slight nod as she got out of the car leading me inside the place that she lived.

It was exactly how I would imagine it to be, pictures on the wall of family and friends, fresh flowers on the counter, a coffee cup with a lipstick smear on her coffee table, and just a mess of fabric everywhere.

“Sorry for the chaos. I’ve been in a panic mood.” she confessed, clearing off the couch and starting to tidy up as I walked around, looking at some of the sketches on the wall and letting my fingers run over the clothing she had on some forms. I could feel her eyes following me, watching me as I moved around.

“You did all of this by yourself?” She nodded, those brown eyes scared as she shared with me the intimacy of her craft. The raw unfinished hems of art in progress. “You’re amazing.” her eyes widened at this and for a second I thought she was going to cry. I took a step closer to her, “You should be really proud of yourself for getting all of this done. And your work is amazing. Will you tell me more about your meeting?”

And she did. We sat on the couch, time once more seeming to melt away around us. Both of us talked about our goals and dreams. The life we wanted and just some of the things that we had dreamed about. It was easy to talk about the life that we both wanted because our puzzle pieces we wanted in our life seemed to fit together.

The sun tickled me awake, teasing me out of sleep as I woke up on a couch. I looked at my side where Y/N was tucked in, fast asleep. There was a smirk as she dreamed about something amusing, drawn over her face. Some of her dark hair had escaped the pony tail and spilled over the gentle features of her face. Absent-mindedly, I tucked them back watching amused as her nose scrunched up from my fingers.

I couldn’t remember waking up next to someone that I hadn’t had sex with. I wasn’t sure what I was even supposed to do. Could I make myself a cup of coffee? Could I sneak out and make it to the band meeting I needed to be at in thirty seven minutes? Shit.

Trying to be gentle I slowly got up from the couch, rearranging Y/N so she would stay asleep. I grabbed my jacket, laying it over her as she resettled into the spot. I wanted to stay so badly but knew that I couldn’t miss the meeting.

Finding a pen I scribbled a note, hoping that she could read my chicken scratch writing and that she saw the message before her meeting. With one last glance I looked at her before leaving the apartment.

Y/N POV

Oh man, another night on the couch. My back was protesting against my decision before I even opened my eyes. It smells like cigarettes, sweat, and cologne. It smells like Izzy. My eyes snapped open as I remembered talking to him last night. Now I’m waking wrapped in the denim jacket I tried to give him back and he’s gone. When did he leave?

Looking at the time I started rushing around, packing things up in the garment bags, getting dressed and grabbing my bag. I stopped seeing a piece of paper with different handwriting on the counter, Izzy’s name signed at the bottom.

‘Sorry for sneaking out on you well you slept, you looked so peaceful I didn’t want to wake you. Your work is amazing and they’ll be so lucky to add your designs to the team. Good luck, Y/N. I’ll be throwing a party tonight. Here’s my address. Please come. -Izzy’

The kind words had my cheeks blazing. He believed in mr. He thought I had talent and could see the creativity and love sewn into each garment. He respected my craft and my passions. He had listened to my lamenting the night before about everything and he wanted my dreams to be realities.

The realization that I liked the guitarist started to seep in. The preconceived notions of who the band was and how they slept around was starting to slip; for the past couple weeks Izzy only had eyes for me. And when we talked it was so easy to tell him everything. At the parties and backstage Izzy had stayed away from the girls who wanted to sleep with him. He had even left to take me home. He hadn’t tried anything.

I had made this assumption about him because his band was just like everyone else. After the meeting I’d get ready and talk to him, apologize, kiss him.

Walking into the party I tried not to fidget with the leather dress. My eyes wandered around the house, I knew most of the people here but I couldn’t find Izzy.

It was twenty minutes later when I finally spotted him on the balcony. He looked uncomfortable, three girls crowded around him as he nodded his head absently. Every couple minutes he’d look up, eyes scanning the crowd before looking down at his drink, tipping it back to down the amber liquid. But the girls were going in rotation to the bar to keep them coming.

A weird cramping filled my stomach and my hands tightened in fists. The jealousy overtook me as I tried to figure out a plan.

“You’re staring at Izzy like he usually stares at you.” Looking over my shoulder I saw Axl staring past you to where his bandmate was trapped being held hostage by the hyenas. “Are you going to save him or are you going to let them take him upstairs? Better figure it out kid.” The lead singer moved away leaving me alone. I stewed in my anger, showtime.

One foot in front of another, hips swinging dangerously side to side I watched the eyes follow me. Izzy finally saw me when I got to the balcony, stepping forward to break out from his captors. My hand went to the back of his head, pulling him down a few inches to my lips and planting my lips on his. Hands slid down the smooth sides of the dress around me to my ass and back up to my lower back. Pulling away, my heart beating a million miles a minute, I looked into his shocked eyes. At least it wasn’t just me that felt the fireworks.

“I’ve had a very good day and I’m not going to let anyone ruin that.” I explained to him, flashing him a smile. Izzy cupped my cheeks, his lips hitting mine again as his body pressed me into the balcony. I could feel every part of him, hard and solid against me.

“I’ve been waiting to kiss you for weeks.” His head rested against mine and for a second I forgot that we were at a party surrounded by friends. Izzy seemed to completely forget, his eyes on me, one hand firm against my hip well the other ran through my hair.

“Did it live up to expectations?” I teased, watching the way he was looking at me. His gaze was intense and I felt like I was going to shiver despite the warmth of the night.

“It just left me hungry to kiss every inch of your body.” His words came out husky, vibrating through me and making the dress that barely covered my skin seem too hot to wear anymore.

A flip had been switched on and I couldn’t turn it off. After fighting it for weeks the feeling of Izzy’s hands in my body was exactly what I wanted.

“Are you going to fuck me like one of your groupies?” I asked, “Are we going to go upstairs and in an hour I’ll leave and never hear from you again?” His eyebrows furrowed together, confused.

“Do you think that I’m only going to take an hour with you, honey? That’s cute.” He was taking my hand, weaving us through the crowd and to his bedroom. My cheeks were burning red as he pulled us inside, locking the door behind us. “If you don’t want this, now would be the time to tell me because if you don’t say something in the next ten seconds I’m going to toss you on that bed behind you and do things with your body that I’m sure you’ve never had done before.” His eyes were staring so deeply into me, I gulped trying to picture what he had in mind but not being able to have a coherent thought.

“Why are we still in clothes?”

That was exactly the answer he was looking for. He took one step towards me, looking over my dress before spinning me around, his lips on the back of my neck kissing and biting around to my ear as his fingers pulled the zipper down, his middle finger tracing my spine as it went.

His mouth moved down, kissing until the dress was off, biting my ass cheek as I stepped from the dress. Izzy was on his knees behind me and I felt disoriented that I couldn’t see him.

“Bend over for me. Put your elbows out so you’re comfortable, Y/N. Good job, honey.” Licking my lips I followed his instructions and my body position ass up off the bed.

Hands on my hips rolled my underwear down, pulling it off as well as sliding off my heels. I felt on display, like I was his toy to play with. The idea of it having me bite my lip.

“Look at your pretty pussy.” His finger traced the outside lips, a whimper rolling out of my mouth, “I’m going to take care of you, honey. Don’t worry about that. Let me just enjoy the sight of you and learn your body, okay?” I nodded wishing I could turn and look at him. He rubbed his hands over my ass, pushing my stomach down and arching me higher. His hands went down again, pushing my legs open.

The way that Izzy made a hissing sound followed by a low grunt had me wondering what he was doing.

“Izzy, I can’t see what you’re doing.” I whined out trying to turn. A soft smack on my ass had me freezing in place.

“Do you want me to describe everything to you?” His voice seemed deeper, husky and needy now. “I’m going to get undressed .” The sound of a fly going down, a belt buckle unclipping and the sound of clothes being tossed aside confirmed this. “Now, I’m going to get on my knees behind you and play with your pussy. It’s so juicy and wet I’m going to pump out some of the juices like this.”

Two fingers stretched me open, surging me forward. Izzy moved his fingers quickly for a second, curling them inside to rub against the swell inside of my body. He pulled them out after a second and I heard a slurping sound and a groan of appreciation. I could picture him tasting me off himself and moaning softly into the bed sheets.

“I’m going to get more of your wet pussy juice and use it to stroke my hard cock. Is that okay, honey?” I squeaked out a yes, feeling his two fingers teasing at my hole. My body pushed back, wanting to feel full of him again, “What was that?” He kissed my thigh, wet grin the juices he had just been working from inside of me.

“Please, Izzy. I want you to pump your cock with my wet pussy.” My heart was beating so loudly. I was so horny and just wanted him to work the orgasm from my body. I felt comfortable and trusted him with myself, feeling like he wouldn’t abuse the power in a way I didn’t like.

His fingers were once more inside of me, working at me again. My hands gripped the sheets, trying not to push back against him but I could feel the rocking in my hips.

“Do you need to cum? Am I not finger fucking you hard enough? Let me use my mouth. I’ll fuck you with my tongue and suck on that little swollen clit.” His fingers left my body and I whimpered. I could hear this wet grunting and knew he was fisting his cock as he played with me. “You have me so hard.”

“So fuck me.” I said panting. It felt like he kept getting me so close and stopping. I could feel the quivering in my legs and knew I was more than ready to cum.

“Patience. You made me be patient for you now you be a good girl and let me taste you. I want to lap up your sticky pussy juices before I bury my cock into you.” At the idea of his cock in me I could feel the tightening in my belly.

“Holy-“ I couldn’t finish my sentence. His warm tongue swiped over me, twirling around my home, dancing into my pussy and licking my walls before sliding out down to my slit where his perfect lips wrapped around it like a kiss before his tongue spun around it sucking and pulling it in his mouth.

I was rocking again, over-stimulated and wanting to orgasm more and more. My mind was blank, a coherent thought no longer feasible.

“You can cum for me. I’ll keep sucking and licking you and right at your peak I’m going to push my cock all the way in. You’re going to keep pushing back just like you’re doing now in it, Cumming against my cock and letting me drain myself inside you.” He whispered as he laid these over stimulating kisses over my glistening cunt. His tongue swiped down into me again, then a flat stroke over me and up to my clit. I felt his tongue slide around it sucking the small ball until I was shaking from the orgasm.

Izzy was quick to slide inside me, filling me with his cock, stretching it as he fucked me, dragging out my orgasm as my wetness slid down my thighs over his balls and on his own legs.

“That’s a good girl, cumming so hard against my cock.” His hands were on my hips as I pushed back wanting him to keep fucking me. My hands on the small of my waist helped to pull me back and keep me dripping over every inch of him.

The low groan he gave out let me know he was close and I squeezed, pushing myself back up on my elbows tk throw it back. His hand slid down to my ass smacking it knee again before hands were digging on my hip, his balls slapping my enforced clit as he shuddered inside me.

Izzy stayed like that for a second, both of us panting and gasping for air. He pulled out with a satisfied groan falling beside me on the bed and dragging me close to him in the bed.

His lips were on my head, soft kisses and hair strokes soothing me. Izzy dragged a bed sheet over us, his arms returning to wrap around me. I felt exhausted, safe, comfortable and something deeper for him. A new connection beyond just the carnal pleasure we just had.

“Do you want to stay here for the night? We can do brunch in the morning and you can tell me all about your meeting?” He had remembered the most important step in my career and was making time for me to tell him more about it.

I pulled him into another kiss, his lips tasted like me and I knew we weren’t going to leave this bed until that brucnh he was talking about.

#izzy stradlin #Imagine #request #Izzy straddlin request #izzy stradlin x reader #izzy stradlin imagine #Izzy stradlin headcanon #gnr imagine #gnr fanfiction #guns n roses #guns n roses imagine #fanfic #izzy stradlin fanfic

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notanotherinfjblog · 3 years

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The types as strangers I wish I had known (version 4)

Previous versions: One, two, three

INTJ: She was the first person to show me kindness in a new place. Moving across the country all alone in the middle of a pandemic is not exactly the ideal start of your first real job. So she took it all on herself to take me by the hand, to organise all the things that I had no clue about. She gave me a little tour around the workplace, recommended me places to eat once the pandemic is over, asked me about how I was settling in, remembered little things I mentioned. She was the only person not working from home when I first arrived and so it was just the two of us. She was quiet and reserved as most people here seem to be, and she was awkward in every way when interacting with me. But she tried so hard and maybe it’s just me projecting, but she said her son was in the very same situation as me right now, and it felt like she tried to help me in the way she couldn’t help her son, like she wanted to take me under her wing, but not make it awkward, and then actually making it slightly awkward in doing so. Her heart just felt warm and so did mine when I said thank you.

ENTJ: Everyone knows the classic character of a self-righteous doctor in a hospital show. You know that one. The one that everyone thinks may be hard-working and clever, but heartless and uncaring and egocentric, but a few episodes down the line you start to see that there is more going on underneath the rude attitude. I’ve always believed this to be a stereotypical depiction that is more of a caricature until I met her. She was a doctor at a hospital I stayed in, and damn, she was just like that. She stormed into the rooms, rolled her eyes at a patient whose German was bad, even though she had a thick accent herself, couldn’t be bothered to commit to polite standards of communication like saying hello or thanks, and she didn’t care to wait for just a second when a nurse was in her way and pushed her aside instead. Especially two young nurses were exasperated with her and complained about her as soon as she stormed out of the room. They really made me feel like I had gotten myself into a hospital show as a patient, it was fantastic. And I have to say, even though this young doctor had all of these flaws, she was the only one that actually talked to the patients and explained what was going on, hell she even talked to that woman’s daughter on the phone for a few minutes because the woman didn’t understand the language. Just like on tv, she may have been rude, but at least she seemed like a good doctor.

INTP: My university department held a conference and I was responsible for making sure that all these professors and PhD students didn’t die from their coffee cravings, so I spent most of my time running around with giant coffee cans. And I have to admit, among all the scientists that were roaming the halls, I couldn’t help but stare at him. He was a PhD student from the Netherlands and there was just something about him that did not fit in. You know how professors are often a bit eccentric or strange by normal standards (which explains why we had to explain to an unspeakable amount of them how a coffee can works), so you’d imagine he’d fit right in. But he didn’t. He was his own universe. While everyone was networking, he was studying the research posters in silence. Not because he was too shy, he seemed very comfortable in his own skin. He just didn’t seem to care all that much about other people. I got to listen to a few talks and as he sat in front of me, I saw him play a video game. At an international conference. With professors and colleagues sitting behind him. And he still managed to ask intelligent questions about the talk afterwards. No idea how. Part of me wished I could have talked to him, not because he was cute though he was, but rather because I really could not tell you what kind of person he was. Was he a good person? A bad one? Probably something in-between. But I don’t think my opinion would have fazed him all that much, since to me, he seemed like the kind of person that valued his own opinion on himself the most, and I think that’s a good thing that he’s got there.

ENTP: I had just moved to a different city in a completely different part of the country, and I had just gotten back from my first walk around town. Sounds exciting, but I got back to this unfamiliar flat that I was supposed to call home now and I was panicking. So I stepped out on the balcony hoping the cold air and the stars above could calm my nerves. But it wasn‘t them that did. I stood there in the dark and saw an elderly couple in the parking lot. The woman was in a very similar mental state as me. She was running around their car and was talking about all the things they still had to take care of and things they‘d need, but had forgotten, and her voice got higher and shakier with every word. And then her husband just went and hugged her. She kissed him goodbye three times and every time she did, he let out a little laugh, calm and gentle. He pat her on the back and said that everything was going to be okay, that they would see each other again tomorrow. She kissed him goodbye one last time before she drove away, and I stood there alone in the dark and thanked the universe that I was there at the right time to hear this old man‘s words. For some reason he always seems to appear every time I‘m feeling low and strikes up a little chat with me. And every time he leaves, I have already forgotten what I was sad about.

INFJ: I think everyone pursuing an academic career has this one hero, this one scientist that lit the spark in their heart to dedicate their life to science just like them. I know I have one. So when I started an internship at his lab with one of his colleagues, I didn‘t really expect to meet him. I had seen him around once in a while, yes, but who was I to approach a stranger to tell him what his work meant to me? But then came the plenary meeting that was meant to get more people of the lab to get to know one another - and he approached me. He sat down next to me, asked me about my academic past and future, asked about my current project with his colleague. And I still can‘t believe it. Only a little girl singing in the church choir who is suddenly approached by Beyoncé can hope to imagine what it felt like. He was an internationally renowned scientist, he would have had every reason to look down on the rest of us. Many of them certainly do. But here he was, talking to a little intern from abroad. He was such a genuinely nice person, was sweet and slightly awkward, he even mirrored my weird head nodding that I always do when all the words have left me. He felt like a kindred spirit. I didn‘t tell him what these few minutes talking to him meant to me though part of me wishes that I did, yet still he invited me to the meetings of his research team even though I was not a part of it. And when I came and sat down, he turned around, smiled at me and turned away again, and I can‘t tell you how insane it feels that all of this actually happened.

ENFJ: I’ve written about him before and I will write about him forever. I remember the day our eyes first met in that crowded school corridor almost half of my life ago. I don’t know why neither of us could look away that day, why neither of us could ever look away again from this day on. Somehow our eyes always found each other. I remember the snowy day at the train station so many years later, how he stood there alone in the cold and how he slowly walked towards me, his eyes glued to his feet that abruptly stopped right next to mine. And yet he stayed silent. As did I. So we stood there for an hour waiting for our train, quickly averting our eyes every time they came close to meeting. I remember him looking back at me over his shoulder once we got off the train. He seemed quite flustered that I was about to find out that he had parked his car right next to mine and so he fled. Both of us kept parking our cars next to each other, even when we didn’t see each other for months. But I could never follow him out. He was my own personal mystery. I spent countless nights staring at the ceiling wondering what it was, this strange thing that was going on between us, this little secret that we shared, and I wondered who he really was inside, not who he pretended to be in front of his friends. He was like an island in their midst, always a bit detached, always tucked away behind a smile. Soon twelve years will have passed and still we’ve never spoken a word, but somehow these dark brown eyes still feel more familiar than my own, these eyes that always seemed to look right into my soul. I could have stared at them my whole life. I honestly have no idea what it is that is tying me to him, what it is that I felt back then and what I’m feeling right now. Maybe I’ll never know. I haven’t seen him in three years, but I know our paths will cross again some day. I can feel it in my bones. This story is not over yet. Maybe then we’ll finally be ready to meet properly. Maybe then we’ll finally be able to speak.

INFP: I happened to stand at the window when I saw the new postman approach our letterbox, and so I watched him throw letters and magazines inside - and stop. He moved his head closer to the box and a frown appeared on his face. He backed off, wanted to leave, came back again and didn’t seem to know what he was supposed to do. So he rang the doorbell. As I opened the door, there he was, shy and with slight panic in his eyes. “I’m so sorry”, he said. “There is a sign on your letterbox that you don’t want advertisements, but I saw that too late and I had already thrown it in. I’m terribly sorry. I can’t get it out of the box and so I thought, I should ask if that’s alright.” And my heart just went awwww, that’s adorable. I smiled at him and told him that it was absolutely fine. He seemed so relieved. So he went away and I closed the door.

ENFP: This is for the man with the kind, but heartbreakingly sad eyes who sometimes sits in front of the train station silently begging for money. This is for the grandparents who spent their train ride trying to teach their little grandchildren the numbers from one to five. This is for the old woman who always kneels down in the middle of the train station with her forehead pressed to the ground, keeping still for hours, enduring the devastation of thousands of people passing by without stopping. This is for the woman who knelt down next to a homeless man, who took his hand and asked how she could help him. This is for the man who made faces at the little boy sitting next to him on the train to make him laugh. This is for the anger I felt when I saw the distraught face of a 10-year-old boy coming out of the movie „1917“ at the cinema with his father. This is for the happy little puppy who lives next to the bakery where I usually grab my lunch. This is for the twenty people who decided to all speak a foreign language during a meeting with each other just because I was there too, a total stranger they had never even seen before who is bad at their native language. This is for the creep that asked me in the middle of the street at night to accompany him. This is for the two teenagers who went to buy sandwiches and coffee for a homeless woman. This is for the families I often see sitting at the train stations, sometimes with a baby in their arms, holding a sign saying „Syrian family. We are hungry, help us please.“ This is for the man who yelled at his girlfriend because she gave them some money. This is for the people who play music during everyone‘s morning commute on the train. This is for all the people who approached me speaking in French and started to laugh when I apologised for not being very good at it. This is for Paris, in all its beauty and all its ugliness. This is for humanity, in all its beauty and ugliness.

ISTJ: He was sitting alone on the train, looking out of the window while listening to something with headphones. He was a tall guy in his mid-20s, one with a full beard, long brown hair in a neat ponytail, and a t-shirt of some rock band that I had never heard of. So, I was sitting there, three meters away, minding my own business, when I suddenly heard a giggle. The entire car of the train had been quiet all this time as it usually is, so I looked up and saw this guy trying to contain his laughter. He pressed the lips together, scratched his nose in order to inconspicuously cover his mouth. I don’t know where this sudden burst of laughter came from. Maybe he was listening to an audio book and reached a funny part. Maybe he was listening to a voice message of a funny friend. Maybe he just had a very amusing thought, I don’t know. But I’ve always had a soft spot for people who randomly start laughing in public and get embarrassed about it cause it’s always, always adorable.

ESTJ: She was a PhD student at my university and she was the one who mainly organised the conference that the above mentioned INTP was attending, too. And even though she didn‘t get tired of complaining about how much work this all was, how typical it was of her boss to volunteer to hold the conference at our university and then not lifting a single finger, she was like a fish in the water, not out of it. She observed everything and everyone, immediately recognised little problems or things that could become a problem, she was constantly running around checking everything, and she kept so many things in mind, it was impressive. One of the attendees sat in a wheelchair and as soon as she noticed, she made us rebuild the entire cafeteria immediately so that everything was reachable for her. And in all the running around, all the obligatory smalltalk, all the stress, she still found the time to stand with us student helpers and joke around.

ISFJ: It was 6pm on a Friday afternoon when all of Paris was trying to get home in the middle of a train strike, so the trains that did run were even more crowded than usual. I did not enjoy sharing 5 square metres with almost 40 other people. But then he entered the train and stood right next to me, leaning against the doors without moving, looking like an intellectual in gangster clothes. We were surrounded by noise of people talking and of rails screaming, by strangers breathing onto our skin, and he just stood there unfazed by it all. He radiated calmness like I‘ve never seen anyone do before. Soon it reached me too, filled me up and left no place for any distress or anxiety. He was like an island in the storm that grew and grew and grew until all of the 40 people around him were safe. I felt safe. I don‘t think he has even the faintest clue about how special he is, but I feel like it has been a privilege to have crossed paths with him.

ESFJ: Did you ever meet someone who, on first glance, looks like the perfect example of a jock, just a short guy with bigger arms than he’s tall? But then you look again, take a closer look at him and you realise that his face has goodness written all over it. He may be horribly bad at grammar for a linguistics student and he may be a bit too sensitive for his own good, but he never made it a secret of how much of a sweetheart he really is. And in situations like these, when he talks about how emotional he got as a tutor when his student told him about a dying grandfather because he felt responsible for the student’s wellbeing, in situations like these, when he approaches my friend after a class to apologise for his harsh criticism of her presentation and to tell her that he didn’t mean it that way, to which she gets all confused because she didn’t take the slightest offence to anything he has ever said in his entire life and he mumbles that he may have to stop beating himself up about stuff like this, I just want to give him a hug and never let go.

ISTP: I saw her on the metro during rush hour in Paris, and I immediately noticed her to be different. Everyone else always only stares at their phones or into space, everyone else always look like a tired zombie. She was not a zombie. She was leaning against the doors, shaking her leg in the rhythm of the music she was listening to. She was short and skinny, and not even her punk boots could hide that, but there was such a confidence shining out of her, a confidence in who she was that made her look like a giant. She looked like she‘s probably had it rather rough in life, but it didn‘t break her. She rose to the adversity, rose in spite of it all. She seemed to be capable of so many things. Intelligent enough to go into science if she ever wanted to, vicious enough to end someone who ever dared to cross her, warm enough to love deeply and with all her heart if she let it.

ESTP: It was a hot day and far hotter than a September afternoon ever should be. I was stuck in a traffic jam in the city, melting in my car as were so many others, waiting for that red light to finally turn green. And then he came, a young guy in an ugly shirt and with a hat on his head. He started to cross the street, but then stopped right there in the middle. And he started to juggle. In the middle of a traffic jam on a Friday afternoon, he juggled. Just before his green light turned to red, he bowed down to the cars a few times, and then jumped to the sidewalk and left. Thanks, mate, you enigmatic juggling traffic hero.

ISFP: I met him at a wedding. He was a bald man in his 70s with thick horn glasses and probably the most intimidating person I’ve ever met. Not because he was mean, but because he was so confident in himself and so observant. His gaze constantly changed direction. He took everything in that happened around him, he didn’t miss a single thing that was going on, and still he was calm and sure of himself that everyone at our table felt like they had to impress him in some way. Just by looking at him you knew he must have lived an extraordinary life and he really did. He liked talking about himself. He talked about living in the American desert, on a mediterranean island, in a Buddhist monastery, and on a cruise ship. He talked about the smell of the desert at night, about the taste of oranges picked from a tree. He talked about the people he met, about professors and musicians, about cooks and monks. He talked about how much his village loved him. But he also liked listening to others talk about their own lives. It was obvious that he treated life as an experience, as a journey that cannot be planned or imagined, only lived. When we said goodbye, he looked me right in the eye and told me that he thinks it’s great what I’m doing with my life and that he’s looking forward to meeting me again some day. It felt a bit like receiving praise from a deity.

ESFP: He was a nurse in the accident and emergency department at the hospital and the first person to talk to me while I was waiting in front of an examination room. He was only passing by with a colleague, but he stopped the conversation when he saw me and put his hand on my shoulder. “Aw, sugarmouse, what happened to you?”, was the first thing he said to me. You know, if an unknown man in his 50s is coming towards you and calls you “sugarmouse”, you’re usually not exactly happy, but he was just an overwhelmingly non-threatening guy that called all of the nurses and doctors by kitschy nicknames and radiated warmth wherever he went. He had noticed that I was nervous, and so he came to me and tried to gently put my mind at ease and I was really grateful for it.

#writing this took 3 years #nothing happens during a pandemic but all the more important this kind of testimony to these people feels to me #esfj has actually become a friend of mine by now #isfp is part of my family now since it was his brother's and my mother's wedding #and the enfj guy is the same as in the first version of this post that i wrote 5 years ago #i don't know where he is now or what he's doing but i really hope that his life is filled with love and happiness #i just think it's strange that after graduating i never saw 98% of the people i went to school with again #but the two people i did meet again dozens of times? were enfj and his little brother #sometimes it felt like a conspiracy of the universe and we were just too stupid #every time i think about how we had eye contact while driving past each other twice i think i‘m going insane #mbti #myers-briggs #types as #strangers i wish i had known #intj #entj #intp #entp #infj #enfj #infp #enfp #istj #estj #isfj #esfj #istp #estp #isfp #esfp

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hansolmates · 3 years

Text

shiver | 09

banner by the lovely @dnrequests

summary; jungkook changed since he moved out of his small town church community and attended college. when he returns for a christmas mass, you suddenly crave a taste of his fun and carefree life. in exchange, jungkook craves a taste of you pairing; bad boy!jungkook x church girl!reader genre/warnings; childhood friends to lovers, coercion, brief childhood friends to enemies, fwb!au, catholic guilt, jungkook is a meanie who eventually turns into a soft tsundere, bicuriosity, sexual exploration, virgin!oc, eventual smut—in this installment, I KNOW it does not take 2 hours to reach level 9 blond esp on asian hair, hair aficionados pls don’t sue me w/c; 879 a/n; last installment before everything comes into place! this pairing is just so delightfully awkward and mildly uncomfortable sometimes, sometimes i try to imagine this pairing in their childhood bumbling around and it still reflects in their adulthood. next part will be tomorrow, and it will be 😳 enjoy! [shiver masterpost]

“They keep saying that there’s this grand plan in the world, and we’re all just itty-bitty fragments of it.” You kick petulantly at the snow that hasn’t been shoveled yet, “small, minor, and insignificant.”

“What do you mean,” Jungkook mumbles, his words warm and grey with frost when he exhales in the cold day.

“I mean that we’re servants to this grand plan,” you say plainly, as if defeated, “and I’m trying to wrap my head around why that doesn’t seem so appealing now.”

Jungkook never realized how smart you really are. Sure, his parents have told him stories about how you would be able to crunch numbers and create full potluck dinners in a matter of hours, or how you would be able to stop the loudest of babies in the cry room with your softest blanket and a bedtime story.

You’ve always been questioning, moreto yourself than anything. Jungkook always wondered where the energy went, the hours upon hours of dedication to the deity. Where does this spent exhaustion lead to, is he building up credit to save himself or to serve?

Your presence is muted, but strong. Your white puffy jacket helps you meld between the snowflakes, your face barely popping out with your scarf wrapped tightly around your neck. The beanie you’re wearing has an oversized white pom-pom, bouncing like a cotton-tailed rabbit as you walk down the street.

“Yeah, that scared me a lot,” Jungkook doesn’t know how to add anything articulate, so he settles for being honest, “when I first came to school here, I kinda went wild.”

“Kinda?”

“Okay, majorly,” Jungkook sulks, kicking a random stone on the pavement, “fucked around, painted on the walls, did drugs.”

“You still do those things.”

“Only fucking around with you, like I promised,” Jungkook replies pointedly, “and now I only paint on walls I’m paid to do. And I stopped trying drugs after Easter of freshman year.”

“Oddly specific,” you put a finger on your lips, “have you ever tried acid?”

He guaffs, “Do you even know what acid’s like?”

“Sounds bad. I mean it’s literally called acid.”

The two of you stop at an intersection. There’s a bunch of stores on both ends of the street. The roads seem to narrow, and you move away from Jungkook and jab your finger in a vague direction, “I have to do something over there,” you say.

Jungkook raises an eyebrow, “Okay. I’ll wait for you,” he gestures to the bags in his hands. Secondhand textbooks that the two of you went to pick up together. You didn’t plan to meet prior, however happenstance had you two meeting eyes in the corner of the tiny rental store.

“You don’t have to, we didn’t come together anyway.”

“You’re being secretive,” Jungkook peeks over to the inconspicuous street, unsure of what you’re planning to do. “Are you going to do something impulsive?”

“Maybe.”

“Okay,” he shrugs, “I’ll go do something impulsive too. Meet you here in two hours?”

You make a face as Jungkook whips the other way, carrying your bags over his shoulder as he crosses the street. A funny guy, you think, as you walk to your intended way. Getting to know Jeon Jungkook as an adult is a whole different ball game.

Maybe him breaking your heart all those weeks ago was a good thing. A reset. You’re able to see Jungkook for more than the childhood love you held near and dear to your heart. Although that part of yourself might never disappear because first loves are flawed to be unforgettable, it’s nice to constantly be surprised by Jungkook’s mannerisms as a young man.

When you finally find the shop you enter as quietly as possible, minding the concentration that steeps the room.

“Jamais Vu Tattoo, can I help you?” you can’t help but smile at the receptionist for unintentionally making a half-rhyme.

“Hi, I have an appointment with Yoongi?”

“Your hair!”

“You like it?”

Feeling grabby, you get on your tippy toes to admire the freshly dyed locks. Your fingers weave between the white-gold strands, amazed at the fact it only took two hours for it to lift. The toner didn’t pull all the brassiness, however you quite like the dark roots, making him look a little more rugged. You didn’t know that this type of color could be possible in such little time, but then again Jungkook never ceases to surprise you.

“Your hair’s still a little crunchy,” you muse, feeling a bit of crispy ends despite the trim he also received.

Jungkook frowns, “It’ll be fine.”

“I have a hair mask at home, swing by so you can borrow it.”

“Don’t need a hair mask,” he grumbles, “I have my own.”

You giggle, scrunching your nose and hiding your nose in your scarf. One thing you used to admire about Jungkook is his attention to cleanliness. In high school, most boys were gross and wouldn’t bother to care for the little things—laundry, a skincare routine, a work ethic. Jungkook makes sure his hair is kempt and his skin clear.

“It’s cute,” you declare, “and pretty."

“I dyed my hair blond because it’s sexy, not cute,” Jungkook scrunches his brows together.

“Cute,” you repeat, walking ahead of him and into the street.

#btsguild #btsghostie #btswritingcafe #kwritersworldnet #jungkook x reader #jungkook fic #bts fic #bts x reader

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minim236 · 2 years

Text

First Kiss

From chap.29 of this fic

"Hey," Diana greeted Colette who sat in the chapel in the village near Sept-tours. Gallowglass was stood near the entrance, guarding as always.

"Hey, Marcus finished prodding you?" She said, helping Diana sit down on one of the benches. Colette liked coming here, how peaceful it was. A respite from the chaos of Sept-Tours.

"Yep, not long now," Diana replied, "I just want to keep them in here," She said, rubbing her stomach as she felt them kick. It was easier, almost with them inside of her. When they were small and safe. No creature could get to them.

"We will protect them," Colette assured, "And when you put the book together, no one will mess with you. They would be foolish to."

"Aye, if they wanted to mess with the de Clermonts before, they'd have a tougher time doing so now." Gallowglass agreed.

"How are you feeling today?" Diana asked and Colette smiled sadly.

"Better. Thanks," Diana held her hand in comfort.

"I'm sorry. I wished Goody didn't...sacrifice herself for me." Diana said.

"My grandmother knew it was going to happen. She always knew, as did I. It just hurts a lot more than I expected," She replied.

"You always have a place with my family and here. I'm sure very few would oppose that," Diana looked to Gallowglass who rolled his eyes. She and Matthew, as well as his step-father and Emily, were always hinting at his affection for Colette. But she was young, only twenty-one years old and grieving. The last thing she needed was the intensity of a vampire's affection.

"Ysabeau has been very kind. I admit, I thought she would want to tear my throat out when I arrived," Colette said, oblivious to the vampire looking longingly at her. Diana hid a smile underneath a cough.

Her firedrake suddenly appeared, surprising everyone as it didn't usually appear unless Diana called out loud for her. Little did they know that she now knew how to communicate telepathically with the firedrake.

"Corra!" Diana feigned annoyance and turned to Gallowglass, "Do you mind? She's more excited as I get closer to the babies being born." He nodded and left the church to catch the bird.

"Is Corra okay?" Colette asked, concerned.

"Oh, yeah she's helping you out," Diana said, but the younger witch tilted her head in confusion, "You like him. It's obvious."

"We're friends." Colette insisted.

"He likes you, really likes you, " Diana said. Colette's eyes widened and she looked back at where Gallowglass was attempting to catch the firedrake, who enjoyed toying with the vampire. Despite his speed and strength, it was hard to catch the magical bird.

"Oh! Really?" Her eyes widened in surprise.

"Yeah." Diana said, "We've all kind of been dropping hints because he's not the best at this. Fernando said the only other person Gallowglass willingly followed around like this was his father. He's not exactly the relationship type, but according to all the gossips in this family, he's never looked at any woman as he looks at you."

She thought of how he followed her everywhere, kept a special eye on her. Why Ysabeau and Baldwin were so nice to her.

"Eric!" he turned confused to see the witch running towards him. He looked around, worried that something was wrong, but she was smiling.

"What's the matter?"

She leaned up and kissed him softly, surprising him but he happily kissed her in return, before she shyly pulled away. She didn't know the protocol for kissing a vampire, but he didn't seem to not like it.

"Oh, that was nice," Gallowglass stuttered out. For once, he didn't know what to say. First time in 1,600 years.

"It was." Colette agreed, and he leaned down and kissed her again

Diana smiled at the two and looked down at Corra who had settled down next to her, "Good job," She squawked happily in reply before going back inside her mistress.

#gallowglass x oc #gallowglass de clermont #colette alsop #fic excerpt #fc: alisha boe #diana bishop #a discovery of witches #adow fic #one shot #original character

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cobra-shy · 3 years

Text

Daniel/Mr. Miyagi/Bruce Springsteen on Broadway

In our front yard, only a few feet from our porch stood the grandest tree in town. It was a towering, beautiful copper beech tree. And on sunny days, I lived under its branches. Its roots were a fort for my soldiers and a corral for my horses. And I was the first on my block to climb high into its upper reaches, leaving behind a world that... I didn't care for much already. And up near the top I had the wind in my face and I had all the dreaming room that you could want...

[...]

It was a beautiful fall November evening, I was doing the writing for my book, and I drove back to my neighborhood where I grew up, looking for uh - I still don't have a fucking clue. But uh, all I know is the streets were dead empty and the whole place looked like it'd been locked down since 1955. My corner church was silent and unchanged, no weddings, no funerals, I rolled slowly another 50 yards up my block to visit my great tree and it was gone. It'd been cut to the street since the last time that I had drove through.

So I got out of the car and I looked down, and there was a square of musty earth that held the remaining snakes of its roots on the edge of the parking lot. So I reached down, I picked up a handful of dirt and I just kinda ran it through my hands, and my heart sank like, like a kid who suffered from irretrievable loss, ya know, like some piece of me was gone. Um, I don't know I guess I, it was just it had been there long before I was, I assumed it would be there long after I was gone, and I liked that. It, it felt eternal. It was at the center of our street and it had rooted our neighborhood for so long. So I sat there for awhile just cursin' the county and listenin' to the sounds of the evening come on and I looked again and I realized it was gone but some, some essential piece of it was still there, the air and the space above its roots. I could still feel the life, and soul, and the light, of my childhood friend there.

It's just that its leaves, its branches, and its massive trunk were now outlined, shot through by evening stars and sky.

But my great tree's life couldn't be ended or erased so easily, from this place because it's history. And history matters. Its imprint was too great, it was too old, and it was too strong, it had been there too long, to be done away with so easily.

It had stood witness to everything that had happened on these small streets beneath its arms. All the joy, and all the heartbreak, and all the life. And when we live amongst ghosts, always trying to reach us, from that shadow world, and they're with us every step of the way. My dead father's still with me every day and I miss him and if I had a wish, oh man I - I wish he could've been here to see this.

But I visit with him every night, a little bit, and that's a grace-filled thing. And Clarence, I get to see him and be with Clarence a little bit every night. And Danny, Walter, and Bart, my own family, so many of them gone from these houses that are now filled by strangers but the soul, the soul is a stubborn thing. Doesn't dissipate so quickly. Souls remain. They remain here in the air, in empty space, in dusty roots, in sidewalks that I knew every single inch of like I knew my own body, as a child, and in the songs that we sing, ya know. That is why we sing.

We sing for our blood and for our people, because that's all we have at the end of the day - each other and, maybe that's what I'm lookin' for when I go down there, I just wanna commune with the old spirits, stand in their presence, feel their hands on me. One more time.

Um, anyway, once again I stood in the shadow of my old church ya know, you know what they say about Catholics - yeah, there's no gettin' out. Nah, no, they gotcha, they gotcha, the bastards got ya when the gettin' was good. They did their work hard and they did it well, 'cause the words of a very strange but all too familiar benediction came back to me that evening, and I wanna tell you these were words that as a kid, I mumbled these things, I sing-songed them, I chanted them, bored out of my fucking mind, in an endless drone before class every fucking day, every day the green blazer, the green tie, the green trousers, the green socks of all of Saint Rose's unwilling disciples, ya know. But for some damn reason, as I sat there on my street that night, ya know, mourning, mourning my old tree, and once again surrounded by God, those were the words that came back to me and they flowed differently. Was "Our Father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on Earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day, just give us this day and forgive us our sins, our trespasses, as we may forgive those who trespass against us, lead us not into temptation but deliver us from evil, all of us, forever and ever, Amen". And may God bless you, your family, and all those that you love. And thanks for comin' out tonight.

#i had originally planned on making this into a comic but my carpal tunnel's been acting up T_T #ive been thinking about this since last year though adfsfsfsf #my entire daniel playlist is just a series of carefully sequenced intros from springsteen on broadway T_T

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watchyourbluesturngolden · 3 years

Note

Can you please do one where y/n tells Harry that she’s bi, harry’s supportive but then she tells him that he’s the only one who knows bc she scared her parents would find out and do something bc they are very homophobic?? Plssss plss

I tried to make this as accurate as I could, but I am not a member of the LGBT+ community, so I’m really sorry if this isn’t an accurate portrayal!

bisexual

warnings: anxiety, coming out, mentions of homophobia

word count: 1.3k

You had to tell him. You knew you had to tell him. You just didn't know what to say. How do you even start a conversation like that? "Hey Harry, by the way, I like men- and women?" Maybe not like that. Or, actually, maybe just like that. Maybe it would be better to just say it fast? No beating around the bush. Just go for it. You knew he would be supportive. You knew he wouldn't look at you any differently. Still, you couldn't manage to shove your nerves down.

And it wasn't just Harry. There was also the matter of your family. Your very conservative family who definitely wouldn't accept this part of you. You could already hear their responses if you were ever to tell them. "Oh, Y/N, you're not bisexual. It's wrong, and we raised you better than this. What will our friends think? What will the church think?" You really didn't need to deal with that, not when you were having a hard enough time understand it on your own. You didn't need the added confusion and judgement and intolerance you knew your family would give you. Nonetheless, you didn't know how much longer you could keep this hidden from everyone. It felt like you were lying to the people you loved. You didn't care as much about your family not knowing; you knew they wouldn't be accepting anyways. But you hated that you were keeping this from Harry. So finally, you decided to get it over with. You felt the anxiety twisting in your stomach every time you saw him, wondering if now was the time. You knew it would only get worse the longer you kept it in, so you needed to get it off your chest, and soon. You were pulled out of your spiraling thoughts when the front door slammed open. You were on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, deep in thought and staring at the paused episode of Grey's Anatomy as you chewed on your bottom lip. You had stopped the episode almost an hour ago, because you couldn't focus on anything. You had decided that today was the day to tell Harry. It was the perfect time, you thought. Things had been really good between you lately. Harry wasn't too stressed at work, and neither were you. Anyways, what's that saying? There's no time like the present. "Hi baby!" Harry chirped, sauntering into the living room. He leaned over the back of the couch, putting his arms around your shoulders as he kissed your cheek. "Hi," you squirmed away from him, giggling as his hair tickled the side of your face when he moved closer to you. Harry took it upon himself to flip over the back of the couch, landing next to you (and partly on top of you) with a clumsy movement. It took a few moments of shuffling and laughing as he tried not to hit you with his lanky arms or legs, but he finally settled himself with his head in your lap. "How was your day?" He looked up at you with a lazy grin. "Good," you smiled down at him, threading your fingers through his messy hair. "How was yours?" "Also good," he closed his eyes at the soothing feeling of your fingers. "I got a lot done. Might have some new songs for you to hear soon." "Really?" You asked excitedly. You were one of the first people who got to hear the finished products, and it was such a special feeling for both of you. "Mhm," he nodded. "I think you're really going to like one of them." "I think I'm really going to like all of them," you corrected. "Right," he laughed. "That's what I meant." The two of you lapsed into a comfortable silence, your fingers still stroking through his hair as he breathed softly. After a few minutes, he opened his eyes to look up at you again. "You can start your show again if you want." Harry acted like he didn't care about the show, but you both knew he was into it. He got really involved and you definitely saw him crying during a few of the main character deaths. "Oh- that's ok, I wasn't really watching anyways." "No?" You shook your head, looking away from him when he sat up. He turned to face you, resituating so your legs were on his lap. "Why not?" "Just thinking," you said, looking down at your fingers. He followed your gaze, sighing softly when he saw you were picking at your cuticles, a telltale sign of anxiety for you. "About?" he questioned gently, using his hands to pull yours apart. He did this whenever he saw you picking at your skin, and it make your heart squeeze every time. "I kind of... I have to tell you something," you said, inhaling a shaky breath. "What's up?" He ducked his head down to meet your gaze. His features filled with concern when he saw how your eyes were filling up with

tears. "What is it? Did something happen?" You shook your head, wiping your sleeve over your eyes quickly. "No- well, not really." "Not really? Are you ok?" "I'm- it's not... bad," you tried to reassure him, but the terrified look on your face was probably not very convincing. You took another deep breath, trying to slow your heart which at this point was pounding out of your chest. You felt sick with nerves when you finally looked up at Harry. "You- you have to promise me something." "Of course, baby, anything," he said, clasping your hands in his. "Promise me you won't... you won't think less of me, o-or love me less." "Of course I won't love you less," he leaned closer, and the look on his face was heartbreaking. He looked almost as upset as you. "Please, just tell me what's wrong?" "It's just- I've been thinking, for a long time now," you began, looking down at your intertwined hands when his gaze got too intense. "And I think- I think I'm bisexual," you whispered. You could almost feel the tension melting away from his body. "That's what you were so scared to tell me?" He asked gently. You nodded, still avoiding his eyes. "Baby," he ducked his head to look at you. You lifted your own, finally meeting his gaze. "Why did you think I would love you less because of that?" You shrugged, attempting to swallow the lump in your throat as more tears filled your eyes and your vision blurred. "Come here," he said soothingly, pulling you into his arms. You didn't even try to hold your tears back anymore, instead just letting them flow out onto his shirt as you wrapped your arms around his neck. He held you close, rocking back and forth gently as you cried. His heartbeat was the most comforting thing you had heard in a long time. Once you finally calmed down a bit, he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. "Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me this," he spoke softly, not loosening his grip on you. "I'm sorry you were so scared to tell me. Did you think I would be upset or something?" "No," your voice shook slightly with the remnants of your crying. "Not really. But my parents will be, and everyone else in my family. They'll tell me I'm wrong, and that they're disappointed in me, and... they won't love me anymore," your voice trailed off as you thought through all the possibilities. "I'm sorry," he sighed. "That's awful." You nodded. "Which is why you can't tell anyone," you looked up. "You're the only one who knows, because they genuinely might disown me," you said, fear evident in your voice. "Of course I won't say anything," he soothed, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "It's not for me to tell." You nodded again, smiling slightly when he thumbed away a stray tear on your cheek. "Thank you for being so supportive." "Of course, lovie," he smiled. "You can always talk to me, okay? You can always tell me anything, because I will always love you."

#Harry Styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles/you #harry styles/reader #harry styles/reader fanfiction #harry styles/you fanfiction #one direction #one direction fanfiction #coming out #bisexual

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