#christianity always felt like this to me- distant

[feytouchedtwilight]

“There was a time, Becket knew, when holy people were not safe. When they were not tame. When they were not the gentle shepherds, but the keepers of mysteries and the guardians of fire. As a priest, he turned wine into blood and bread into flesh—why had that ever become a tame thing, a safe thing? God was not safe. The numinous was not safe. So why then had he hemmed in his faith with safety? His hunger with rules? His zeal with bloodless, methodical praxis? He loved rituals, rites, and liturgies, that was unchanged. He loved the motions of them, the ancient words, the less-than-ancient words made to sound older than they were. But he’d been reduced by them, he saw now. Or perhaps not him personally, but his understanding, his relationship with God and belief. He’d hoped to wrestle it into submission, that relationship, and make it something that matched the way other people believed. He’d hoped to hide his zeal, stuff it into the corners of himself, bind it and lash it to his heart so it could never make it to his mouth to his hands and deeds. So that it could never make itself known. All he’d wanted, all he’d ever wanted, was to believe like other people did. Communally and pleasantly, and with glad hearts that could easily bear the distance between themselves and God. Not wild and alone. Chasing after God like an abandoned bridegroom. … Yes, the zeal was dangerous. Yes, it could consume him if he wasn’t strong enough. But he was tired of fighting it. Tired of pushing away love and sex and feral fun, tired of keeping his hunger for God locked in a box because he felt like he had to.”

~ Door of Bruises by Sierra Simone

[thesummerpetrichor]

𝓥𝓲𝓭𝓮𝓸 𝓰𝓪𝓶𝓮𝓼

Dads best friend!Javier Peña x afab!reader

Summary: For years he’d lived in your head like a distant memory. Something too good, too far away to attain. You shouldn’t be so hurt he’d left his old life behind, but how could you not be, when you had been such a big part of it? But you can’t hold a grudge. Not when he’s standing in front of you– doing everything to prove he’s not a stranger.

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI you will be blocked. Mentions of DEA, dads best friend trope, morally questionable relationship, minor angst, chunky age gap [reader is in her 20s Javi is in his 40s], banter, lotsa sweet moments, explicit language, explicit sexual content, couch sex, inebriated sex, cigarette and weed smoking, alcohol, dom!javi, sub!reader, pet names [cariño, baby, babygirl etc.], dirty talk, major praise kink! [lotsa good girl action iykwim] some over the clothes action, grinding, fingering, unprotected P in V [ do better!!]. Let me know if I missed anything!! <;3

Word count: 12.8k oops

A/N: Oof this took longer than I thought it would but I’m so excited for you to read it. Javier is the man of my dreams here 🥺. lotsa porn for you nasties. morally questionable relationship fr but it’s fiction so we’ll forgive Javi. I hope you darlings enjoy! Mwah 💗

Masterlist

Swinging in the backyard

Pull up in your fast car

Whistling my name

Open up a beer

And you say, "Get over here

And play a video game"

The last time you saw him you remember all but tackling him to the ground as he walked through your front door. He had bought you a special edition copy of your favourite Hans Christian Anderson fairy tale, and DVDs of ‘film noir’ movies– the kind your dad didn’t like you watching. You spent the days reading as he smoked cigars by your pool, and you remember your father joking about his ‘bad influence’ as he poured you drinks in the evenings. 

That was several years ago, and now all you had left of him was a hazy memory of that distant summer, a fading image of his golden eyes glittering in the setting sun, and your copy of “The Little Mermaid”. That had been the last that he’d visited you– before his work got in the way, before he decided he’d rather stay in Bogotá than come home. 

Your life had gone on, and while every year you wondered whether he’d make his grand appearance, as you grew older you came to terms with the realisation that it would just be you and your old man lounging on the patio on those treasured, warm, golden evenings. At university you were pursuing those dreams you always wanted to, the ones your father wasn’t so keen on you chasing, the ones you’d confess to him when he would drive you around the city–  to that faraway ice cream place no one else would take you to. 

He was all cigarettes and whiskey and secret promises.

“He’ll literally kill us, it's midnight.” It was too late, he was grabbing his keys and jacket, and despite your better judgement the thought of the fairy lights by the beach as you walked with your mint chocolate chip cones had you giggling as you followed him out the door. It was your 18th birthday. “He doesn’t need to know now, does he, cariño?” 

He’d telephone your father once in a while, you knew because your house would fill with laughter only invoked by one culprit. You wondered what adventures he was on, were they like the ones he’d tell you as you sat by his side till the early hours of the morning? You wondered if he even remembered– remembered you. 

But now you were in Bogotá, in the sweltering June heat, suitcase in hand, scanning the crowd for a face you barely remembered. You were scared, stupidly so, worried that your physical proximity would do nothing to mend his distance. You worried he wouldn't see you as he did before, wouldn't remember your inside jokes, your mischief, how you’d beg him to take you to that dance bar because your dad didn’t like you going alone. That he had somehow morphed into someone you couldn't recognize. You felt hot all over once again, and this time no thanks to the summer sun. 

Your head turned left to right, and you spotted among the crowd families reuniting, couples kissing hello, young people returning home, lone travellers, lonely travellers, and in the hustle bustle a black leather jacket walking briskly towards you. He looked older, and tired, but his eyes still sparkled the way you remembered, still turned golden when they met the sun. From the distance he spotted you, and you watched expectantly as his furrowed brows relaxed into a calm, almost surprised expression. You felt a little short of breath, felt suddenly larger than life, as he neared you, your mind spinning and hoping, praying that he was still the man you knew. 

“What have you done with my cariño?” 

He was looking down at you with that same smile. Everything about him was really the same. He still smelt like tobacco and cedarwood perfume, still wore the same leather jacket, the same faded, button up shirt– with the first two buttons undone. In a moment you felt your mind's eye reconstruct those waning images of him you once cherished, from the dells of memory. And now you saw him vividly, reclining in his chair, sipping his whiskey, leaning on your porch, hair falling in his face in soft curls as he lit his cigarette. 

He was a lot more handsome than you recalled. 

“Hi” You were smiling so wide your face hurt, and despite the years of his absence there was a familiarity you found comfort in, a sense of belonging, and maybe naively… longing. His hands moved to grab you by the shoulders, and he stepped back to get a good look at you, almost examining how time had passed. “Lookat’ ya, university girl now huh, smart cookie?” The way he looked at you had your heart pitter pattering– with so much pride, and gentleness, and adoration. 

Without any hesitation he pulled you into his chest, wrapping you up in his arms, holding your head against him. Waves of calm washed over you, an immediate reassurance you were desperate for. It was his non reluctance, his lack of worry, the way he brought you into his arms like nothing else mattered.  With a heavy sigh you collapsed into him, all the uneasiness you felt before melting away as you melted into his touch. He felt warm, and strong, and like you’d remembered. 

He was everything you’d remembered. 

You felt yourself relax. It had been a long day, a long time getting away from your father, who, despite the fact that you had been living alone for years now, had called you about a thousand times – reminding you to take all your things, to be careful, and importantly to not get into any trouble. 

If there was one thing everyone knew about Javier, it was that he was trouble, trouble, trouble. 

He was still smiling when he gently pulled away, still looking at you with the same enthusiasm. He was happy to see you. He chuckled as he let go of your shoulders, and you felt your chest swarm with butterflies when he grabbed you by the hand and twirled you around, and in typical Javier fashion produced a white lily from his shirt pocket, and tucked it behind your ear. 

“Welcome to Bogotá cariño” 

You felt your cheeks heat. For as long as you could remember you pretty much idolised him, and the longer you didn’t see him the more distant and adored he had become.  You had worked that distant memory up so much, the memory of that fateful summer, that he’d come to be a symbol of fear and dread in your head. At least until that moment.

You felt silly for ever thinking he’d be different. And there he was, standing right in front of you, putting flowers behind your ear. You mumbled a soft thank you, securing the lily, which was inadvertently an excuse not to meet his overwhelming gaze. 

“Your old man give you a hard time on the way up?”  

You laughed as you rolled your eyes. If there was one person who knew how much of a stickler for organisation and responsibility your father was, it was him. “He gave me an entire list of things to not do”. Javier’s deep baritone joined your laughter, and he shook his head in faux irritation at the mention of his best friend. 

Reaching down for your bags he leaned beside your ear, and you felt your heart race when you turned your head ever so slightly to meet his gaze– at that glimmer in his eyes, his mischievous smile, and raised brow. 

“Well, he’s no fun now, is he?” 

And with that he was heading towards the exit. 

—

I'm in his favourite sundress

Watchin' me get undressed

Take that body downtown

I say, "You the bestest"

Lean in for a big kiss

Put his favourite perfume on

Go play your video game

“He says I'm like you, y’know?” You leaned your elbow on the open window, knees to your chest as you sat curled up in the passenger seat of his car. His eyes were on the road, but his attention remained on you, and you were instantaneously reminded of your trips to the pier, your mint chocolate chip ice creams, and innocent secrets. 

You felt warm and fuzzy inside, and your eyes wandered the beautiful Colombian city –the colours, and the smell of summer flowers, and food as it wafted out of the mom and pop restaurants you passed. 

“Yeah, you a troublemaker?” He glanced at you momentarily, just in time to catch you rolling your eyes. “”M not, but he thinks Dora’s wreckless for wandering around without her parents.`` His laugh was hearty and he had that smile, that tilt of his head you were sure had all the women around him swooning. You felt your cheeks heat at the thought, especially when he chided you. “Cariño” he dragged out every syllable of that treasured pet name, shaking his head, and raising his brows in your direction, teasingly. “Okay.. maybe I like to have a little fun, but I’m still not like you.” 

Letting out an exaggerated gasp his head whipped towards you. “Fuck’s that supposed to mean?!” Your head was buzzing, he's still the same, the same. 

“I’m good.” He rounded the corner, and you couldn’t help but wonder who else had been in the passenger side of his car, getting this view you so cherished. You didn’t know why you cared, or why you were even wondering in the first place. It wasn’t any of your business, but somewhere deep down it made your heart ache. 

“I know you are honey.. Thought your dad was gonna’ have a fuckin’ heart attack when he called me.” You could only imagine. The poor man. The thought of him persuading Javier to convince you to stay with him for the sake of his peace of mind making you giggle. 

“Can you blame him? It was either you or Maria, and somehow you're the better of the two evils.” When you decided to come to Bogotá you originally planned to stay with one of your  close friends from university. She had offered you a room in her apartment for as long as you needed. The both of you had applied for the same summer program, and were looking forward to spending your vacation together. That was before you confessed that a certain somebody also lived in Bogotá. A somebody you weren’t initially keen on meeting again. Somebody you had planned to avoid at any cost during your stay. 

You weren’t really sure why– if you wanted to keep him away out of spite, or convenience, or fear, but all you did know was that when Maria had practically forced you to ask your dad to give Javier a call you were nothing short of petrified. She would not let it go, even said you’d regret not meeting him, better yet staying with him after how much you’d talked him up in the time you knew her. She was so confident she placed a bet you’d give up her house for his in less than forty eight hours. 

“I’m a cop, I’m the obvious choice here cariño” His confidence was charming. He was deceptively charming. 

“Yeah. A terrible one.” 

“Was a little shocked you wanted to see me..” sometimes you really thought he could read your mind. Not just in that moment, in fact he had a habit of hitting on right whatever you were thinking about, whatever was bothering you, things you felt you couldn’t tell anyone else because they wouldn’t understand. You were not sure if and how you wanted to respond, and if you did honestly whether he would know how much the whole situation had preoccupied you. 

“Strictly practical. Wanted to see if you remembered me..” 

“‘Course I remember you, been haunting me like a little ghost since I last visited..”. you thought you might just explode at his teasing. You asked yourself if he was being truthful, if he truly thought about you, about how he’d up and left. 

“You’re the one that disappeared into thin air!” Undeniably, despite the laughter and banter there was a tension in the air– floating between the two of you heavy and low. But what was he expecting?  

Thankfully, the car came to a slow and gradual stop at the side of a small side street, where you spotted a small glass door over which flowers blooming from the floor above had been cascading. “Where are we?” 

“Mint chocolate chip”  One hand on the wheel, the other grabbing his keys, he looked at you as he spoke, so matter of factly it made your heart flutter. Like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “No pier, or fairy lights though, and no thrill of running from your papa.” 

He remembered. 

Heart bursting with love ache, you weren’t really sure what to say. As if he had anticipated your fears he seemed like he was coaxing you into your natural rhythm. Reminding you he wasn’t some stranger whose house you were staying in out of convenience. That you knew him, and that he knew you, remembered you. 

“Thank god for the last one..” The memory fluttered between you two– the same thoughts, hovering between your heads. He was opening the door, taking a quick check of the traffic. You stayed put, finding your bearings. With one hand extended he beckoned you towards him, offering his arm when you hopped out the car on wobbly feet.  “Oh hush, you loved it, cariño. And he knew, I told him the next day.”

With locked arms you crossed the street, and as if no time had passed you had squished yourself to his side, and had smacked him against the shoulder lightly at his admission. “What?! Traitor!” 

“I handled it.” He sounded quite impressed with himself, and when you tilted your head and locked eyes with him you noticed how he looked quite impressed as well. You pressed your cheek against his arm, the leather of his jacket brushing against your warm cheeks.

“You were always the fun one.”

A large ‘OPEN’ sign stared you blank in the face, that was until Javier had gently tucked a finger under your chin, and delicately directed your eyes towards him. “He’s your dad, ‘s not supposed to be the fun one..” he softly remarked, his smile remained, and you felt nothing but warmth, and comfort from his presence. 

The moment fell naturally, and he reached forward to pull the door open for you, letting skip ahead of him and into the store.  “Feels like my 18th all over again.” 

—

It's you, it's you, it's all for you

Everything I do

I tell you all the time

Heaven is a place on earth with you

Tell me all the things you wanna do

I heard that you like the bad girls

Honey, is that true?

“You're the boss Peña, give me the word, and it’s done.” You caught Javier’s reflection in the mirror as you sat down to get ready. Fresh out the shower it took about three seconds for the summer heat to get back at you. He liked to keep his place freezing, and at times like that you could only be grateful– the cool air soothing your scorched skin. 

Carillo, Murphy– you could recognize the voices as they bounced off the wall, the same men you’d met when they barged into his home unceremoniously at six in the morning. You would have preferred to meet them in actual clothes rather than your pyjamas, and maybe outside instead of infront of your concerningly large cup of coffee, but they seemed to be used to finding unexpected guests in Javier’s apartment early in the morning. 

Regardless of the fact that they’d interrupted your quiet breakfast with Javier, they were really nice people. Carillo’s wife even sent some snacks over with him the next time he visited. One because she wanted you to try the local food, and two because “Javier had nothing in his kitchen.” 

“I will. soon as that dick Stechner gets out of my fuckin’ way” reaching to put you necklace on you watched as Javier moved out of your field of vision for a quick moment, returning with a glass filled with ice and an ashtray. What were they talking about? You never really asked about his job, you'd tried to talk him out of it many times, but he never budged. One day he hated it, one day he didn’t. 

What he was like at work was a point of endless curiosity for you– he just seemed so different. If you were being honest he seemed like an asshole. In the few times you’d seen him interact with his partners he’d barely cracked a smile, trading in his joking and teasing for curt jabs or looks of disapproval. He also admittedly liked ordering people around, telling them what to do. His phone rang about five thousand times a day, and each answered call was punctuated with an air of control, indifference, and the steady and constant confidence of a man who knew what the hell he was doing. And did not like to be questioned about it. The only people who seemed to break the ice were the two he was speaking to at that moment. 

“Javi, think this one through, don’t be fuckin crazy.” The voices drowned out as you put your attention back to getting ready. Maria was right. By the time you called her the evening of your arrival you had abandoned all plans to escape Javier's home for hers. She was in hysterics, endlessly pulling your leg over the whole situation. Your overthinking, your panic, your regret, and most obviously your complete infatuation. 

She had picked you up the next morning, and had impersonated you the entire ride to the university. You hoped that you didn’t sound the way she said you did when you spoke of him, that you weren’t all heart eyes. It only made you worried about what you sounded like when you spoke to him. 

With your bag tucked under your arm you grabbed your shoes off the floor, heading towards the dining table. “You got work this evening?” you were hoping he didn’t. His eyes lifted off his work to watch you shuffle around the small kitchen.  Opening the fridge you grabbed a bottle of chilled water, and leaned against the closed door as you spoke. 

“Depends if they call me in, they’re tracking some radio signals so we’re sitting tight till then.” He was leaning back in his chair in absolute exhaustion. Knowing that his day started around seven thirty, and never seemed to end, you didn't blame him. The few days you had been staying at his place he’d join you for dinner and be right back to work in a second. This job of his pretty much consumed him, and judging by his commitment you understood why he had no time for anyone or anything else. The guy was practically married to his job. His job and his co-workers, that is. You wouldn’t be surprised if Murphy and Carillo’s wives were envious of how much quality time Javier got to spend with their husbands. 

“So you’re staying up until they get back to you?” You didn't mean to sound so perplexed, but you were. Mostly at how unpredictable his hours were. Did he really want to leave the quiet, laid back life at home for whatever this was? He crossed his arms over his chest, and spoke to you in between puffs of his cigarette. 

“Yes, cariño, I'm in my forties, dont got a bedtime.”  The man could barely keep his eyes open, and when he lifted his glass to his lips you felt a little better about ditching him for your fun night out. Of course you wanted to sit with him, have him talk about everything under the sun, like he used to, but you didn’t want to be another thing he had to worry about. 

You barely got to speak to him outside meal times. If he stayed home, safe to say he’d be preoccupied, and if he didn’t it would be just you, and the white noise in his empty apartment, like it had been for the past four nights you had been there. 

The man looked like he needed a cup of tea. You reached for the kettle, pushing it on and leaning against the closed fridge door. “They tell you that at the old people's home?” Grabbing your buzzing phone off the counter you moved towards his surprisingly organised kitchen drawers, in which there was little besides some tea bags, coffee beans, jam, canned fruits and bars of candy. That combined with the eggs, bread and milk in his fridge came to make an almost comical representation of what most people would consider a bachelor's desolate pantry. 

Your eyes shifted to the illuminated screen of your phone, an unread message staring back at you. 

Maria: Leaving in five &lt;3

As you took the bubbling kettle off the burner you made a mental note, reaching for a cup, and a tea bag from the unopened box of earl grey you were pretty certain Javier did not buy for himself, rather became the owner of thanks to one of the nice old ladies who lived opposite him. 

“Somones in a mood today huh?” It was then you realised he had abandoned his work to watch you trudge around his kitchen barefoot in your little party outfit, one hand rested on his chin, one leg crossed over the other as he leant back in his wooden dining table chair. 

The teabag bobbed in the steaming water a couple of times, before you were pulling it out and tossing it in the trash. You grabbed his blue mug by the handle– some generic, machine made ceramic devoid of any personality, something you’d probably find in a show home. It looked like it had always been sitting on his kitchen shelf, only seeing the light of day every once in a while when he ditched his liquor cabinet for the coffee machine on the far end of the counter. Knowing him that wasn’t often.

“I'm kidding .”

“Well cariño I was thinking we could go to the dance bar tomorrow, but now I guess I'll have to stay home and rest my old knees.” He looked so surprised when you placed the mug in front of him, rested on a white paper napkin. It was almost like he had expected you to make it for yourself. The chair made a slight squeak against the floor as you pulled it back and took a seat, pulling his glass, now lined with the slight golden residue of whiskey, towards you. He was still surprised, a little taken back even, but not in offence, rather a tender, grateful smile tugged at his lips. 

“Since when do you dance?” With your focus no longer split between tasks you turned back to the conversation at hand. Making sure to emphasise you remembered just how uncharacteristic Javier’s little suggestion was. 

He took a sip of the earl grey, leaning forward and letting his shoulders fall ever so slightly. The glimmer of a distant memory played in his eyes as he met your gaze.“I don’t. But you do.” Your little reminiscence played in the back of your head like a movie reel, the soft sound of music from the dance bar by your house hanging in the air. As if transported into a distant dream you could see clusters of people twirling and dancing with the beat, like little ghosts behind Javier as he spoke. 

“And who am I going to dance with” When you said those words out loud you meant for them to sound a whole lot more utilitarian than they ended up sounding. Whether it was hope, or some odd suggestion you were in no mood to unpack where from deep in your subconscious that had come. All you could wish for is that he didn’t notice. 

“Plenty of people at the bar who’d love to dance with my darling.” And there it was, that answer you dreaded, delivered with that signature smile, with that warm, twinkling light in his eyes. “You don't have work tomorrow?” unable to bear the thought you moved along to more practical matters. 

He was already halfway through that cup of tea, and like his body was in the middle of some sort of spiritual cleanse you could see him resurface somewhat coherent and with eyes that weren’t half as dead as they were two minutes ago.“‘S friday, need the time off. Besides, I'd kick myself if I didn't make good on your time here. These fuckers still gonna be around when youre gone.” Sometimes you wondered if he was talking more to himself than he was to you. 

You felt a little buzzing in your purse, and you rummaged through it to find your phone. A text from Maria reminding you you needed to leave. “Yeah, you're gonna sit at the bar like a senior citizen while I have some fun?” 

Rising from your seat you searched the room for the last of your things. Notwithstanding the lack of time he had put into making the place home there were still small elements of him scattered throughout that little two bedroom. The fresh flowers in a glass vase on his centre table, framed pictures and art he’d been collecting over the years, small artefacts he’d brought back from his travels. It was so odd, the whole place stood suspended somewhere between home and a place far from it. Familiar yet distant. 

“Hey, they’ve got great drinks.”

He finished the last of his tea, and you picked up his mug and set it in the kitchen sink, running it under the tap water for a quick second to rinse it. Truth be told, you just wanted to sit and chat, and if half heartedly doing the dishes was going to give you a few more minutes with him you’d take it.“Don’t get too excited old man, I'm not driving us home.”

“I can take a few cariño, ‘m not like you.” You travelled to where you’d dropped your heels. 

“Slander.” pausing momentarily in the middle of putting on your shoes you lifted your head to find him looking back at you. His eyes had seemingly followed you all the way behind him, and he was still smiling. Had you not had one hand on his couch holding you in place you just might have tumbled over.  

“You be careful tonight, and don’t walk anywhere alone, especially if it's past ten. I know you– can't even read a damn map, so no wandering around, call me.” It looked like he had already given up on you, one hand rushing to his face to rub his tired eyes, the other plastered to the table. He was shaking his head the way he did when he caught you sneaking out your house one summer. 

“I’ll think about it.” of course you were going to call him, you didn't need an excuse. But you liked to see him all agitated, bossing you around like you knew he liked to do. With everyone, that is.

“No no, you're gonna call me when you get there, and you're gonna call me when you leave, and you're gonna tell me exactly how, and with whom you're gettin back.” You were already at the door, hoping to escape him, but he was yelling your name in that exasperated voice, and you heard him shuffle from his seat to stand up– catch you and drag you back in case that was necessary. 

“But-” Turning to meet his peering form over the wall of his living room you parted your lips, attempting to protest, playfully, but still protest, but he wasn't having any excuses. 

He was doing that thing where he looked at you with his soft eyes, slightly downturned, and the look could convince you to do just about anything, made you feel like you’d rather die than let them down. Anybody else’s nagging would have got you on your last nerve, but you only felt warmth, concern and care when he did it. Hell he could throw you off his roof and you’d still think the same. 

“No buts, no excuses. Thats final” You giggled, half because he sounded so much like a boring old man, and half because he was now leaning against the wall, with the top buttons of his shirt undone, and his hands on his hips, hair dishevelled from when he’d combed his fingers through it. 

“You sound like him..” With brows raised you looked at him expectantly, taunting him with your teases, and you nearly jumped out the door when he walked towards you, ready to grab you back to him as you escaped. Any insult was better than being compared to your dad, especially in this context. “Don't you say that, cariño” He was laughing, and you were laughing, and his otherwise quiet apartment building was now singing with an uncharacteristic gleam, a glow, a gaiety. 

Your shoes clicked against the floors as you scurried away, turning one last time to see him leaning against his door frame, shaking his head as he watched you skip into the night. “I don't make the rules old man”. You heard him chuckle behind you as you ‘sing songed’ your words, your heart fluttering when you noticed he waited for you to get outside before he closed his front door. 

–

It's better than I ever even knew

They say that the world was built for two

Only worth living if somebody is loving you

And, baby, now you do

“Thought I told you not to wander around alone, cariño.” You jumped, but it was too late, he had wrapped you up in his arms, and you were pressed up against his chest, and his voice was a low whisper in your ear. And you were dizzy. The alcohol in your system only partly responsible for your petrified squeak, wavering voice, and the way you swayed gently in his embrace. But when he kissed the top of your head ever so gently you could only giggle, recognising that warm hold, that faint smell of whisky on his shirt. 

“Psycho, you scared the shit outta me.” He was laughing when you turned around, exhausted, defeated almost, but his eyes were gleaming in the moonlight, and you felt yourself all but swoon at the way he was looking down at you.  “You’re lucky I'm the only psycho you ran into” Grabbing your face in his hands each word he spoke was punctuated with hyperbole, and a teasing disbelief. Your own hands shot up to grab his, and your cold palms thawed at the touch. You were sure you felt your heartbeat in your throat when his thumbs brushed the swell of your cheeks, you were sure he could feel the way they grew hot under his rough hands. “Just came out for a smoke, don’t go into cardiac arrest now” your fallen cigarette crumpled under your foot when you stepped on it, and in the midst of your eye roll you watched as he stepped back to look at you in faux disapproval. 

“Look at ya’, terrible.” He motioned his head towards the trampled butt on the ground below you. “Me? Terrible?” When you closed the distance between the both of you you stepped on it again, hearing it crush under your shoes, and shoved his shoulder playfully, poking his chest with your pointer finger. “Drinking on the job again old man?” Then he laughed again, this time at your playful yet truthful accusation, and the sound made you feel lighter than a feather. How could one person be so charming, so charismatic, at one in the morning? Like he was divulging a trade secret he raised his brow. “Keeps me awake.”

The blaring music in the club was muffled in the distance as you walked towards the steps of the church in front of you, the quiet and empty street echoing your footsteps. He walked beside you, kept you close on that pleasant summer night. When you turned your head your eyes caught a group of men huddled by a small food stall at the side of the street, hunched over some beers, smoking cigarettes. In the crowd there were two familiar faces. Steve was dressed casually, Carillo and the others in military fatigues. You wondered why he wasn’t walking in their direction, but judging by the look on their faces you concluded there would probably be a better time to do so. Besides, you weren't complaining, he was enough, he always was. 

They shot you a half hearted wave, and two strained smiles from across the road. 

Taking a seat you pat the stone ground beside you, watching as he looked around, almost willing someone to come into sight, one foot on the steps leading up to the cathedral entrance, wringing his hands. “What’re you doing here anyway?” You wondered what he had done that evening, but you knew you were better off not asking. You were glad to have bumped into him, and the last thing you wanted to do in your giggly half tipsy mood was have him explain something you were sure would keep you up at night. Not when he had that look on his face, his work look. 

“Waitin’ on an informant, but someone fucked up and well, we’re back at square one.” he was still searching the street when he bent down to sit beside you, so close your knees bumped. 

You felt your heart race a little when he pulled out what looked like a joint he had rolled moments ago from his shirt pocket, when he leaned back on his arm, lit it and looked up at the sky as he took a drag. You wondered if in your little emotional panic, your worry of his disappearance you had blocked out the memory of his striking, handsome face. You wondered if he had always been this beautiful, this captivating, everything he did set you on fire, the way he carried himself. 

“Smoke a lotta weed for a DEA agent.” 

He turned his head towards you, letting it fall lazily in your direction, and his hair fell in his face the way it did all those years ago, and he shot you that smile that felt like home. “Been a long day cariño”. He was looking back to the sky, but your eyes didn't leave him. He looked so tragic in the moonlight, half lit by its platinum glow. You weren’t sure if it was the liquid courage, or the fact that his shoulder looked more inviting than ever, or the fact that a cool breeze just blew by, and you shivered as it brushed your shoulder, but you leaned your head against him, and you felt your tummy erupt with butterflies when he placed a lingering kiss to your forehead. It was forbearing, and merciful, and you wondered if he had somehow noticed your girlish fawning, your silly admiration, and your heart dropped momentarily, but was soon resuscitated by his soft laughter. 

“Remember those cigarettes of mine you'd steal back in the day.” The breeze had picked up, and it’s cool was far more jarring when it kissed your hot cheeks. “‘S’not stealing… you knew.” you closed your eyes, and let yourself get lost in that comfortable memory. “yeah , could've told your papa” He was looking down at you, but you kept your eyes ahead, too intimidated to meet his gaze. 

“Didn’t” 

“Should’ve” His voice was a mumble beside you, and you found yourself thinking about your dad for the first time in a while, and you were instantly reminded the man you were so taken up by was his best friend, and almost twice your age, and saw you as nothing more than his buddy’s daughter. You stiffened against him. 

He took another drag of his joint. “If he was here right now his blood pressure would be through the roof”. A cold breeze tickled your skin, and he rubbed your shoulder gently and despite the murmured chatter in your head you couldn’t help but melt into his touch. 

“Darling, I can't believe you've been out this long.” He was laughing, and his horrible impression had you in a similar state. Conflict bubbled in your chest, each word slipping past his lips reminded you of your relationship, of your dad, and what he would think if he could peek inside your head, at your little thoughts. You felt guilty, but how could you hold that feeling? Not when he was shaking with joy beside you, not when he had his arm around you the way he did, not when you were tucked into his side, shielded from the winds. 

“You smell like a dingy bar” It felt so natural, your regular routine, the way it had always been, when your dad would say something funny, or outrageous, and the both of you would have a field day. It was well incorporated in your repertoire at that point, but the years apart had the memory sitting on a shelf in your brain, collecting dust. You remember when your dad made a terrible joke the day of your senior prom, and the two of you refused to let it go the entire evening. Javier had a vocabulary of his favourite phrases, and so did you, and you couldn’t help but pull them out every once in a while. 

“How am I going to survive you?!” You spoke in tandem, each letter dragged out with faux frustration, an uncanny similarity to your dad’s tone ringing in the air as your blended voices formed a familiar melody. It hung between you as he laughed heartily, and you wanted nothing more than to frame the moment, keep it tucked away where it would be yours, only yours forever. The starry night, a twinkling sky above you, the chirp of the crickets,  and perhaps your most treasured person, holding you against him. 

You wondered why he left, why he left you behind. Did he feel the same as you did in that moment? Was he happy to be there? To have caught you on your night out? After he’d called off his wedding all those years ago he’d become a rarer sight. You were too young to remember, and it wasn’t long after your parents got married. Growing up in your little town you’d heard he always had a reputation with women, but you never believed a word of the neighbourhood chatter. 

They were not the same person– the guy everyone talked about, and your Javier. While you’d never give him a break from the teasing, bringing up all the times you’d run into women in the streets, asking if you’d seen him, you could never really imagine him as the man everyone made him out to be. He was reckless, sure, and impulsive, and insolent, and a hardass, but he was also gentle, and thoughtful, and gallant.

At least he was to you. 

As if he could hear your thoughts, and they were so loud in your head you wouldn’t be surprised if he could, he broke the silence. “I wanted to come back cariño, but-” 

“But you couldn’t, I know '' There was no point going over what had happened and why, and while you incessantly wondered you knew it was a fruitless exercise. It was just how he was, he liked to up and leave, disappear, keep his distance, and you wondered if that had anything to do with you. But you didn't want to kill the moment, more for yourself than for him. 

“Glad you decided to come, cariño” It was like he was trying to convince you, of what exactly you weren't sure, but he sounded so earnest, so true.. and you felt deep down he was trying to make amends for his absence. Not just from you, but from the life he left behind. Were you an exception? Or a way to right his wrongs? mend all that had been pushed aside? You didn't know, but you’d worry about that later.

The winds had picked up, and the sky was gleaming, and for the first time in a long time you felt at peace. 

“I like it here, it's nice.” When you spoke he was almost surprised, but your words seemed to only widen his grin. He squeezed your shoulder gently. 

“Me too baby, me too.” 

— 

Singin' in the old bars

Swingin' with the old stars

Livin' for the fame

Kissin' in the blue dark

Playin' pool and wild darts

Video games

He holds me in his big arms

Drunk and I am seeing stars

This is all I think of

“Looks like they knew you were coming.” You swivelled the bar stool in your direction, hopping up on the seat. It was early in the evening, around seven, but the music was already going, and there were people on the dance floor, moving to the beat of retro spanish tunes. Javier took a seat beside you, still in his suit from work, shirt haphazardly tucked into his dress pants, tie loose around his neck. 

“Why?” the bartender placed your drinks on the counter, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at the fact that he’d stuck to his whiskey on the rocks. “They got the oldies on”. You were giggling, and while he wanted to pretend like he was far too tired to care about your antics he couldn’t help but crack a smile. There was a charm to it– catching a break at the end of the work week, the tranquillity of the weekend enveloping you like a safety net. One of you that is. 

Friday night was busy at any joint, buzzing with nightlife, food and drink. Somewhere along the way you’d gotten up from your seat and headed to the large empty space in the middle of the bar, where tables and chairs had been cleared to create a somewhat makeshift dance floor. Javier was right, while he sat sipping his whiskey you found plenty of dance partners. 

It was all easy, getting passed from one person to the other as the group formed a large circle. It was like you had disappeared into the crowd, bodies moving left to right in the dim green glow, only occasionally giving you a glimpse of the man sitting at the counter– face rested in his palm. Ask him to dance. These urges of yours were momentary, little private lapses of judgement that would only remind you of what was just not possible. 

When he’d take you out back in the day he’d have some minor injury to blame for his lack of participation on the dance floor, and when he didn’t he was “a terrible dancer” or “had too many drinks”. After a while you stopped asking. You realised you’d never really seen him dance. 

You had grabbed the hand of a stranger, letting them twirl you around– Javier was looking in your direction. For how much fun he liked to have you had come to recognize hardly any of it involved other people. Weddings, birthdays, barbeques. He was there. However, you’d always felt he looked at it as an obligation. A hi to the bride and groom, a bouquet of flowers, some meaningless small talk and he would disappear out the door. When he stayed it was solely in the company of a few familiar suspects– your dad being one. While he was often the subject of conversation, he was a pretty reluctant conversationalist. 

It was hot, and muggy, and if someone asked you where you were in the room you surely couldn’t place yourself. Forcing yourself out of the chatter in your head you looked up, noticing finally that your partner hadn’t changed in the past 10 minutes. 

He was looking down at you quite sweetly, he was actually quite handsome, your age, but he didn’t have a white button up on, didn’t have that sideways smirk. He wasn’t Javier. And unfairly, for that reason alone you didn’t want him. But who were you to say no to pretty green eyes, soft, delicate looking light brown hair, a black button up that wasn’t very buttoned up. Neither of you had the confidence to speak up, so you let him sway you side to side, one hand firmly planted on his chest.

You wondered what he really thought of you, if after this little visit he’d be more compelled to come visit, at least spare you a call. Would he disappear once again? Call your dad once in a while and ask him to deliver some impersonal message like ‘say hi to her for me’? You wished you could care less, but you knew you couldn’t, and something inside you told you he knew too. 

A firm arm wrapped around your waist, spinning you in the opposite direction, faces turned to motion blur as you turned on your heel. “Looks like a saved you, cariño.” He was twirling you, holding your hand in his and pulling you into his chest. He hadn’t really saved you but at the same time he had. He could pick you up from a field of lilies and drop you in a medieval torture chamber and he’d still be your knight in shining armour.  

What the fuck are you doing here? You wanted to ask, but you held back. You wondered what had prompted him on the dance floor. Did he think some weirdo wouldn’t let go of you? Had seeing you dance with someone else accomplished a task years of your coaxing couldn’t? You turned back, but the stranger had already disappeared, and Javier was directing your gaze towards him. 

As you had always suspected he was a great dancer, and he sure as hell liked holding you close as you moved along the dance floor. The songs ran over the decades, and he’d often sing lines to you– smiling and pulling you towards him. He looked so handsome, lights reflecting off his face, his smile tired, but earnest, and wide. You almost couldn’t keep up. 

“Danced your energy away?” Picking up the pace once again you twirled around him, unwilling to give in. “No! Why? your back needa rest?” You watched him laugh– shake his head and grab you by the hips. “Sure you didn't cariño.. Can't keep up with an old man?” Voice raw from yelling over the music, you pulled his leg. “Think I heard your knee pop.” His raised brow only aroused suspicion. “Oh really?” Before you could even respond his arm had hooked under your thighs, and his hand was on your back and you were being lifted into the air. “Oh my god!” Your own arms flung around his neck, both your laughs floating between you as he spun around. 

It felt different and not because something in his head had dragged him out onto the dance floor. The way he was looking at you, the way he just couldn’t let go. It hurt your heart more than anything you’d ever experienced. The pain was conflicting– the love ache and the hurt. Did he know how much he meant to you? Did he even care? Something in your heart told you he did but you chalked it up to innocent hope. 

The music slowed down, and you heard emerging from the stereo a familiar tune. 

You’d hum it all the time, so much so it would drive your father nuts. In the kitchen, while doing chores, sometimes as you read by Javier’s side. On the weekend when you woke up early to help cook breakfast it’d be the first song on the playlist. You recall how he’d watch you dance around the kitchen, truth be told rather ungracefully in the mornings– spatula in one hand, kitchen towel in the other.They played it at some wedding once, and your friends had bounded to the dance floor with you just to ensure you didn’t miss a note. You were running so fast you all but collided with him, and he had to catch your falling form as you stumbled towards your best friend, shouting a quick “sorry” as you bounded in her direction.  

He remembered. 

Words were useless when you looked at him the way you did. An expression of surprise, confusion, realisation, all at once, a smile tugging your lips, your doe eyes gazing into his soft brown ones. And his arms were around you, and you were pressed against his warm chest, and you were gently swaying to the beat of the music. 

“Looks like they knew you were coming.” 

It felt like a blip in time, but it would’ve been hours. People came and left, all around you groups of twos and threes and tens, but you stayed, and he stayed. Smiling down at you, holding you tight. You were a little light headed from it all, feet fighting the urge to take a little break. You just couldn’t let go. 

Plopping down on the bar stool you let your cheek hit the cool marble of the counter. Your legs felt like wet noodles, trembling when you finally sat down. You weren't really sure where Javier went, but it felt like an eternity he let you lay there with your eyes closed. Every second was one hundred times longer when he wasn’t holding you. His arm was firm around your waist when he finally helped you out of your seat. You realised he’d been standing only about two metres away the entire time. 

“Let’s get you home, ‘s late.” He had picked your shoes up from where you’d abandoned them, his own blazer draped over his arm– the one you weren’t hanging on to. With closed eyes you let him lead you out into the night, all your weight firmly supported by his broad shoulders, your stumbling feet only stabilised when he tucked you into his side. 

Unintelligible to anyone but him, and muffled by your yawn and cheek pressed against his upper arm you slurred your words as you spoke. “Past your bedtime?” 

He chuckled to himself, placing a soft kiss to the top of your head, his voice a faint murmur– the last thing you really remember hearing.  “Yes cariño, past my bedtime…” 

—

It's you, it's you, it's all for you

Everything I do

I tell you all the time

Heaven is a place on earth with you

Tell me all the things you wanna do

I heard that you like the bad girls

Honey, is that true?

“You been drinkin’ my whiskey….” He was leaning on the table, waving the glass you left out in the air, holding it between two of his fingers. He wasn’t upset, rather looked quite amused. You rubbed your eyes, making out his smile from a distance.  “Couldn't sleep.” Peering into the room you were staying in you were sure he saw your blankets bunched up on the bed where you had been tossing and turning for hours. Your eyes caught the clock on the wall. 

1am. 

It had been a long day. Being assigned to a new supervisor proved to be a real curse. He was quite a piece of work. Patronising, condescending, everything in between. If that wasn’t enough he rejected your proposal, and asked you to submit a new one in two days. God knows you had a lot on your mind. 

The kitchen cabinet swished when he opened it, bringing you back to the present. “God, you really are like me huh?” He still had his jacket on, but judging by the look on his face he needed a drink first. The couch dipped as you threw yourself on it, and you turned over its back rest to watch him move around the kitchen. 

“I had like one shots worth, with like a whole glass of water, so not like you.” Curled up under his plush throw blanket you sank into the cushions, eyes following him as he sat down beside you. With a deep sigh he leaned back, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index. “Fuckin’ hell” 

“Long day?” He picked up the joint he’d just rolled from the side table, groping for the handle of the drawer to grab a lighter. “Can say that..” It was just another night for him. You were lucky you heard him pull up outside, and had got yourself to look somewhat presentable so you could see him at least once that day. Granted that involved nothing but putting on a bralette. 

Maybe it was the fact that it was late, or that you had such a shitty day, or that you just couldn’t help yourself anymore, but you leaned against his chest, snuggling into his side as he took a drag. “I would try and talk you out of this job, but I think I've exhausted all my arguments..” You twiddled your fingers, just wanting to melt into him and disappear. 

“I don’t think there’s anything else I could do.” You shivered, his fingers tracing shapes on your upper arm. “Couldn’t do whatever it is you’ve been doing…” redirecting your gaze from your lap you looked up at him. “Sometimes it feels like I can’t either” He was looking ahead, voice low and rumbly, and just what you needed to hear. 

“You’ve got time, got one’ve my lifetimes ahead’ve you” He pulled you closer, head resting against yours. “Don't say that” You poked his side lightly, hearing him chuckle beside your ear. “Oh yeah, now those jokes gettin’ to you?!” 

Stewing in a comfortable silence you let yourself ease into his embrace, willing your mind to shut up for the time being and enjoy his company. The way he was holding you– so much more delicately than he ever had before had your heart clenching. “Tell me your day was better than mine.”

His words cut through the chilled air, and your heart soared at the thought that it even mattered to him. “No, sucked.” to anyone else you would have responded with a simple ‘it was good’, some white lie to avoid further questions, but you couldn’t lie to him, he’d figure it out one way or another. “My supervisor’s an asshole..”

Nothing was more comforting than the kiss he placed to the side of your head.“‘m sorry honey” He offered you his joint– seemingly having deserted his agenda of being a good influence in favour of apparently celebrating your mutual disappointment. You felt your cheeks heat. 

“I've never smoked before.” 

Gasping comically he whipped his head towards you. He tapped your nose with his index, pinching your cheek and giving you possibly the most suspicious look he could muster. At least he tried, because his smile peaked through the interrogative exterior. “You little liar.” The gesture had you jumping to defend yourself. Shifting to meet his drooping eyes you almost knocked him over as you plopped on the couch, letting him wrap his free arm around your waist to steady you. “No, promise!” You leaned your forehead against his, your eyes gazing into his in an attempt to convince him. Despite his disbelief you were indeed telling the truth. 

“Oh really? Been drinkin’ too, trouble.” his hand snaked up the nape of your neck, cupping your jaw. It was then you realised just how close you were to him. Your eyes flickered to his lips momentarily. When you realised he had beat you to the task you were convinced you were hallucinating, or had somehow gotten high off the second hand smoke. In pain, you were in utter pain, unveiled and unprotected– subjected to his piercing gaze. 

Painfully aware of the tension that had settled like a thick cloud over you, your voice came out small and strained, but also hopeful. “‘M not trouble….could be though” 

The tightness in his jaw was something you couldn’t ignore. “Yeah, I know” In a moment of bad judgement, or in hindsight good judgement you decided you knew what you needed to do. You were exhausted of having to wonder. You were exhausted of asking questions, exhausted of his absence. You slung your leg over his thighs, lifting yourself onto his lap Leaning against his firm chest you peered up at him through your lashes. 

“Baby, careful”  You knew this time those words were not for you, you knew he was fighting the urge to gather you in his arms. You could see that look in his dark eyes– hungry, and hot. You could feel him, hard against your cotton panties. He bent down to press his forehead against yours, your noses bumping. “Cariño, you don't know what you're doing.”  His actions were in direct contradiction to his words, his large hands cradling your soft cheek, pleading you to put him out of his misery. But you were selfish, like he had been all those years ago, and you needed him to put you out of yours. 

���You don’t want this, Cariño” He swiped his thumb over your bottom lip. He was doing that thing again, where he was talking more to himself than to you. But couldn’t let him decide what you wanted, because for years you’d let him convince himself you’d wanted to keep your distance to maintain his own conscience– to make him feel better about how he’d disappeared from your life. 

“I know what I want..”  You didn’t mean to, but you were pouting, and despite your best efforts to speak with conviction you couldn’t help but come off a little pleading, “show me, please.” surely he knew you weren’t just talking about the weed. 

His lips ghosted over yours, and you could just about burst into tears the way he was looking at you. He probably noticed the way your chin wobbled, the way your doe eyes blinked away from his. Because in a moment you heard him sigh heavily, painfully, and apologetically all at once. 

And he was kissing you. Soft and slow, and gentle, and benevolent and like everything you’d ever hoped for. He tasted how you’d always imagined– like whiskey and cigarettes and everything in between. Like home. His thumb stroked your cheek gently until you pulled away, glossy eyed and wobbly on his lap. 

“Want me to show you what?” And here you thought his eyes couldn’t get any darker. He mumbled into your lips, voice commanding and steady– everything you weren't. He grabbed the back of your neck and guided you back towards him. Threading your fingers through his hair you let yourself get lost in the shelter of his hold. You felt as though he could pretty much eat you alive, the way his lips were moving against yours– suddenly hot and soft and needy. 

Heart racing you chased his lips with your own, but he steadied you with his hands, amused at your zeal. “Gotten all worked up now have we?” You couldn’t help it, you tried, tried to sit steady in his lap, but you just couldn’t, not when you felt his cock, twitch against your clothed pussy. 

You rolled your hips against his, watched as his head fell back against the couch. The crease between his brows only persuaded you to continue. “Shit baby, tryna kill me?” barely audible, his rasp had you bracing yourself with your hands planted firmly on his chest. You dragged your hips again, leaning down and tugging the fabric of his shirt. He reached for the joint he’d abandoned on the side table, bringing it to your lips. 

He observed you greedily. “That's it, good girl.” His voice had never sounded more strained than it did in that moment, watching you take a drag, eyes glossing over. The praise had your heart fluttering, you’d do just about anything to hear it again. Smoking wasn’t helping either of your causes, because it only made you press your pussy harder against his clothed crotch. This time his hips rose slightly to meet you, and he cursed lowly under his breath. Already unable to maintain control. 

Taking another drag he leaned back, letting you rub yourself against him, eyes screwing shut every once in a while, just like your own. He’d bring the joint to your waiting mouth every now and then, revelling in the sight of you getting more and more desperate with each puff. 

“dirty little girl..” you whimpered at his words. “rubbin’ that drippy lil pussy all over my lap.” You looked down, only to find a dark spot on his grey jeans, for where you pressed yourself against him. Incapable of stopping your movements you continued, relishing how the friction eased the throbbing between your legs. “Yeah? few drags got you all achy cariño, got you squirmin’?” 

He was watching you, and you could make out his intense gaze through your fluttering lashes, his eyes scanning you up and down, then fixing on your face of strained pleasure. “Tell me how good it feels, Cariño” His palms smoothed up and down your thighs, harsh and slow, and exercising all the self control he could muster. It was difficult to answer, a response bubbling in your throat before you were incoherently blurting it out. 

"Feels so good..” whining, you grabbed the fabric of his shirt in your fists, bouncing on his lap lightly to feel just anything against you, you wanted more, lust and intoxication clouding your judgement. “Please, need it, need it so bad” Losing all sense of restraint one of his hands reached for your hips, squeezing and gripping firmly. 

He dragged your already rolling hips against him, sliding you against his clothed crotch to the point you couldn’t help but let your legs fall limp, your forehead press against his shoulder. “Need what?” You could feel the tick in his jaw where it was pressed up against your cheek. 

His hand slipped between your bodies, moving your soaked panties aside to feel your wetness. You shuddered when you felt him against you, grinding down on his hand. “Fuck, look at that. So fuckin’ wet for me babygirl.” 

“Need you inside me, please.” Nosing his neck you pressed a kiss there, mouth falling agape as he rubbed your clit, fingers teasing your entrance, just barely pushing into you.  “Like this?” If your laboured breaths were any indication you couldn’t take it much longer. 

You wiggled your hips, trying to bear down on his digits, but he pulled away only to squeeze the inside of your thigh. ““Gettin’ to you already? use your words baby” he was taunting you, your little ‘no’s making him smirk against your shoulder as he went back to sliding his fingers along the cut of your pussy. “What do ya’ want me to do to you? Tell me babygirl.” You knew the sweet talk was only meant to encourage you, and while it worked you couldn’t help the way your cheeks burned when you replied. 

“Want your cock inside me. Want you to fuck me.. please … need it” 

Now that he listened to, fingers pulling away and tapping at your lips. When you gazed down at them you could see how wet you really were– having drenched them in the little while he’d had his hand in your panties. Obeying you parted them, letting him slide them into your waiting mouth, sucking gently, the taste of yourself heady on your tongue. “Good girl.” Even though he looked quite composed on the outside you still noticed the way he swallowed thickly when your tongue ran along his digits. 

“Want me to fuck the cute lil pussy?” you shook your head vehemently, and he chuckled at your enthusiasm. “That's my pretty baby.” he kissed you like he wanted to devour you, frantic, and urged, voice so rough it came out almost like a growl. His hands roughly grabbed your hips, flipping you to lay back against his couch. In a moment your sleep top and bralette had been discarded, in a pile on the floor alongside your shorts and his own clothes. 

Slotting himself between your legs you looked down to where his fingers were tracing the inside of your thigh. You gazed up at him, upper body lit by the dim orange light of the side table, broad shoulders slumped as he admired the sight of you– on your back, in nothing but your panties, all for him. As he slowly pulled them down your legs, he sure seemed to relish the way the fabric of your cotton panties clung messily to your wet pussy.  

“Poor thing, just need someone to take care of you don’t you?” It was less of a question and more of a declaration, and undoubtedly it made you feel open and weak. How could you not feel that way? There you were laid out in front of him, every part of you exposed, his toned torso being the only part of him you could really see thanks to the half lit room. It felt like if he looked just a little closer he’d be able to see right through your naked body– and into your scrambled thoughts. 

His index teased your dripping hole, briefly dipping into you and coming back to rub soft circles on your clit. Gasping, your fingers flew to grip his wrist when you felt him slide his cock against your cunt, tip teasing your sensitive nub ever so slightly. “Relax babygirl, be good for me.” Bringing your hand to his lips he peppered your knuckles with kisses, willing you to ease into the cushions as he draped himself over your body. He grasped your face in his palm, kissing his reassurance against your forehead as you felt him line himself up with your leaking entrance. 

You mewled at the stretch of him, at how hot you felt against him as he eased himself into your soft pussy. “Shit- so fucking tight-” his stopped for a second, like he was willing himself not to split you open with one quick snap of his hips. “can barely fit my cock in this lil pussy.” Leaning in your lips searched for his. He let you melt into him, fingers brushing against your side as if to calm you down. 

It was so much– his weight on top of you, his hips slotted between your thighs, forehead pressed against yours. You could feel every pulse, every throb, every ridge of him inside you, nudging those spots you could never reach yourself– and he wasn’t even moving yet. 

When he did start moving you couldn’t help the whimper that slipped past your lips. Your fingers digging into the flesh of his biceps, pulling him closer. You needed him, pressed up against your rising chest, holding you. “I know cariño, I know.” His right hand squeezed your waist, “Feels so good doesn’t it? Yeah feelin’ all full?” 

His voice was so sweet, like honey, warm and sultry in your ear. You nodded a quiet ‘yes’. He cradled your face in his palm, nose nudging yours gently. Mumbling his own rhetorical “yeah?” he kissed the underside of your jaw. For the first time he felt as close as he physically was, big and thick inside you. 

You were drowning in his arms, enveloped by them, cocooned in a bubble of heat, and low breathy sighs, and his lips ghosting over yours as he thrust into you– hard, but slow, and deep.  “That’s it, just like that–” he picked up his pace ever so slightly. “Such a good girl.” His words were gruff, and stuttery and his breath tickled your ear whenever he spoke. 

Feeling the drag of his thick cock against your pulsing walls your eyes struggled to focus on him above you. He on the other hand seemed to have no trouble fixing his gaze on your trembling form. “Makin’ me feel so–” he brought his thumb to brush the swell of your cheek, “fucking good, baby”. Your head buzzed at his praise, burning face turning to rest in his palm. 

With your back lifting off the soft cushion you reached to pull him impossibly closer, wiggling your hips to meet his thrusts. “More, please, please.. Want it” you couldn’t recognise your voice, not when you were begging him, watching his eyes twinkle. “Yeah? Need me to fuck this pretty pussy harder?” you nodded– feeling embarrassed enough at his smirk of surprise to hide your face in his neck, but not enough to stop begging. Another soft “please” barely falling from your mouth.  

Rising slightly he grabbed your hips, holding your thigh against his side. Your tilted hips granted him a whole new angle, and before you knew it you were throwing your head back, letting it fall against the upholstery. “You want that, don't you baby? Need me to stuff you full of my cum?” You could only respond with your sounds of pleasure. 

He pushed you against the cushions, hovering above you to drive himself deeper, watching you turn into a moaning incoherent mess– your whimpers and whines bouncing off the walls and only exhilarating his pleasure. “That's right cariño, I gotcha’” one hand squeezed the flesh of your hip, then travelled up to brush against the exposed column of your throat– fingers tracing your skin before he was leaning down and placing sloppy kisses against you. 

“gonna fuck this pretty pussy till she’s dripping with my cum.”

He must have noticed that dumb, hazy look in your eyes when propped himself back up, still fucking you till your hips pressed into the sofa’s cushions. “Fuck, nothin in that head of yours huh?” You made out his smirk of pride as you jostled around, trying your best to keep your eyes on him as he moved above you. 

It was far easier said than done. Not when you could feel his cock against your throbbing walls, could hear his scruff groans whenever he felt you clench around him, not when he was looking down at you with his furrowed brows, and sweat gemming his hair– which’s curls had been ruffled out of place from when you’d ran your fingers through them. 

Especially not when he shifted ever so slightly, and you felt his tip brush that sensitive spot inside you you didn't even know you had. Javier cursed above you, feeling you squeeze his cock. “that the spot huh babygirl?” he watched the way your eyes fluttered shut, face scrunching in pleasure as he hit it over and over and over again. 

Your head lulled from side to side, your body in overdrive and completely overwhelmed at the sensations. That was until he was cupping your cheek in his palm, tilting your face in his direction. “Use your words for me.”. But you couldn’t, parted lips struggling to form anything coherent besides soft, little whines. 

His hips snapped in a deep, slow thrust. “Say it..” Your eyes were barely open, and you reached and tried to grab him closer, but he stayed above you, unwilling to budge as he slowed to a complete stop– waiting for you to voice your needs. “Yes-”

He mumbled against your lips, nipping, and kissing. “Good girl, my good girl.” To that you nodded, back arching as he drove you closer and closer to the edge.  Every part of you singing at his touch– how he kneaded and squeezed your hot flesh. 

The coil in your belly only tightened and tightened, and you suddenly felt too vulnerable, too exposed to meet his hooded eyes. Turning your face to the side you let the plush throw blanket hide your hot cheeks, burying your face in it. “Look at me, wanna see your pretty face.” It was an instruction. One he expected you to follow like all the others. 

You didn’t think he’d notice that hitch in your breath, the way you did the opposite and smashed your face against the soft fabric. It was all too much, and he was fucking into your soaking pussy, and his hands were roaming your body, and you could feel his skin brush yours, and you were dizzy, and overwhelmed and you could scream and–

And he was slowing down again, just enough to where he kept you on that edge, to where you could savour every bit of him inside you. – “Cariño, look at me..” God he sounded so tender, coaxing you out of your daze just enough to the point you shook your head ‘no’, whimpering and turning only further away from him. 

He kissed your cheek, cooing at your overwhelm. Not to mock you, rather he sounded quite endeared, prideful even. “Baby” Nudging his nose with yours you felt his thumb rub soothing circles against the apex of your cheekbone, urging you in his direction ever so slightly. Your eyes fluttered open, just barely, only to find him smiling down at you. 

“There’s my girl.” 

“Need you to look at me when ‘m fuckin’ you.” He held your face in place as his hips met yours, slow and languid. No part of you was left untouched, his kisses adorning every inch of your exposed skin, lips coming to press against yours every now and then. It was like he could see through your nakedness, and the thought terrified you to no end, made you feel small and defenceless, and had your sensitive cunt squeezing his cock.  

“You close honey?” When you nodded your nose bumped his, and he laughed before he was kissing you gently. He brushed the sweat from your brow, voice so mellow yet in control. “Cum for me baby-” You felt him deep inside you. So so so close. ”Wanna feel you cum all over my cock” 

It rolled over you, slow and intense and deep, in waves. He held you close, cooing at your trembling frame, holding you against him. “'M here cariño, I gotcha, just like that.” Groaning, he watched your eyes struggle to remain open, rolling back into your head as he fucked your throbbing cunt. “That's my pretty girl.” 

His own hips stuttered, thrusts becoming sloppy as he neared his release. Still experiencing the aftershocks of your orgasm you felt him fucking into your warm, pulsing pussy. You felt his cock twitch inside you before he was filling you up with his cum, a strained curse slipping past his lips. 

Ears ringing you registered him catching his breath above you, but it was all too hazy for you to make out. All you really knew is that he hadn’t let go of you, hadn’t abandoned you on the couch to smoke a cigarette or pour himself a drink, instead he was peppering your face with little kisses. “ ‘m so proud’a you cariño– did so well for me.” 

Pulling out he slid his hand under your back, flipping you over so you were snuggled into his chest. The cold air from the open window could barely touch your skin before Javier was throwing the blanket over you– keeping you warm, close. 

You were still in your daze, but even as you lay on top of him, drifting in and out of a deep slumber you couldn’t shake the worry that when you opened your eyes he would be gone. 

That he would have traded you in for the comfort of his bed, or worse would have disappeared into obscurity once again. The thought only stung more as you felt his cum leak out of you, mixing with your own to drip down your thighs obscenely. 

You never really knew if he regretted it, if he wanted you for sure, if he liked having the weight of your body against him. Flinging your arms around his neck you tugged him impossibly closer, burying your face in his neck. A silent plea to stay where he was. You didn’t care if you seemed needy, or clingy or pathetic. 

It was like he knew somehow, like your thoughts floated to him after you’d thought them. And as always there was no explaining to do, no questions to answer, nothing to say. His embrace was safe, and secure, and unwavering. “close those eyes for me cariño mìo” He planted a soft kiss to your nose, his arms tightening around you, palms rubbing soothing circles on your back. “‘m right here babygirl, not goin’ anywhere….”

You did. And he didn’t. 

It's better than I ever even knew

They say that the world was built for two

Only worth living if somebody is loving you

And, baby, now you do

Now you do

Now you do

Now you do

Now, now you do

Now you do

Now you do

I would also like to add that we are engaging with this concept solely in the realm and interest of fiction. This type of situation is a huge red flag. While the reader is seemingly consenting and enthusiastic there is a huge power imbalance between her and Javier. He has also known her her whole life and has been a significant part of her childhood. Engaging sexually or romantically in a relationship like that is creepy gr*omer behaviour. I used their past as a narrative device because this isn’t real, but please be aware of your media consumption, and that dynamics between characters in fic are vastly different from what is healthy, and ethical in real life. 🫶🐝💗

I really hoped you lovelies enjoyed it!! Please let me know what you think, I'd love to hear it! Thank you to everyone who reblogs my work, you keep me writing. Dividers and banners by @ saradika 💗🐝✨

[sweeterhoni]

i hate it when my brain functions differently when i'm in class, also, a snippet of a wip that's based on this brainrot

non-idol au . childhood friend!jake x afab!reader . R18 MINORS DNI!

a/n: this is suggestive. this isn't like me but this.. phew i need to breathe before writing more

before reading more, this fic is mixed with a religious theme and i'm so sorry bc this might just be straight blasphemy 🙇‍♀️ .

jake never knew what changed, you stayed nearly the same so there wasn’t much to highlight on you. jake never paid attention to you, he grew up with you and maybe that was enough to justify his distance. but was it? or maybe that became his favorite excuse to use when people keep asking why the two of you weren’t stuck together.

but what made him come up with excuses? what made him distant? what changed? – these were all the questions that pondered his mind. jake doesn’t have any answers despite this ‘operation: stay away from y/n’ has been going on for months. he just knew he had to have his distance when he felt himself getting hard around you.

it wasn’t hard. thanking your faith and focus in your religion to an extent where he started to attend church services again, but you were there. you were always there, and maybe his quick glances to your direction were enough to satisfy the torture he’s been putting himself through. but did he really have to go out of his way to attend your services when sunday was his only free day?

jake was a star in your university. people drool over him, they devour him and he indulges in it. you once joked he almost acted too similar to an incubus who feeds off the sexual energy from people, and he laughed and rebutted with “maybe that’s why you never felt anything sexual? is it? because i’m a, quote on quote, incubus?”

and ever since that day, jake could never put you out of his mind. you were devouring him unknowingly.

﹉﹉﹉

it was a sunday.

jake suited up, wearing his white long sleeve polo shirt that perfectly hugged his broad shoulders. he tucked it in his grey slacks, defining the inverted triangle shape he hides under sportswear and his uniform. it always felt like a sin to show up to the church subtly flexing every woman’s dream but does he still have any shame? when his mind defines lust when you show up in your dress that reminds a nun. you were always picked to pray for any services, requiring you to wear the white dress and veil the ‘baby nuns’ wear.

seeing you in it, jake always wanted to start a religion. a religion where you praise him, and devote to him the same way you devote to christianity. it wasn’t like him at all to have these sudden urges that just revolve around you, his life was soccer and academics– but you were becoming a part of it if you won’t stop whatever this is.

he was an hour earlier, just in time to watch you pray.

he wanted to defile you right then and there when you kneeled, your eyes closed, and your head perfectly angled as if you were doing this for the entirety of your life. he struggle to sit properly when you show no struggles in kneeling upright with your head bowed, and with the way the veil only shows a bit of your well-kept hair, jake knew he had to keep himself from acting out the events playing in his head.

he wasn’t even praying, all he did was fantasize about you.

a half of an hour passed, and he watched when you rose with ease. jake had his eyes fixated on you, it mesmerized him when you didn’t wince from kneeling that long and oh did he want you kneeling before him. he ached to see you be obedient when it wasn’t for him.

he wanted to shrug off these thoughts, maybe the praises were getting to him, but maybe it’s just you when these same thoughts never occur towards anyone else. he sinned again. you were his childhood friend, both of you grew up following the same religion, you were too religious and it would physically hurt him if he continue to think of you in that light but it just felt right.

“jake?” thank god then for your calming voice who snapped him out of the trance. “yes?” he replied, masking the lust he now clearly feels for you, “are you alright?” he was. he was alright before all these thoughts come to him, now he wasn’t. he watched how your lips rested in a pout, waiting for his answer with furrowed brows that show worry “of course, why wouldn’t i be?”

jake realised how he might have looked when fixating on you, not an ounce of guilt in his body as he chased a high.

“your brows were furrowed, it looked as if they’ll be sewn together.” you spoke with worry laced in your voice, you watched as he drew in a sharp breath. you figured he was just worried for the captain tryouts next week, so you nodded in understanding “ah! nevermind, you might be too worried for next week’s tryouts, but i’ll cheer you on jakey!”

and there it is.

even if you never tainted dirt, you were sultry. the way you said his childhood nickname felt as if it was the last straw, he had to get out of there. he had to get away from you. so he shamelessly used it as an excuse to leave, leaving you a pat on the head– “you’re right, you were always so bright my dove! i have to go, there’s an unscheduled practice today, be a good girl. for me, okay?“ and oblivious to the second meaning, you nodded your head.

“i’ve always been a good girl, for you and for the church.”

that left him hanging. it was true that you were always good, you were the epitome of an angel. some even call you that when you turn your back, you were always good. you were too innocent.

and it drives him insane how you agree to everything he says. it drives him insane how easy you comply to him. jake just wanted you, and if he wanted– you would already be in his bed but it all felt wrong when he caught sight of the pastor the two of you grew up with.

“i’ll go then. i’ll see you on wednesday, and wear the jersey i gave you, alright? that can be your way of cheering me on.” of course it was just another excuse to drive people away from you. he wanted you to wear it as it acted like a silent agreement, albeit one-sided, that you were only his to devour.

[pulisicsgirl]

not going anywhere - christian pulisic

summary: after Christian (and several others) notice how Y/N hasn't been herself for the last few weeks, he finally decides to confront her about how she's feeling

pairing: Christian Pulisic x reader

word count: 2.3k

warnings/tags: established relationship, angst, discussions of mental health and illness, mentions of meds, supportive Christian, hastily proofread

requested: no

notes: Hey there!! This has been sitting in my draft for probably 6 months and I wanted to put something out, so I tried to finish it and make it at least decent for y'all! I promise I'm trying to work on your requests and I have several halfway written, but I've just been struggling in the writing department all summer. Thanks for being patient with me! If this fic is a steaming pile of garbage... pretend you didn't read it

x

It hadn’t gone unnoticed by Christian that you hadn’t been yourself lately.

Your relationship was fairly new, having only been together for a few months, but as attentive as Christian was, he recognized the little things that had shifted in your personality.

He noticed how when you smiled at someone, it never quite reached your eyes—the little wrinkles that usually appeared in the corners were absent. He noticed how when you laughed, as soon as you thought no one was looking, the grin on your face quickly faded, replaced by the absent and distant look that adorned your face so often recently.

He noticed that you would zone out far more often than usual, eyes unfocused as you stared at a distant point. When he caught you in this state, Christian would tangle his fingers with yours or gently place his hand on your thigh, drumming his fingers in an attempt to pull you back from wherever it was that you would drift off to.

He was concerned, to say the very least, but each time he tried to bring it up to you, you dismissed his concern with a wave of your hand, chalking it up to being tired or overworked.

It didn’t take long for others to notice the change, too. As a prominent member of the media department at Chelsea, you had a friendly relationship with many of the players. You were often on the training pitch or on the sidelines at games, snapping photos of the boys as they played. Often, you would mess around with them, cracking jokes and laughing along with them, but not recently.

The joking had been cut to a bare minimum, and you rarely interacted with them at all. You spent just enough time on the training fields to get the content you needed before leaving to work in your office, unseen for the rest of the day. Several of the boys had asked Christian about you. They missed you. But Christian didn’t know what to tell them.

Finally, Christian decided enough was enough. He would have to “corner” you in some way and get you to talk to him. He had wanted to let you have your space and respect your desire to not talk about the matter, but he could see the whole situation physically weighing on you, and he knew that if he continued to let you bottle it up inside, you were going to explode. He resolved that by the end of the day, he’d talk to you.

That night, you had come over so that the two of you could have dinner together. Most of the dinner was spent in silence, you lost in your own thoughts, and Christian trying to work up the nerve to ask what he needed to. He wasn’t sure how to approach this kind of conversation with you—the two of you hadn’t dealt with a situation like this yet in your relationship.

Once your plates were cleared, you stood in his kitchen, washing the dishes, despite Christian’s protest that he could do it later that night. He sat on the counter, wanting to still be in close proximity with you. His heart broke a little when he noticed that you weren’t humming like you always did when you cleaned.

You rinsed off the last dish, placing it on the drying rack with the others, and you were rinsing the leftover suds from the sink when you felt Christian’s arms slide around your waist. He pressed his chest to your back and rested his chin on your shoulder as you turned the sink off, drying your hands on a towel.

“Can we talk?” He spoke softly and placed a kiss onto your shoulder.

You felt your heart sink in your chest. You knew this conversation was coming, but you were hoping to postpone it as long as you possibly could. “Yeah, what’s up?” you tried to speak casually, downplaying the nervous feeling that had settled in your stomach.

“C’mere,” he whispered. You dropped the towel on the counter next to the sink as Christian pulled you to the side where he had been sitting before and turned you around in his arms. He placed his hand on your hips, lifting you to sit on the countertop.

For a moment, the two of you remained in silence. Christian stood between your legs, unsure of what to say first. He rested his hands on your thighs, rubbing the bare skin below your shorts soothingly. Your heart pounded so quickly in your chest that you swore he could hear it as he stood in front of you. You desperately tried to calm yourself, still determined to play things off if you could manage it.

“So… um, you… you haven’t really been yourself lately,” he stumbled over his words and mentally cursed himself for starting so poorly. “I just… I’ve noticed a lot of little things that seem different, and you don’t really seem… happy.” He glanced up at your face, trying to gauge your response. He felt a little guilty for being so direct with the situation, but he didn’t want to keep dancing around the problem.

You drew in a breath, but Christian spoke again before you could. “And please don’t tell me that you’ve been tired, because you keep saying that, but I think it goes beyond that.” The nervousness you felt only intensified, and now you felt slightly nauseous, knowing there was no easy way out of this conversation.

You brought one of your hands up to your mouth, biting at the skin by your nails. Christian recognized the nervous habit of yours and he saw how you used it to try to put space between you and him as a form of defense. He reached up and took your hand in his. With a gentle but firm tug, he pulled your hand back into your lap and looked at your face with earnest concern.

You hesitated a moment longer, looking anywhere but at his face.  Sitting in front of him, your hands held in his, resting on your thighs, you had never felt so vulnerable and exposed. He stroked his thumb over your knuckles, squeezing your fingers in an attempt to pull you out of your thoughts and back to him.

The silence between the two of you was long and overwhelming as your head spun with wild thoughts. Did you continue trying to put a wall between you and tell him nothing was actually wrong? Or did you open up to him, tell him what was really happening, and run the risk of scaring him off?

“Come on, I can practically see you getting lost in there.” He poked your forehead gently with his free hand, laughing softly to try to relieve some of the tension in the air.

You glanced up at Christian’s face, and his gentle, reassuring smile brought tears to your eyes instantly. Looking back down at your lap so he couldn’t see you beginning to cry, you settled on trying your best to explain the thoughts that had been swimming around in your mind for the last couple of weeks.

“I don’t know, Christian, I just… kinda get this way sometimes.” You shrugged your shoulders. It didn’t make sense to most people, but it was the reality. “Nothing really happened. Everything is fine. You didn’t do anything. I just… I feel kinda hollow.”

Christian was relieved to hear that your pain hadn’t been cause by something he had done, having toyed with the idea as he wracked his brain for the last weeks, trying to think of what could have gone wrong to make you feel this way. But he still wasn’t sure he understood exactly what you were saying.

“I used to take meds for it, but I stopped taking them a little while after I graduated high school. They made me feel like I wasn’t really myself, and I didn’t want that anymore.” Your still fidgeted nervously as you opened up to him, but at the same time, the weight on your shoulders felt the tiniest bit lighter as you let Christian bear some of it with you.

Christian remained silent for a moment after you stopped talking, processing the things you had just told him He thought he was beginning to understand what you were saying, though your vague description left several questions swirling in his mind. He was happy, though, that you finally felt comfortable opening up to him, and he figured the finer details could wait until another day.

His silence, however, did nothing to calm your racing heart.

“So, I guess this is the part where you leave?” you whispered before you could even think about it, uneasy with how quiet the room had gotten. Your eyes were glued to your lap, and Christian’s hands froze at your words, where they had been smoothing over your knuckles, trying to soothe you.

“W-what?” he stuttered in surprise, heart sinking at the thought that you might be breaking up with him. When you finally looked up to his face, his eyes were wide, eyebrows knitted together in confusion. He looked so hurt that you almost felt bad for saying it in the first place.

You took your hands from his as you began to pull away from him, picking at the edges of your fingernails, fixing your gaze downward again. “I’ve done this before, Christian,” you mumbled. “I get weird, you ask about it, and then once you find out that I can’t be fixed… you leave.” You sigh, having resigned yourself to the outcome that had played out in your life before. You sat there, feeling defeated, with your shoulders slumped.

A sniffle coming from him causes you to dart your eyes up to his face, and his eyes are misty as he fights back the tears that he can feel welling up in them.

“You really think that?” his voice quivers.

All you can muster is shrugging your shoulders. “That’s what everyone else did. I’m not worth the trouble.”

Your words shatter his heart into a million pieces. The pain of thinking you were ending your relationship vanished quickly, replaced with a new kind of pain at the realization of how you had been treated in your past.

As the first tears slipped down his cheeks, Christian pulled you into a tight hug, holing you as close to his body as he could muster as he buried his face in your neck. You felt the warm tears against your skin as you slowly returned the hug, caught off-guard by his actions.

Christian felt a bit silly. Here he was, crying on your shoulder after the things that you had just revealed to him, experiences that you’d had in your own life. He just couldn’t fathom that anyone could possibly treat you in such a way. You were the kindest, most gentle and caring woman he had ever known, and he truly believed that you deserved the world. Sure, it had been hard to see you in the state you had been in for the last few weeks, but he knew what he was feeling was nothing compared to what you were. And it never would have even occurred to him to think of you as burdensome—to think that he needed to “fix” you in some way.

Christian drew back from the embrace, quickly wiping his eyes while he still held onto your waist with the other. You were caught a bit off-guard by his behavior, never having experienced this reaction before, and you weren’t entirely sure what it meant.

Christian breathed a soft “I’m sorry” before he looked back up at you, cradling your jaw in one of his hands, and you couldn’t help but lean into his comforting touch.

“Y/N, you are absolutely worth everything. It’s not a burden to be with you. You know that right?”

Tears quickly sprung to your own eyes at his words, and you cast your eyes back down to your lap. In an honest answer, you shook your head ‘no’. This was how you had always thought of yourself, and you constantly felt like you needed to be compensating your partner in some way for the things they had to put up with for your sake.

Christian’s other hand came to your cheek, holding your face gently so that you would look him in the eye.

“You’re not a burden Y/N,” he spoke softly, his eyes flicking over your face. His expression held a sort of desperation—aching to show you that he truly believed what he was saying. “You’re not, I promise. And I’ll spend every day for the rest of my life telling you that until you believe it. I’m not going anywhere.”

Your heart fluttered at his words.

‘…every day for the rest of my life…’

He wanted to spend the rest of his life with you?

Marriage wasn’t something the two of you had really talked about yet, because your relationship was so new. But any time you thought about your future, you knew you wanted Christian to be in it. And knowing he felt the same way meant the world.

You felt Christian’s thumb brush across your cheek, wiping away the tear that had fallen. You could only stare at him, wondering to yourself how you had managed to find someone as perfect as him.

“I’ll always be here for you. Anything you need,” he smiled at you, feeling that he was finally getting through to you.

The only response you could muster was a soft, “okay.”

“Yeah?”

You nodded.

The relief Christian felt that he finally had some understanding of why you hadn’t been yourself over the last few weeks was nearly overwhelming. He pulled you toward him, pressing a firm kiss onto your forehead.

“I love you so much, Y/N. Never doubt that.”

tag list: @landoslover @thoseboysinblue @lovelynikol16 @swimmingismywholelife @masonsrem @bracedes @neverinadream @lizzypotter14 @notsoattractivearenti @chilwellspulisic

[bellewintersroe]

Max Verstappen X Celeb Ex!Reader -Angst.

Reader and Max broke up only 3 weeks ago so feelings are still extremely fresh. Now she’s at Silverstone as a celebrity reporter, pinned with the task of interviewing her ex-boyfriend. With the whole world watching, the pressure on each of their shoulders is immense. Part 2?

I felt the blood drain from my face when the name I was sworn I wouldn’t even have to think about today was mentioned. “What?” I breathlessly spoke, dropping my papers onto the table below. I felt an anxiety like no other rush through me, a sickness that caused my head to spin.

“We just need you to do a quick 5 minutes with Max.”

“You- you told me I definitely wouldn’t be interviewing him?” I held my hand against my forehead. “I know, but this has been arranged for the past few weeks, ah, before the um- parting was announced.” Paul, the Sky CEO and my current manager explained, trying to dodge around the work ‘break up’ as much as humanly possible. “Oh god.” I tensed my jaw, staring down to the ground whilst I gathered my thoughts- my twisted, scrambled thoughts. Max and I had one conversation since we broke up, and that was to publish the breakup announcement, even then the conversation lasted no longer than 3 messages each. Talk about awkward. Now, I’d been hired to do a bunch of celebrity and driver interviews at the Silverstone Grand Prix, what I did two years ago when I met Max originally.

“I’m sorry, but he’s pole, it’s how it always works.” He sighed. “No, I get it.” As badly as I didn’t want to do this, I knew I had to be professional or Sky wouldn’t hesitate to replace me. I was starting to question if that was actually such a bad idea? “Just… can I at least have some alcohol beforehand?”

“I can give you all the alcohol you want once the interview is over.” The time came where I had been walking up and down the grid, purposefully skipping the area designated Red Bull despite me being friends with half the people there. Max, I knew he was around, and I couldn’t bare to bring myself to go over there despite talking to the grand majority of other drivers. “Okayyyy, y/n, and now we have to go to Red Bull, we need to speak to Max, we’re running out of time.” Lizzie, the coordinator for the day had to push me more than usual. I’d spent a little too long speaking to other drivers that I’d known for years. Lizzie rarely had to interrupt, but on this occasion she’d cut my interview with Oscar short, and rushed me away from Lando before he could give me a hug and make me cry by asking how I was doing.

“Okay.” My palms were sweating as I attempted to wipe them on my black, short dress. The dress fit 3 weeks ago, but recently I’d been having to tie the bow around my chest tighter and tighter. The flared arms were somehow even baggier, and although I felt good, I knew there would be a lot of twitter comments at the end of the day pointing out my weight loss.

I was purposefully walking slow, eyes darting from person to person. Could I at least bump into Daniel or one of my friends before? Christian Horner, force him to talk about Red Bull’s strategy for an hour, Checo- ANYBODY, just not- “Max Verstappen, there he is!”

Fuck. My stomach churned when I saw my ex boyfriend making his way over. It felt like something stabbed me in the chest as I had to force myself to breath again. He was so familiar yet so uncomfortably different, like I’d seen him just minutes prior, yet it was nearing a month. His eyes landed on mine and I could see the immediate way his breath got caught in his chest.

I felt stiff as I held the microphone up, seeing all three cameras steadily pointed at us, indicating this interview had already begun. I didn’t even have time to compose myself. “Hello!” Max perked, moving forwards to give me a quick hug. Again, his touch felt so familiar but so coldly distant. His palm was flat on my back for about a second as I barely touched him with the microphone in my hand. How was I once so excited and giggly to see a man that now sent a wave of anxiety rushing through me.

“Hi Max! Thank you for speaking to us.” I awkwardly made the most forced smile, I couldn’t look at him, I was looking anywhere but his eyes. For the first time all day I’d followed the script word for word. “Congratulations on P1, how are you feeling for the race today?!” As I held the microphone out towards him I could see the way it trembled with my hands. It was embarrassing, I hoped he’d just take the thing out of my hand.

“Uh, same as always.” Nervous, excited? He didn’t get to do our pre race handshake- I wondered if he thought about that?

“Looking forwards to it, as long as it all goes as smooth as it did yesterday, I’m quite confident with our team strategy today.” He nodded before quickly speaking again. “How are you?” He cocked his head to the side, for the first time I made real eye contact with him now. Horrible, I regret our decision, no distance is too far, I haven’t eaten properly in 3 weeks- I miss you. “I’m okay!” My voice cracked, it couldn’t have sounded any less convincing. “Excited to be here, such a nice day as well, I think everybody’s glad the rains stopped.” I forced another laugh back to the camera men who nodded their cameras in unison. “Hopefully the conditions stay good like this all day for you.” I offered him a quick nod as I saw him swallow harshly, his eyes focused on me.

“We can make this work… I want this to work.” His words I remembered remained heavy on my chest, stinging my heart as I looked back to him now. That familiar sensation of guilt trailed through me as I then remembered his offer to come live with him in Monaco, how I’d been so absolutely foolish to decline. “Yeah, I hope so, but you know I don’t mind racing in the rain. It always rains at home.” The semi personalised answer had my chest fluttering as a more genuine smile grew on my face. “Until you all skid off the track.”

“Luckily I don’t plan on doing that.” A small breath of laughter escaped my mouth. “Hopefully not.” My eyes fell to the ground when I realised where I actually was. For a moment I’d got a little caught up before quickly returning back to the questions.

“Well I think you’re being called over now Max, but thank you for speaking to us, good luck for the race today.” I offered him another smile as he reached out, rubbing my back a little with a quick, “thank you, y/n/n.” Before hurrying off to where he was being called to. Just like that he’d vanished and suddenly not interviewing him anymore felt 10x worse than the anxiety beforehand.

“Brilliant, a little awkward at the end there, y/n/n but as always thank you for doing that with us. Now time to relax.” Lizzie attempted to choke but all I could do was bite down on my lip. I felt like I was going to be sick, “uh- I just need a second.” I think she could tell by the look on my face something was wrong. I’d darted through the grid, past endless celebrities and familiar faces to lock myself in the bathroom and burst into tears. Holy fuck, it was uncontrollable. I felt an overwhelming sense of regret over Max and I breaking up. How oddly normal it eventually felt with him there, yet how sickening it was knowing he was no longer mine. It was by far the worst heartache I’d ever been through, and being exposed to him a mere 3 weeks after breaking up felt all wrong. When I’d emerged, the race had already started. I’d walked out pathetically wiping my eyes, a couple women asking if I was okay, stunned that y/n y/l/n, famous actress had just been sobbing her heart out in the grid toilets. I was not having a good time, and if it wasn’t for a bunch of my close friends being there I would’ve left.

Plus, there was one upside to being here as a guest… the free alcohol.

[jamminvroomvroom]

i feel like you'll see the vision really well with this one

a lil flash between , reader comforting lando after (tw) bahrain (telling him he is not in fact a shit driver/things will get better/etc) , and then having an i told you so moment after silverstone

LOVE THIS!

fluff, angst

-

silverstone, july 2023

you stood at the back of the garage, counting down the laps until you’d see his face, watching as the team prepared to scale the pitwall and welcome him back, the people’s winner of the british grand prix.

you knew what he was capable of, you’d always known and now he was proving it, just like you’d said he would.

and when you saw that smile, that elated, heart stopping smile that beamed all the way into space as he shook his messy curls out, bahrain was a distant memory.

-

bahrain, march 2023

“i can’t do it.” lando was pacing the cramped space of his drivers room, like a wild animal forced into a cage. “i should have broken the contract when i had the chance.” he muttered.

“hey, hey, stop that.” you were firm with him when he got like this. “over my dead body were you going to redbull to be christian’s bitch.”

he paused briefly to shoot you a glare.

“the car is shit, the team is going to shit, the new kid was up my arse the entire race. i cannot fucking do this.” he ranted, agitating himself further.

“okay, leave oscar out of this. you were the new kid once.” you reminded him. “sweetheart, if anyone can drag that shitbox back to the front it’s you.” you waved your finger at him to emphasise your point.

“back to the front? from p fucking seventeen?” lando was raking his hands through his hair now, furiously anxious. you hopped down from his massage table where you’d been swinging your legs, jumping into his path.

your hands found the flushed skin of his face, thumbs smoothing over his cheeks. his eyes squeezed shut, refusing to meet your gaze.

“baby, look at me. look at me, lando.”

slowly, his eyes fluttered open and you wanted to cry. you could see the storm raging, his eyes damp, ready to flood.

“you will come back from this. you will fight this and you will win. i will watch you win.”

-

lando was sprinting towards you, your body flush against the cool metal of the barricade. your eyes were watering, your smile painfully huge, even when he wrapped his arms around you and kissed you harder than ever. he pulled you close, tight, lifting you off of your feet. the barrier between you did little to restrict you, nor did the obnoxiously excited chants of the team, the sea of papaya surrounding you.

“you did this for me. you brought me back.” he whispered into your ear as you felt your feet touch the ground once more.

“it was all you.” you smirked at him.

“i know you wanna say it, so you might as well.” he teased.

“i told you so, you idiot.”

[ladyvictory22]

Fall into Temptation (V: Renaissance)

"In the garden of storms, the roots of redemption intertwine, blooming with the promise of a rebirth after the tempest."

Endings are not always happy; sometimes, they need work, many things need fixing. It took Christian a while to understand, but he realized that after the hurricane, after being distant from Toto and coming back together, they had to work to stay united.

Initially, the atmosphere felt tense for them. It wasn't about winning a battle; they didn't feel like their love had won because the remorse was still there.

That was something they had to improve. Despite the Grand Prix events flowing smoothly, they still had the habit of meeting in secret, as if someone would discover them. And they did have to hide because everything that happened hadn't come to light.

To make things flow organically in public, their separations would occur with a time differential of months or even a year. Toto would announce his public divorce first, due to Susie's commitments in Formula One and because she would be reconnecting with her ex-husband, revealing the lack of affection.

However, before all this happened, everyone was taking some time to process everything and leave behind the remorse and regret, just to get up and move on.

Since Toto suggested that he could stay at Christian's house, it was a pretty appropriate idea. Christian liked to wake up feeling an arm around his waist, feeling Toto's breath on his neck.

There were times when he woke up with kisses that Toto left on his neck, which then turned into kisses on the lips. And if they were in the mood, which was almost always the case, it ended up becoming a panting and heated mess.

So, in a way, while everything is settling into a new order, they are living their own honeymoon.

Sometimes Christian feels that things may be moving too fast or that they have become quite accustomed to being domestic. Perhaps it has to do with the fact that in the Grand Prix events, they stay together.

Although it's a bit different now, Christian has taught Toto how to feed his animals, with some grace, as Christian never imagined Toto Wolff with animals around him, yet there he is, helping.

One thing Christian truly confirmed is that his partner is really afraid of cats. Toto can approach any of Christian's pets except his cats.

So, Christian had set himself the task of making Toto overcome his fear of cats, so he came up with a plan.

They hadn't talked to Geri about the distribution of their pets, at least the ones at home. They had two dogs and two cats, so they had some idea of how it would be.

Venus is usually a calm cat that sometimes needs brushing, so Christian thought Toto could help with that.

"Is this a joke?" The Austrian said, watching Christian pet Venus.

It's not that Toto runs away when he sees a cat, but he keeps them at a safe distance.

"Come on... Venus is affectionate and sweet, she won't harm you," said Christian, pushing the brush toward Toto.

Toto gave a look, resembling a terrified and angry child at the same time.

"Don't look at me like that," said Christian, holding back laughter.

"Like what?" Toto said.

"Like a forced child," Christian smiled.

"I feel like one," murmured Toto.

Then Christian gave him a kiss on the cheek.

"If you don't try, that fear will never go away," he said.

Toto sighed in defeat, took the brush, and started brushing gently. The cat started purring, stretching because she liked it. Maybe for a moment, he felt the cat would pounce on him, but fortunately, it didn't happen.

"Have you never tried touching a kitty before?" Christian asked, watching the scene.

"Honestly, no. I used to be the type to say 'No means no,' and that's it. No one used to contradict me," he replied.

"Well, what a coincidence... I'm someone who contradicts you," Christian said, stroking Toto's arm.

They both smiled, and a little kiss.

The next days were fun for Christian, as Venus approached Toto, and he could see how gradually the fear or apprehension disappeared. Soon, Toto had Venus sleeping in his lap.

"It seems like you guys have become friends," Christian said. "Now you're going to have to get used to cat hair on your clothes, love."

Toto huffed in response with a half-smile.

~~~~~

It's not that they always spent time together, most of the time they did, but they also needed to dedicate time to their children. Explaining why they were no longer with their mothers, though it was something they would understand as they grew older.

Bluebell was probably the most complicated for Christian. Maybe Geri had never mentioned anything about it, but he felt very guilty. When they talked after Geri left home with the children, Christian became too emotional. All he said to his daughter was, "Forgive me," and she kindly just hugged him and said everything was fine, even though she ignored what had really happened.

With Olivia and Monty, it's different. They are kids, there's a different way to explain, but they are quite mature, and they don't get upset about it. When they are, they say it.

With Toto, it's different. His older children understand the situation a bit better. They looked down on Susie, but they didn't want to pry, especially out of respect for their father and stepmother, so they waited for the news to come.

But Jack was very different. He used to ask a lot, and sometimes Toto really didn't know how to answer. And on those days when he couldn't answer so many questions, Toto would just gently hug Jack, telling him that he would always be there for him.

~~~~~

They didn't bring their children together quickly; they waited for some time. First, they had to get to know them, so everything was slow and turned into a personalized introduction for each child.

Christian doesn't know if he's really paying some kind of karma with Olivia, since his little one not only looks exactly like him but also tends to... play pranks like him. She usually responds to jokes with other words. She's a very clever girl.

So one day, she managed to make her father nervous and embarrassed. That day, she got to know Toto more personally, having already seen him in the paddock when Christian took her to the races.

But she hadn't seen him in the way she sees him now. Toto gave her a gift, a lamp that, when lit, reflected stars and also rotated.

There, the little one noticed something, how her dad looked at Toto and how he smiled when Toto gave him his gift. Maybe in the past, she had seen that look between Geri and her dad, and her dad also looked at Geri with affection.

But she understood that they were no longer together, and now her dad had fallen in love with someone else. Little Olivia, who watched movies about princesses and fairy tales, for some reason compared Christian's gaze to that of a princess.

So, while they were eating after playing, and she saw her dad talking to Toto, the girl spoke up.

"You two look like a princess and a prince," said Olivia.

"Sorry?" said Christian, smiling with curiosity. "Why do you say that?"

"Because you remind me of Cinderella and the prince at the ball. You look at each other just like they did," the girl said, taking a bite of her dessert.

Toto smiled upon hearing that; he found it sweet. But when he looked at Christian, he saw the man so embarrassed, Toto held back his laughter.

"What things you say, Olivia," said Christian, trying to hide his embarrassment.

Shortly after, the girl would approach Toto stealthily.

"Can I ask you something, Toto?" said Olivia.

"Yes, tell me?" Toto smiled kindly.

"If you marry my dad, can you dance with him to the Cinderella and prince song?" the little one asked.

Toto smiled.

"Do you want me to marry your dad?" Toto said, surprised.

"Well, that's what couples do, right?" the girl said. "But it doesn't matter if it's not at a wedding, I just want to see you two dance to that song."

"I promise it will be at a wedding then," Toto smiled.

And maybe it won't be a wedding any time soon; that's something they would have to talk about in the future. For now, they had many things to resolve.

~~~~

On the other hand, it was Christian's turn with Jack; they went for a walk together. Christian realized that the boy would be a great pilot from the way he talked about cars and his interest in MotoGP.

Certainly, it was evident that he was the child of two sports enthusiasts. The little one resembled both parents; sometimes, it was as if you saw Susie, and other times, it was as if you saw Toto. The sweet side that Christian knew of Toto still came out when Jack was around; sometimes, it seemed like he wanted to protect him from everything, which Christian found endearing.

There was a moment while Toto went to buy some snacks for them that the boy approached Christian to speak directly.

He had asked many questions throughout the outing, if he had children, what his name was, what his dad was like at work.

But there was something Jack had to ask Christian, and he found the moment.

"Can I ask you something, Christian?" the little one said.

"Of course," said Christian, smiling kindly.

"Can you promise me that you will take care of my dad?" the boy said, taking Christian's hands.

A gesture very similar to Toto's, which made Christian smile with tenderness.

"Yes, I promise I will take care of your dad," he said, gently caressing the small hand on his.

"And me too?" the boy smiled.

"Yes, Jack, you too," he smiled.

The little one then gave him a hug.

"What are you two talking about?" Toto asked as he approached.

"Secret things," Jack said. "You can't know.""

~~~~~

It turns out that children can see beyond in someone's gaze; in their innocence, they say things just as they think them. Both Christian and Toto felt fortunate to have the children they had.

Both thought that this stage would be difficult, but it wasn't. It was just them with their thoughts. And in a way, it was normal, considering everything that had happened.

~~~~~

So gradually, they could bring their families together. They often went out with Monty and Jack, and it turns out that both kids got along very well. Sometimes there were outings to the beach, walks, and during one of these outings, Jack called Christian "Dad Chris" for the first time.

~~~~

Amidst the idyll of bringing their families together, or at least getting to know each other, the shift from their bittersweet ending to their happy ending, the moments when they were romantic with each other couldn't be lacking—sometimes with the help of their own children.

Christian remembers the time he arrived at his office in Milton Keynes and found a bouquet of red roses with a small note:

"You are the sweet illusion I dreamed of."

Immediately, Christian knew it was probably Olivia's idea, although he was surprised to hear that it wasn't.

He didn't go home that day; there were days when they took turns and stayed at Toto's apartment.

When Toto opened the door, Christian showered him with many kisses.

"Mmm...hello," Toto said amidst the kisses.

"Hello to you too," Christian smiled.

"Someone liked their roses," he grinned.

"I loved; I love you," said Christian. "I guess that phrase came from Olivia."

Toto smiled.

"You'll be surprised to know it wasn't from her," Toto said. "Apparently, Jack and Monty were discussing what phrase someone might say to you someday, and they decided this phrase would be good." Then Toto took Christian by the hips. "And I couldn't agree more."

Christian smiled with tenderness. "Wow, kids... well, they're right."

"At this rate, they're going to want to plan a lot of things," Toto said.

"I believe you."

They both laughed and then joined their lips in a sweet kiss.

Slowly, it led them to the bed; Christian sighed as he felt Toto's kisses on his neck, leaving small licks and bites as the clothes gradually came off.

On some occasions, everything started more relaxed, with slower caresses, feeling the warmth of each other's bodies, kisses becoming slower, feeling more.

Toto slowly moved down, leaving kisses all over the abdomen, until reaching Christian's pelvis. Then he would open the younger man's legs, kissing his thighs gently, causing Christian to moan satisfied.

Gradually, everything began to heat up, and when Toto entered Christian and moved just touching the younger man's sweet spot, he elicited sweet moans that were like music to his ears.

Christian then started with his usual marks, which Toto longed for him to do. Although something had changed, and it was that now Toto could mark him, he could do whatever he wanted.

And so he did, when they were reaching the climax, Toto bit Christian's collarbone, making him moan from overstimulation and climax again. Toto smiled at the fact and kissed a dazed but ecstatic Christian.

~~~~

The connection between them had only grown; it took them a while to get used to the idea that now they could be more freely intimate.

But the change in their lives was helping them stay in sync.

Although, while the part with the children was a challenge with a certain degree of difficulty, there were other challenges where everything increased.

The news of their divorces.

When Toto and Susie's separation was announced, there were more than a few media outlets in the middle of a Grand Prix talking about the couple's breakup, seeking statements.

That didn't bother Christian much, considering there would always be some journalist of that kind.

What he didn't like, and he doesn't know why really, was those media outlets already pairing Toto with either a businesswoman, a pilot, or a model, creating stories where their hosts introduced him to these girls. God, Christian couldn't help but feel angry and more possessive.

Sometimes these behaviors were reflected when he was with Toto. He would get angry, not want to talk too much, not understand why he was upset with Toto when he knew the reality of things.

But the mental image of seeing his partner talking to women who think he's single bothered him. What bothered him more was knowing they might be right to approach; Toto is a handsome man and always attracts attention...

So, it was one of those days when Christian was upset just because of these things, and he couldn't get it out of his head. For some reason, he responded in a very rude manner to Toto.

But Toto remembered that they had talked about this in the past, about communicating, so he was going to figure this out.

"Let's talk about what's bothering you, or you'll keep being rude," Toto said straightforwardly.

"I'm not upset," said Christian, checking his papers.

"Yes, you are. I want to know why," the older man responded.

"It's something... absurd," Christian didn't look at him, especially out of embarrassment.

"So absurd that it makes you bother and be rude... to me?" Toto said.

Christian sighed.

"Sweetheart, what's wrong?" Toto said, taking Christian's hands while kneeling in front of him.

"It's just that... sometimes certain news can be annoying," Christian said, looking away.

"What news?" Toto asked.

"The ones that say you're with models or very beautiful women..." Christian lowered his gaze and sighed. "And then, you know, I compare myself and wonder what people would think if they knew..."

"I would let them know that I'm with such a handsome man..." Toto interrupted.

Christian looked at him.

Toto then leaned up, starting to kiss his neck. "I would let them know how much I enjoy getting moans out of you," he said, kissing and biting. Christian shivered. "I would let them know how sexy you are, what they don't realize."

Toto stayed close to his lips. "I would let them know how much I love you."

Christian smiled and let himself be kissed; he had forgotten this part, forgotten how much talking works.

And with Toto, he had started working on that, conveying what he wasn't saying, thinking before speaking. He no longer said as many hurtful things, unless he was in Team Principal mode.

Since "No Relationship," he had tried to work on his words. So, being rude to Toto was no longer about saying hurtful things; it was behaving distant and swallowing any insult.

~~~~~

On one occasion, they decided it was time to gather the family. Christian's divorce announcement hadn't been made yet, as they were waiting for some time. Not because they thought there would be something between Christian and Toto or a connection between the divorces, but rather to avoid being the subject of gossip.

It had been almost a year, and the four of them hadn't gathered, not like this. Toto spoke with Susie about things related to Jack, and Christian talked to Geri about things concerning their children.

But the four of them in the same place was a different situation. It's worth noting that Christian felt uncomfortable about showing any affection toward Toto. They didn't usually do it much in front of the kids, as they gave hugs or held hands. But with Susie and Geri present, they were more distant, and it was like a silent agreement between the two. But love simply can't be hidden.

~~~~~

In the months that Susie gave herself to recover and cope with everything, she focused on her work, on loving herself, on not thinking about anything other than Jack and herself.

And in that time, she learned many things. One day, to fight her own demons, she dared to look at photos of Toto and Christian from long before everything happened. It felt quite strange to look at the pictures now, knowing what blossomed between them—the smiles, the looks, always with affection and warmth, yet they never dared to get closer... perhaps destiny wanted it to happen later in their lives.

So, in that gathering where the kids were present and they were interacting as a family, she saw both of them talking while taking care of Jack and Monty. She saw the sparkle in both of their eyes, maybe they weren't being very affectionate with touch, but sometimes it's not necessary; just a look is enough.

So after a while, Christian approached with Jack, who ran to the kitchen because Geri had prepared some snacks.

Cautiously, Christian sat in a chair next to Susie. They hadn't spoken since the last incident.

"So, the kids have adjusted well," Susie mentioned, breaking the silence. "Jack speaks very highly of you."

"Oh... well, we've tried to connect individually with each of them..." Christian said somewhat timidly.

"Thank you... for including my son," she mentioned.

"Thank you for allowing him to connect with me... I thought..." Christian began.

"It's okay. I wasn't going to convey any of that to him. I admit that I acted out of a lot of pain... but maybe sometimes these are things that have to happen..." Susie said, watching Toto talk to Monty. "Have you ever thought about what would have happened if you two had been involved earlier?"

"I... I... maybe..." Christian stammered.

Susie then looked at him. "Imagine if Toto had been a shareholder at Red Bull Racing... who would be your husband now."

Christian couldn't help but blush because, indeed, he had fantasized about that.

"He was close to being part of Toro Rosso," Christian mentioned. "So, we could have met earlier... but destiny didn't want it to be natural."

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"That Toto's and my relationship wasn't... you know, natural, but both with partners..." he mentioned.

Susie sighed.

"Hey... even if the circumstances weren't the most normal, love, love was natural," she said, and after a pause, she continued, "Because even though you're not making physical contact now, you can see how you long for each other with a look."

"I just wanted to apologize for causing pain, even though I know it won't be easy for you to forgive me," Christian said.

"Honestly, maybe it will be difficult, but for the sake of the new family forming, it's better for us to get along in peace... you also forgive me for treating you poorly," she smiled gently.

Susie now felt more prepared to face things after months of resting, giving herself time. Even using her maiden name felt strange but not unpleasant.

Perhaps life doesn't prepare you for breakups, but you must learn from them to cope with other aspects of life. She hadn't said anything, but looking at her ex-husband and his partner, it wouldn't surprise her if there was a wedding in a few months or a year.

After all, sometimes loving is also letting go, and it had been hard for her to understand.

~~~~~

Geri also had a conversation with Toto. She had been an observer for longer than Susie. She had even detected the affection between them when they claimed not to be friends; it was a complete lie.

When Christian made those controversial statements about his relationship with Toto, Geri had to endure how grumpy her ex-husband became because now he didn't have his friend in the paddock.

Yes, she endured it for almost two years, of him talking about how Toto wouldn't even let him speak, and they only greeted each other when the cameras were in front of them.

It seemed that the time they got stuck in the elevator was the trigger for a reconciliation and for something more to emerge between them.

Geri wondered many times what kind of lesson life was giving with this, but maybe it was something she would discover with time.

Toto entered the kitchen to give Olivia a soda, who quickly joined the other kids.

"The kids get along very well with Jack," she said.

"Yes, their siblings are older, and having kids their age seems to have delighted them," Toto replied.

"Now they are brothers," Geri said with a sweet smile.

"Yes," Toto said, returning a smile.

"Olivia insists she wants to see you dance with Christian," Geri said. "Have you thought about..."

She fell silent, but Toto understood the message...

"Yes," he said. "Although I don't know if it will be the right time."

"Look, things happened, yes, but it's been almost a year, and I have some time before announcing my divorce... you have time to plan this," Geri took a sip of her juice.

Toto chuckled softly.

"I didn't think you would support this idea... or any idea about us..." 

"Well, it's just something I thought should happen," Geri mentioned. "Have you never looked at your photos with him? The way you looked at him?"

"I... I think I looked at him as a friend," Toto said.

"Maybe... at that moment... but it was the omen of what was to come after," she said, smiling. "Sometimes we just shouldn't seek answers."

"I guess you're right..." he said.

"So I hope the news of your engagement comes soon," she said with a smile and then walked away to join the kids.

~~~~~

For many things to happen, they had to talk to trusted people for support, so as they approached their biological children... there were other "children" to approach... their drivers.

~~~~~

The first to find out was Lewis. Toto asked to talk to him privately, sounding so serious that for a moment, Lewis was afraid it might be some kind of reprimand. But he was surprised by the topic of conversation. Toto expressed how much he cherished their long years of knowing each other.

He said he wanted to talk about this because, in a way, it had to do with his work. When he mentioned that he was dating someone and with whom, Lewis was left dumbfounded.

"But tell me something, don't just stare at me," Toto said, seeming nervous.

"Well... I'm surprised," Lewis said. "Really, after things with the rivalry, it's weird... to imagine you two together... but nothing is impossible."

Lewis smiled.

"Does it bother you?" Toto asked.

"Why would it bother me? We have to separate the track from work," Lewis said. "Your personal life is very different... and here the heart decides... I hope you are very happy, Toto."

"Thank you, Lewis," Toto said with a soft smile.

From then on, Lewis became somewhat more amicable with Christian, unless there was controversy in the press. They knew not to take it seriously because the show must go on, although they almost didn't do it as they used to.

~~~~~

Max was another topic of conversation. Christian had to explain to him that he had been separated from Geri for a long time, and then he told him about his new partner, for which he needed reinforcements. So he called Checo.

The behavior of both drivers changed with Toto. Not so much with Checo; he always treated Toto the same way. It was Max who acted like a little boy when he spoke to Toto after the news.

"Hello, Max," Toto said, finding Max in the paddock.

"Hi... sir... I mean Toto... um... how are you?" Max felt like a fool... should he treat Toto normally, right?

"Fine... how about you?" 

"Also fine," Max said.

"That's good... well, good luck in the race, although I don't think you need it," Toto said with a smile, and before starting to walk away...

"Toto, wait..." Max said, and Toto turned. "I just hope that Christian and you are happy..." he said in a low voice.

Toto smiled and nodded. "Thank you," he murmured.

~~~~~

So everything seemed to be taking shape, and both were happy with that. An advantage of having discussed this with their drivers and trusted personnel was that they could move around in both team motorhomes, just to talk or spend time together. This was part of no longer hiding and now being more authentic.

When they spent time with their older children, it was a different atmosphere. Their older daughters had become very good friends.

Rosa mentioned that one of the two was the temptation of the other because both are from rival teams.

So they were arguing about who was the angel and who was the demon.

"You once said that Mercedes was heaven and that Red Bull was something like hell," Toto said, looking at the TV.

Both were lounging on the couch, while their daughters had snacks on the table and were also watching TV.

"Yes, I said that, although it could be different," Christian said.

"Then you're Beelzebub," said Toto.

"And what about you, the Archangel Gabriel?" Christian mentioned.

"They could be another type of angel and demon," Blue said.

"Who?" Christian asked.

The two girls looked at each other and burst into laughter.

"We're not going to tell you," Blue said.

"Although we'll just say that sometimes Christian looks like that angel, and dad looks like that demon, and sometimes they switch roles," Rosa said.

It seemed that both girls had managed to compare their parents to characters from books or television.

As part of a separation agreement, Christian knew that he couldn't stay all the time in the house where he mostly shared with Toto.

Of course, not all of Toto's things were there, so before making another move, they had decided to find a new home.

A home where there would also be space for the older children and the younger ones.

They had found a quite beautiful, spacious, and private villa, a place where they could walk together without the need to go out.

They planned to move until the next winter, just after the announcement of Geri and Christian was made.

The kids loved it; they had been given a playroom, and the karting places were nearby to take them for practice.

They also decided that there should be some moment in which they would tell their colleagues.

Not everyone, of course. Now both were the oldest Team Principals, and if they spoke of a real friendship, the only one left was Fred.

So one day, they scheduled a meeting in the paddock, gathered in the Mercedes hospitality. They chatted and joked as they always had over the years.

But before they found the right moment to tell him, Fred spoke.

"So, are you guys finally going to confirm that your relationship has changed?"

Both froze, and Fred laughed.

"Come on, guys, I've known you for years, and I really don't think it's a coincidence that both of you are getting divorced almost at the same time."

"Well, yes, we were planning to tell you..." Christian said with a smile.

"The question is, how did you come to that deduction?" Toto asked.

"Well... unlike the public, I am close to you... I know that your looks have changed... before, you looked at each other with affection, but today... there is a lot of longing in your gazes."

For both of them, the support was crucial. They didn't have to delve into how their story influenced them, they didn't have to know. They just had to understand that they loved each other now.

There were some people Christian had been hesitant to approach his parents. He was afraid of what they would say, fearing their disappointment after two failed marriages, wondering what they would tell him.

When Christian was in front of his parents, especially his mother, he turned into a child again.

But there he was at his parents' house, sitting with his mother for tea. His father had gone out and would be back soon. So, he was nervous.

His mother asked about the divorce, obviously, and he spoke about it only superficially. Then came the part where he had to mention Toto.

Although his plan was to speak fluently, he was being curt. Then his mother asked, "Are you with someone now?"

Christian nodded and felt like a child.

"And? Is that why you're being shy?" She said, stroking his cheek.

Christian sighed, "It's just that I don't know what your reaction will be," he mumbled.

When he told her who he was dating and, fearing her reaction, his mother only asked one thing.

"Does he love you?"

"Yes, I'm sure he does," he responded immediately.

"That's enough for me, then," she said. "Christian, dear, you're an adult now; you shouldn't fear the decisions you make. I appreciate you coming to tell me. I hope you find happiness."

Soon after, they planned how to tell his father; generations are different, and thoughts vary.

His mother liked Toto; she whispered praises to Christian about his good taste, making him blush. She said his boyfriend is a gentleman and loves him a lot.

---

When they told Toto's mother, it was different. Christian accompanied him to Vienna. Christian got to know Austria beyond just Red Bull, learning a bit more about its customs and the places where Toto spent his youth.

Toto's family gave him a warm welcome, and they talked about things Toto did when he was a child sometimes funny, sometimes embarrassing, making Toto blush. Spending their days in Austria that way connected them even more. Not that they weren't recognized; more than one person would. Still, they felt somewhat free.

Talking to Toto's mother was quite sweet; she wished them happiness and asked them to take care of their children.

Then they had a symbolic moment, going to the cemetery. Toto left flowers for his father, and Christian did too. He made sure to tell him that his son had taken good care of his family and that he is a great man.

---

So, this time, the garden was slowly blooming after the storm; everything seemed to be adjusting to a certain order.

For now, they didn't need anyone to know about them; they just needed to understand each other, to comprehend and love each other.

---

Christian opened his eyes slowly, and as usual, Toto was hugging him. Still drowsy, he smiled faintly; they were in their new home now.

In their now-home, they had decorated everything in both their styles. It turns out both loved the classic, though in different aspects Toto, more modern classic, and Christian, classic but rustic. Their home was a perfect blend of their tastes.

It's worth noting that their kids loved their rooms; they had thought about everyone's preferences and designed rooms that could be remodeled over time as some of them grew.

It was summer now, and they decided to spend it at home before going on any trips. Almost two months had passed since they started this new chapter, and everything felt quite settled, as if everything was in its place.

---

A few days ago, one evening, Toto invited Christian to watch the sunset. On the vast grounds, a beautiful green view spread out, with a fairly orange sun. Toto had prepared some small snacks with wine. So, they were nestled, back to chest, when Toto asked:

"Have you ever thought this way?" he said, hiding his face in Christian's neck.

"I really started fantasizing after the first almost-kiss," Christian was honest about it.

He could feel Toto's smile.

"You know... we still owe Olivia a waltz," Toto said.

"Right... Do you already have a plan for when?" Christian asked. Toto had been mentioning it lately, and Olivia wanted a specific song for them to dance to.

"Yes, but I need to know if you like how I want to dance it," Toto said.

"And how is that?" Christian asked.

Then Toto rummaged in the pockets of the jacket he was wearing, then embraced Christian again, clasped their hands together, and placed a small box in his hands.

And Christian's heart raced... because he already knew what it was. When he opened the box, two beautiful silver rings with stones were shining.

"I wanted to know if you want to dance that waltz... but let it be at our wedding... will you marry me?"

And Christian turned to him with a smile, sealing it with a kiss, "Yes, I do."

Smiling at the memory, his ring sparkled in the morning light; then he felt sweet kisses on his cheek and neck.

"Good morning," he whispered.

"Good morning," Toto responded. "How is my fiancé?"

"Good... if I'm by your side, I'm always good."

---

It turns out that happy endings can exist when everything feels bittersweet, but you have to work for it to happen, overcome challenges. Leave the fear behind—the fear of facing situations, people... and as Toto once mentioned to Christian, he would look forward even though the past would hurt for a while. They could march forward.

There was a moment when so much calm made Christian feel quite dazed; he thought something different would happen at any moment... but no, turns out that amid the storm, the light returned.

So, in the Garden of Eden, spring arrived, and it came to stay for a long time.

~~~~~~~~~

Helloooooo

Well and we come to the end of this adventure

Today there was a lot of sweetness❤️

[st-sainz]

First, Thank you @watercolor-hearts for tagging me! when i saw it i knew it wouldnt be an easy task (mostly because i love to talk a lot lmao) but i liked the concept and felt that it would be interesting way to dive more into the ships i am fond of.

Pairing/Shippy list!

Here are the rules:

1. List your top seven ships.

2. Put them all in order for your love for them; 7 to 1, 1 being your favourite.

3. Name the fandom.

4. Put a picture of the guys in question.

-

7. Ziam (Zayn/Liam Payne) (One Direction)

weird way to start this list, since its not f1 related, and i very much believe it's a dead ship now. But honestly they deserve this honorable mention for being the first ship i adopted, and i didnt even care about One Direction or their music around that time (in fact i cant remember even how i stumbled upon this ship lmao). These two together just had so much chemistry for me, either on stage, interviews, or anything really. also they were my introduction to this whole idea of "ship" (Larry was the absolute more popular one obviously, but it was Ziam that really SUCKED me in like a vacuum cleaner). Unfortunately, Liam's distasteful comments last year bursted my bubble about them (even though he has explained this year he wasn't in a good place, and i personally think they are okay with each other, even though still distant), but i still like to watch their compilation videos on youtube sometimes, it's quite bittersweet :')

6. Martian (Sebastian Vettel/Mark Webber) (Formula 1)

honestly i feel i just dont put these two higher because they feel somewhat new to me, like i need to dive into them more. I just think its such a fun ship in the sense that it has a looot of things going on at the same time, their very public rivalry and the famous multi 21, mark's angry face at that one press conference, it could be so so angsty but they just make me laugh (also, the making love on track quote is now burned into my brain so in no way they could be out of this list).

5. Christian horner/Toto wolff (Formula 1)

okay okay this is the part yall realize im actually crazy. but... they DO have chemistry when they are interacting, even in their non-amicable moments, and i do love myself some good enemies to lovers. Obviously it helps that i think they both are very actrattive, sexy middle aged men that have hunger for victory and i believe they hold so much respect and admiration for each other, considering they are the two most sucessfull TP's at this point. Also, HEIGHT DIFFERENCE.

4. Versainz (Max Verstappen/Carlos Sainz) (Formula 1)

(i wanted to find that ONE gif where he lifts carlos a little so bad but this one will do) Oh, this one really rocketed fast into my favorites. I just think they are just so wholesome. I always feel Max is warmer towards a certain number of drivers, and Carlos is one of them. And i dont even ship them in a ... kind of way, even tho it makes sense in my head the narrative that both were each others "first's" before going into bigger ships. Its just that it feels so special that both debuted together as teammates and, both took different trajectories in the way their career planned out, but theres still a genuine connection between them, at least in my view.

3. Maxiel (Max Verstappen/Daniel Ricciardo) (Formula 1)

I know its weird because i dont really post about them. But this falls into the same category as versainz for me, except that here there's a kind of dynamic that it makes me go "hmm... interesting". I always like to see max smiling and being happy because this boy went thru so much in his childhood, and oh how Daniel knows how to bring this side of Max. If Max can be warmer to certain drivers, for Daniel he has a whole SOFT SPOT, and i think that's very endearing. IMO, Daniel feels like the person that changed him in deeper ways we know, that one person that was indirectly a "life teacher" to him maybe, and thats special to me.

2. Brocedes (Lewis Hamilton/Nico Rosberg) (Formula 1)

Oh, the ANGSTY in this one. yes, this one deserves the ANGSTY in all caps because to me that's them. Oh to have lived through their divorce must have been heartbreaking but what a freaking cinematic ship this one is. I just can't ignore it. How it feels to me that Nico is the one who wears his heart on his sleeve, while Lewis has that chilling Capricorn control over his emotions is so. just so. And the fact that Nico's legacy is forever entangled in Lewis' name. If a movie screenwriter would come up with this, i'd think it would be overdramatic, but no, theyre actually this unhinged.

Charlos (Charles Leclerc/Carlos Sainz) (Formula 1)

how do i even start talking about these two idiots? Okay, so obviously i think they're both very attractive and that definetely helped me to ship them lmao. But thats kind of reductive, because these two have sooo much chemistry in my opinion, even before their ferrari days, there was so much potential waiting to bloom, and it did. I love their banter, their competitiveness, how they can get childlike around each other sometimes. How they are so physical, how they make each other laugh (let me not talk about their gazes to each other or i will not end this today). I love how Carlos doesn't hide he wants to compete with Charles (which brings him unnecessary hate sadly), and how both respect each other in this stance. There's a bit of angsty underneath this soft/fluffy surface too (more from Carlos' perspective imo - but lets not forget Charles and Silverstone 2022 too - this is my charlos angsty origin story), but they still find their way, and that kind of compels me even more into them. I just think theres so many layers, multitudes, in the way we can create, write and read about them. Absolute favorites.

-

Tagging @schumiatspa and @sainzjpeg 😊

obviously, feel free to ignore if you dont want to play, no hard feelings around here ❤, and also 7 ships are quite a work! if you're not tagged but want to make your list, feel free to do it and consider yourself tagged by me 😘

[imma-queencard]

In your eyes!-christian pulisic

Where Christian finds his feelings towards you.But he messes up things. Can it be a friends to lover au?

Angst,fluff

Author note: English is not my first language. I tried to write for one of my fav Christian Pulisic. Pardons the mistake and would love to have your support!Might write a second part if this piece gets enough love❤️ Happy Reading!

It was a miracle for Christian Pulisic when he met you. A sweet accident for him. He was visiting one of his relatives at one of the renowned hospitals in London and there he met a smart yet weird medical student,you. He still remembers that day. You helped him find the cabin which he could have found out by himself for sure.

“so I was wondering if we could meet by the bridge?” he texted you nervously. You had been a bit distant to him recently. Ignoring his texts,replying in short,making silly excuses not to hangout. He was worried. For the first time in these two years,he felt empty inside. It was not that she was your best friend Christian.. He said to himself a couple of times. But he missed you. He always loved how your smart yet shy personality blended with his. They blended perfectly. He couldn’t help falling in for you slowly. Not a love in first sight. He had no regrets for falling in love that late as he always believed in slow burns.

“exams ahead sorry”

Christian gritted his teeth together. What did he do to deserve this cold shoulder? Weren’t you the first one to act so close with him? Weren't you the one out of all the people to bring him a coffee after his every defeat?He never asked for those. Never. He always loved the way you cared for him. His happiness. His mood. His life. So was he to yours. He sighed.

~~~~~

“ you just cant ignore him forever y/n..” Jule shouted, trying to suppress the music played in the club.

“I just don’t know..” you mumbled fidgeting with your fingers.

“you don’t know what,y/n? Falling for that american football star or avoiding that star for whom thousand of girls have been already dying for?"

“ I -I don’t think he will ever look at me in such way Jule..and you-you’re right. He already has thousands of girls falling at his feet so why would he bother to give a fuck about an ordinary one?and..” you paused biting down your lips. Fighting hard not to let your tears fall in front your friend.

“And..if he does by chance,it’s not gonna be more than just a one time fuck..” You wiped the tears off the corner of your eyes. You loved him. You wanted to be something more than just a fuck to him. Wanted badly.

Jule hugged you tight to pat your back before pulling you to the dance floor forcibly.

“come on!Just one dance! You know?dance yoour thoughts out,Y/N!” she pulled you among the crowd and started moving her hips with the beats influencing yours.

“Oh please Y/N!Please?”she pouted at you and you laughed playfully before vibing along the music.

You were too busy dancing with your friend that you failed to notice a pair of eyes glaring at your way. Christian gritted his teeth while his eyes fixed at your moving body. You were busy with your exams,weren’t you? You couldn’t come to the bridge this evening and there you were dancing among some random men.

“don’t glare at her dude…just talk and sort things out..and you know how to do thaat!” Reece said patted his back. Christian’s eyes travelled to you again. You didn’t look drunk a bit. Your black dress wrapping up all the curves of your body perfectly before reaching your knees. That V neck line showing off a glimpse of your cleavage and it didn’t help his situation at all. His jaw clenched before walking up to the dance floor.

You flinched when you felt a pair of hands snaked around your waist before pulling you closer to his body. You trembled hearing his voice behind you.

“so we were busy with exams,huh?”

“Pu-Pulisic…” a cry slipped out when he grinded against your body purposefully.

“Why to lie when you could easily say on my face that you didn’t feel like giving your time to me..” he whispered,no,more like a complaint in your ear as his hands ran over your sides slowly,taking his time. Letting his fingers explore your smooth curves. His touch felt so.. So different this time. A bit purposive,more like the touches of flame.

“I-i..Jule forced me coming out.. Really..”you lied. He smiled. He knew you like his palm. He knew what a terrible liar you were.

“You’ve been avoiding me..” he mentioned brushing his nose against your neck. Your breath hitched,"I-I didn't!" You managed to utter those words. Your face turning all red. Your body set on fire. Yes,you wanted him. Wanted this so bad.

"Then?"

"It'-it's just i'm being a bit busy nowadays.." You mumbled. He grinded against you again before turning you around to face him. Your eyes quickly drifted to your feet. You were not ready to tell him yet. You never planned to tell him those actually. How could you face him or lie looking into his eyes?

“y/n..”he stated pulling up your chin so his eyes could look into yours. He smiled seeing how your eyes trying to hide the embarrassment. How your cheeks turned so rosey all of a sudden. How your body was reacting to his feather touches. You wanted him the way he wanted you. Definitely.

“Did I do something to offend you?I mean-I’m always ready to mend up things you know?ju- just tell me so I cou-“

“I-I-Jules been looking for me..i-I wanna go home!" You cut him off pushing him with your hands. But to your surprise, he grabbed one of your elbows and pulled you into his arm. Your chest against his. You blushed wildly. You loved this side of Christian.

"Wha-what are you doing!" you almost screamed out in shock. This was not the Christian you knew!But you loved this. You knew you wouldn’t be able to keep your grounds for so long against this side of him. You would end up breaking everything. The friendship.

"I want answers.." he demanded as his hand started caressing your thighs. You moaned. You wondered when his fingers manage to slip under your dress. And how easily and how comfortably he slipped his hand to caress your thighs!You wondered if that was just for him being horny or needy today. There was not a single reason for him to fake his feelings towards you now. So he let his emotions speak for himself. He wanted you.

"Y/N.." he muttered under his breath while moving his face closer to yours by inches.

"I-I Don't want it,Christian!St-stop!" you growled and pushed him again. Your eyes all teary, "Do you fucking think me as one of those girls, Christian! I am-I'm not like them for you! Don't think me I'm easy to-easy to Fuck!" you yelled out at him, enough for him to hear your vent despite the high volume music playing on.

"Y/N!It's not! It's not about fuck!I swear-I-I"

You shook your head. Not wanting to hear any words from him. So you quickly ran away from him to find Jule and left the bar without any delay. Without any second look at him.Jule shook her head in disappointment and looked at Christian standing alone in the dance floor. All broken.

Christian bit his lips in anger. That was how you thought of him? A man to look around for fucks. A man to fuck around his friends for enjoyment? She thought him to be a fuckboy out of all these men there!

He could swear that you felt exactly the way he felt around you. How your body reacted. Your eyes. They never lied. He saw excitement,shyness and appreciation in your eyes for him. Or maybe his mind made all these things on it's own?

Should he go after you? Apologise?why he should?or maybe he should?maybe because he never had the chance to say those words to her. At least she could have given him a chance?maybe two minutes? To express his feelings towards you?Was it the end of your friendship? His vision got hazy sitting on the chair.

His phone beeped. He grimaced.

Reece: Just go and tell that you like her. It's now or never,dude. Thumbs up!

He would. He decided. He would give this at least one last try. Chasing after you.

[gemstarstarlight]

IDK if you've seen Crown of Candy yet, but it's treatment of Not-Christianity is much better even if ultimately still negatively-oriented. It's more centered around the historical institution with Not-God being more of a force than a sapient being, and the pagan representation turns out to be sinister so it's consistent in not endorsing any strain of divinity in particular. Ravening War likewise does some interesting stuff with church-drama that doesn't cast genuine faith in a bad light.

I have watched both of those and I agree with you! It’s definitely a bit better because of all of that. It’s also more my genre anyway, which made it more fun.

It’s so tricky because there’s truth in both Comida and Fantasy High’s depiction of religion. I’ve met the Bobby Dawns and read up on the Belisabeth Brassicas. I understand that God can feel distant, like a force and nothing more. I am so angry and grieved at the damage the church has done to people. Any time there is a grasp for power or a putting down of others or another goddamned cult I want to just cry because this isn’t what it’s supposed to be and it’s horrible to just watch. Also I do believe that as much as possible there shouldn’t be an endorsement of one religion over another in entertainment, so not endorsing any particular religion in Dimension 20 is good.

But I feel such a connection with characters like Sir Morris Brie. Because I’m a Bible-believing Bulbian. I’ve studied my god and I’ve also met him. And he’s not like Helio at all. He loves me. Has always loved me. Has always wanted what was best for me. Has grieved with me when I’ve lost everything in little ways over and over again. Has been my father and friend when I haven’t been able to trust one and didn’t know how to have the other. And I’ve been able to trust the Bible over and over again even if I haven’t always agreed or understood.

And it’s just never represented. D&D has always felt like the closest thing to representation for me, as a Bible-believing queer person. And Dimension 20 (again, understandably, it sounds like Ally’s experience was awful and part of healing has been leaving) rarely if ever portrays someone with genuine faith in a Christian-esque god. Or if they do, it’s portrayed as toxic or ill-informed. And that sucks, frankly.

I get it, I truly do. No one gets more irritated than I do at bigoted ignorant Christians and I will fully doxx myself by saying I have been to the American South and I would NEVER live there willingly because of the culture.

But I tend to listen to the more neutral Dimension 20 campaigns. It took me so long to try A Crown of Candy. Because I don’t just respect my religion; I love my God. And I hate to see the slander, especially because some of it is true and even more especially because some of it is not.

[yelenasdiary]

Hi, if you are open for a DanixReader request, can I chip in this idea in where R really likes Dani and will do everything for Dani, like Dani's down? R will give her a chocolate, Dani needs food? R will book a delivery to Dani's apartment and such and R knows how shitty Dani's bf and his friends. And when the time came where Dani's bf invited her to go to the festival, R confessed but Dani still chose her BF. Thank youuu for reading and it's okay if you don't like the idea and if you aren'tcomfortableto write it

Never Enough

Pairing: Dani Ardor x Reader

Summary: You've been there for Dani more than Christian ever has but still, she picks him. 

Angst | 0.9K | Depression Warning

AC: I’m still so deep in my Midsommar era it’s about time I wrote this!! I hope you enjoy!  

Dani's smile was broken, and everybody saw it, but nobody spoke a word about it. Losing her family, the way she did completely broke her, she had you and she had Christian along with his friends. You never liked Christian nor his friends and the way they treated Dani, like she was a problem, like an annoying friend that had to be involved in everything they did. You spent years keeping your thoughts about them to yourself out of respect for Dani. 

Sometimes it felt like you did more for her than Christian ever did. You always gave her a shoulder to cry on, had food delivered to her apartment when Christian was out with his friends, you even helped bath her when she couldn't bear to move a limb. You did anything just to see the beautiful smile she once held, to hear the contagious laugh that filled the room, anything just to see her eyes sparkle once again. 

"I have news" Dani looked at you as she pushed herself up from the sofa and into a seated position, "Is everything okay?" you smiled softly for comfort, but her eyes just flickered away from you, "Christian and the guys are taking a trip to Sweden next week and I'm going with them" she replied with little to no emotion. "Well, that sounds fun" the fakeness in your voice of your happiness for her wasn't to be heard. You loved Dani, you have been in love with her for as long as you've known her but of course she was with Christian and who were you to ruin that?

"I hope so, there is some festival we're going to celebrate" she adds brushing her loose hairs out of her face, "Do you think you'll be okay?" you asked as worry filled your own mind. "I have Christian, I'll be okay" 

Her comment broke your heart, you never understood what she ever saw in him. He was distant, careless and it was very clear the two of you didn't like one another but for Dani's sake you were civil. 

"Yeah, sure" you smiled lightly before grabbing the empty glass on the coffee table, "when do you guys leave?" you asked before wandering into the kitchen. "Friday next week" Dani's voice traveled from the living room. Maybe if you told her your true feelings she would stay, you thought as you looked up at the fridge which held a photo of Dani and Christian, Dani's smile wide and bright, oh how you missed her. "I was wondering if you'd be able to watch the apartment for me?" Dani asked, breaking your thoughts. 

"Actually" you sighed before walking back into the living room, "Please don't go" you blurred out. Dani frowned lightly, "Y/n, I'll be fine. I'll call you every day when I can, I promise" you know she's only saying this to stop you from worrying about her. 

"It's not that, Dani" 

"Then what is it?" Dani sighed. 

"Don't go with him please…he doesn't…I mean, you, agh" you stuttered with frustration. "Just say it. You don't like Christian, I already know" Dani spits, her frown deepening. "I don't care about Christian, Dani…I care about you….he doesn't deserve you, he never has. I've kept this to myself for so long but I can't watch you travel 10 hours across the world with somebody who can't treat you the way you deserve, Dani I'm in love with you and I know this isn't the time to tell you but I can't sit back and watch you chase him anymore without knowing my feelings" you explained, you finally said it. 

Dani froze as did you, processing the words that just left your lips. "You're not" she shakes her head in disbelief. "I am. I always have been, since the day I met you…you've always been on my mind. Seeing you like this breaks my heat, darling I'm the one here. Where's Christian? Where has he been when you were throwing up because you'd been crying so much? Where was he when you couldn't get out of bed for a shower? Where was he when you needed to eat, to drink? Where is now? I'm sorry, I know this is out of line but please….i've been here for you and I'll always be here" 

"You know he's busy, he's getting things ready for the trip. I ca..i need you to leave" Dani stands to her feet, ready to show you the door. "Dani please, I mean it. I love you and I can't help but think we had something before all this happened…just tell me…tell me you didn't feel something…" you looked at her as the memory of a drunken game night almost led to the two of you sharing a kiss but of course, Christian called. "Please leave, Christian will be home soon and I don't want you here" her tone was strong. "Fine…I'll wait for you but if you change your mind, call me…please" 

It wasn't until Thursday the following week that you'd hear from Dani, a text message. Her name lighting up your screen giving you the butterflies in your stomach like she always did. 

"Dani:

Y/n, I thought about what you said. I'm thankful for you and everything you have done for me, I really am but, I love Christian. That night, the one were we almost kissed…we were drunk and I'm sorry, I've never felt anything for you in that way. I know you don't like Christian and sometimes he can be an ass but I love him. He is there for me just as much as you are and I think this trip will do us both some good. 

I hope we can still be friends, I'll see you when I'm back x"

Tears filled your eyes as her words shattered your heart into a million pieces, little did you know that you would never see or hear from Dani ever again.

[sisterdivinium]

what do you think suzanne was like in her youth? she says she doesn't see herself as modern, but what do you think that means to her?

Those are interesting questions! As they require a little more imagination than I usually apply to my posts here, I'll ponder them one by one, even if they're interconnected. This will be long, of course, because it's about 💕❤️ Suzanne ❤️💕 my beloved.

1) On Suzanne's character in youth

The first solid clue we're given about what Suzanne used to be like comes from the conversation she holds with Duretti on Crimson, of course:

As much as Mother Superion ends by radically dissociating herself from Crimson in the similarity established by the cardinal, adding that the younger nun is "possibly sociopathic", she makes no effort to refute the adjectives of "aggressive" and "undisciplined" as applied to herself. She must, then, in some level recognise these traits as her own.

When we are treated to the flashback she has with Shannon in season two, confirmation on both characteristics is clear: a determined halo-bearing Suzanne eschews "Christian compassion" in slaughtering a gang of men without pity and without any real backup plan should her charging head-first into battle yield less than desirable results. She is aggressive and undisciplined, quite evidently.

Here is a little problem, though, because discipline is indispensable to obedience — and obedience is, of course, amongst the vows taken by those who enter monastic life.

This could nudge us towards seeing a certain rebelliousness in young Suzanne. Fitting in and taking orders from someone else might have been a challenge for her, as it always is for prideful people, even when those "superiors" have their respect.

Her tempestuousness seems, to me, to have manifested in another physical manner as well. Regardless of my own tiny sin of "headcanoning" her as a lesbian, there's the other side to this competent swordswoman — not the one in the heat of battle, getting up close to her enemies in order to slash them down, but in the proximity shared with her sisters, her body language and closeness to them.

Season one shows us a detached, distant Mother Superion who almost never directly touches the other women. In season two's flashback, however, our Warrior Nun Suzanne strokes Shannon's cheek before whatever halo trick she pulls in pressing down on Shannon's chest. There's an easy familiarity there, a confidence in breaching Shannon's personal space — an intimacy as well as the conviction to assert it. Whether this type of gesture was exclusive to Shannon or dispensed on the other nuns as well matters not so much as the fact that it happened and how it contrasts with the Mother Superion we know of the first season. I'd guess that young Suzanne wasn't all that keen on repressing the ways by which her body, then still wholly able, interacted with those of her sisters. Opening up to touch as she does throughout season two, slowly as it might be, might not be a novelty as much as a "coming home" for her, regaining some of her lost confidence in her very ability to love other women — or express it, rather. It wouldn't be far-fetched to assume that the guilt she felt for being a sinner encompassed more than just the grief of killing a mother...

Liberal closeness to other nuns alongside a lack of discipline mustn't have garnered her a great many favours in her time with the Church... So I suppose her combat skills, her sharp focus, and her devotion to the cause must have spoken louder than her blatant (cardinal sin of) pride when she rose to the position of halo-bearer.

And maybe, just maybe, the fact that there was someone to vouch for her played a part in it as well.

Mary had a mentor and a protector in father Vincent and I suspect something of their relationship might be mirrored in how young Suzanne might have sought guidance in an ambitious, younger father Francesco. They "go back many years", Vincent tries to sway a reticent Mother Superion by claiming Duretti used "her history" against her... It's possible that a young Suzanne, like Mary, would have depended on a man of the cloth to secure her place within the OCS even as her very personality at times clashed with the demands of the institution. Men who, for one reason or another, could help direct these young and ferocious women's energies towards a specific goal, give them a purpose. Needless to say both Suzanne and Mary seem to stay on board for the same reason, even if as Mother Superion Suzanne might have later repressed it: their sisters.

For all of Suzanne's cockiness, she does quite obviously do it all for them.

So to sum up my vision of young Suzanne and move on: I see her as a brash, somewhat rebellious girl in need of a cause through which to channel her passions and a speciality to prove herself to others (given how she is already so sure of her own value). As far as faith goes, she appears to have deposited it mostly in herself, which would account for a greater degree of godly devotion after losing the halo in order to expiate her sins. She's in this (always has been, even despite later shame and fear and concealment) for the women, most of all.

2) On what "modernity" might mean to Suzanne

In order to assess what modernity is, it's necessary to define the term it's contrasted with as well — we need to think of what tradition could mean for her.

And this is... Difficult. "The Church" isn't an easy way out; Duretti is part of the Church, a constant in her life, a guide... Yet Suzanne's words about needing "a more modern approach to the job" are very reminiscent of something Duretti himself had said back in that same season one scene:

There's a bit of a paradox here if we try to see things through her eyes.

Her need for "modernity" arises from another exchange with this same man. But can we say Duretti truly embodies tradition when here is a religious person who has no qualms about setting sister warriors to kill a girl who accidentally has the halo? (Well, perhaps so, given how the Catholic church is stained with terrible actions...) Suzanne might not know about the torture chamber in the Vatican, but she did help save Ava in the catacombs from the OCS rejects under his orders. She is perfectly aware of how violent he can be.

Perhaps that is in itself a part of her wanting to break out; we can't ignore the fact that the above screen captures show us his line of dialogue ending while we see a take of Beatrice offering a hand to Crimson — showing her the opposite of the ruthlessness Duretti and Crimson carry.

It's also peculiar how she mentions modernity while inside a library or archive, the very home of history and tradition. Are these the "old teachings"? This unending amount of precepts all around, gathered with the passing ages?

We wouldn't do well to argue that the blood-soaked books recounting the past or the violent strategies of Duretti are necessarily what trouble her seeing as she is still a warrior currently at war; Suzanne isn't exactly a pacifist.

However, the phone call that originates the "modern" comment is a failed attempt on her part to get Duretti to act, to take a first and definite step against Adriel — to enter the fray, as young Suzanne probably would have already.

He beckons her to "have faith in God" — and perhaps that is the issue, the "old teaching" she feels insufficient and which, examining her (possible) past as in the first part of this very long answer, was never enough for her to begin with. Heeding the words of men, believing in God... And what does that amount to shortly after they hang up? She couldn't predict the future, but she saw something wrong with the method — and the intuition proved right.

I can't tell precisely what her "modernity" entails since I cannot pinpoint "tradition" either; they seem a bit intertwined. It's tempting to say Jillian fills the role of providing the "newness" through her technology, but it isn't as if Mother Superion were a luddite: she's using a smartphone and a computer just fine, if perhaps not as modernly as Camila and her TikTok. She is not an "outdated" person. We could assume that this "modern approach" has less to do with the instruments and more with perspective, with priorities, guiding principles... On a superficial level, it's about coming out from under Duretti's wing — from Church structure's shadow, from the patriarch's rule, from following someone else's lead.

And that, funnily enough, assuming this post is in any way correct in its hypothesising, would lead us right back to our rebel from youth, if hopefully with more wisdom to guide her steps this time around.

Season three would have allowed us to see Suzanne be without the anchor of Duretti (as season two could have let us see Mary away from Vincent) and maybe elucidate the matter... But, as it is, I think this is as much as I can surmise with what we've been given!

[tadpoles-and-daydreams]

(this is for research purposes (/gen this is for an english project) but I understand if it seems weird so feel free to ignore) (also dw I don't plan to mention specific people) what drew you to paganism/polytheism?

Oh this is SUCH a fun question. I was sitting down to do some readings and saw this in my askbox and just- I'll do this one first XD I apologize in advance, I'm gonna write a huge fucking essay because it's fun. First two paragraphs are more a history and context of how I got to paganism, the rest is more the aspects of paganism that drew me in!

So, this won't be an anti-Christian rant but I feel the need to say that part of it is, admittedly, that I grew up going to church with my grandmother. I loved that church, but I knew very well that they loved the IDEA of me. I was an undiagnosed auDHD queer kid who, at the time, was severely depressed. They loved the mask I put on, not the reality of me. I hadn't found acceptance in religion. I always was aware of paganism and witchcraft because of my parents and their practices, but really I grew up Christian. But that world- at least the way I was taught Christianity- was very small and harmful to me. Paganism not only understood me, not only accepted me, but enthusiastically embraced my oddities.

For a while, it was more an occasional hyperfixation than a practice I could put any effort or trust into. Witchcraft and paganism requires being in the present moment, something that I avoided like the plague because I was so afraid of my emotions. After some pretty intense experiences (if you want a little more explanation just DM, but I'd rather not post publicly bc it's pretty dark) taught me I could handle existing in the moment no matter how intense the emotions were, it suddenly opened up my practice in a whole new way. I wasn't afraid to be real with myself anymore.

Ultimately, I think that's what drew me to my own practices and religions; it's real. No, not in the "I'm the Right ReligionTM" way, but in the sense that I can be honest with myself in my practice. I can be real. I don't have to run away from the earth hoping for heaven, I don't have to pretend that having a body and mind is evil- I embrace my whole self. Paganism taught me it's okay to be myself no matter how strange I am, that the body and the life we live here and now is sacred. I don't have to fear the parts of me I was taught to reject as a child because those are "of the devil," I embrace them and give them compassion because I should never have been told that in the first place.

It also taught me that the world really is bigger than people tell you, just like I always felt it was. In my mom's words, "I thought it made so much more sense that the animals in Narnia talked. And some part of me that I kept very very secret thought that maybe they do in this world too, if you just know how to listen." The more I learn about my personal practice as a witch and pagan, the more I feel like that. "This just makes more sense."

Also, last thing because this is a HUGE ramble I swear I just fucking love witchcraft and paganism so much: The way I work with my deities makes more sense to me than the way most religions present gods. A god that is distant, powerful, and has the power to punish me if I step one toe out of line, would be no help to me at all. That's just one more authority figure to fear. My deities are kind, they accept the parts of myself that even I don't, and hell they're even funny- they sit with me when I want to cry or when I'm angry and they also watch my silly little shows with me. I feel their presence in casual activities. And to me that's so much more helpful than a god that's impersonal. The way a lot of religious deities work just... stress me out. I would never feel seen, not truly, and how would I know that they'd accept all of me? With my deities, I know they accept all of me. They've seen all of me.

Plus, on the less emotional side of things, paganism is just fucking FUN okay. Who else gets to say they watch anime with their god? Who else gets to say that their god, who is often perceived as formal and ruthless, makes dad jokes sometimes? I fuckin' love it here.

I hope this helps at all! It's very rambly but.... ehhhHHHH my feelings on paganism are rambly bc I like it :D

[onlineproblems]

ok not to be a mommy issues bitch but i was working on my story that i've been trying to write for like 3 years. and thinking about my mom. and wondering why i feel so much angrier at my mom than my dad, though they both wronged me. in different ways which arent really comparable but neither one more or less than the other.

my dad was distant and never praised me, always had criticism, higher standards for me to meet, and rarely told me he loved me, was the disciplinarian parent who wasn't involved in parenting unless it was to punish us. he's very different now that we're adults and i think he's realized that he won't have a relationship with his kids if he keeps acting that way, because he texts me often to tell me how much he appreciates and loves me. and although he knows i'm a godless atheist liberal, and he always tries to work god bullshit into the conversation, he basically still accepts me.

meanwhile my mom would always talk to me growing up -- about whatever, her frustrations with my dad, emotional stuff, our interests, religion, etc. we didn't get super deep because even when i was a christian i didn't share much with my family, but i was closer with my mom than my dad. i thought of her as more open-minded than my dad, but suddenly it was like a turn-around happened (or i just became more aware) and she was suddenly spouting low-key alt-right anti-vax, homophobic, end times bullshit and it kind of sucker-punched me to hear it from her. if i ever thought i could come out to her, i was quickly disillusioned. she said something like 'god would cause gay people to die sooner so that they wouldn't keep sinning' and i just had no response. she got her counseling license this year; she's a marriage and family therapist. fuck.

she's divorcing my dad which i think is a good thing; their marriage was not happy. he was basically incapable of expressing his emotions and he didn't mistreat her but he definitely didn't treat her right. he has decades of unprocessed trauma and he can't stop watching porn. i discovered it on the family computer when i was 10 years old. he tried to commit suicide five years ago. he locks up his computer and tells his whole church about it for 'accountability' and punishes himself but he can't stop. i don't know what the fuck went wrong with him. my mom won't tell me what happened to him but she's implied that he might have been molested or had something similar happen as a kid. i don't fucking know. how they've been married for 30 years i have no idea.

i have compassion for them both but i hate they way their bullshit has affected me and my brothers. my dad's inability to cope prevented him from taking care of us. my special needs brother went without the care he needed because my dad wouldn't leave his work in rural africa, because he was afraid of living in the us and feeling inadequate. he was an expert in his field there, but in america he was just another guy. i was depressed and suicidal and untreated and my mom probably was too but her ideology didn't allow her to disagree with her husband, so we stayed. and i hate her for that. for never challenging him, for just bending to his will when we all needed help. when my brother needed medical care that wasn't available where we lived.

i feel stunted, my emotional development so behind where i could be if i was allowed to interact with my peers during my formative years, because of my parents. our house had a yard with 8-foot walls around it and i never left there except to go to church. i had to cover my body for 'modesty.' i hated my body. i had an eating disorder. i was afraid of other people. i couldn't make friends. without going into detail, there were times i felt exposed to predatory men when i should have been protected by my parents.

and like....my dad should have taken responsibility, he should have woken the fuck up and cared for us instead of being in his own head all the time. i feel like i should be angrier at him and hate him more. why is my hatred more for my mom? is it because we were closer, so the betrayal feels deeper? is it because he's making a real effort now, actually putting work in to change the behaviors that harmed me, while my mom seems to have no awareness that she caused harm? i mean, she blames everything on my dad and doesn't really take any responsibility. i started cutting in college and she lamented to me last year that she ''really wanted to move back to be with me" but my dad didn't want to come and "she didn't know what cutting was". her excuse was she had never heard of cutting, and her husband said no.

she's had so many missed opportunities to care for and support me. i've been open with her about what i believe in, what i want to do, how i've changed, and her responses seem perfunctory, while my dad actually seems to take an interest in me even if he disagrees with most of my beliefs. i guess i feel like it's more important to me that he's actually trying now even if i don't think he'll ever really change. the effort is what matters to me. i don't think my mom is interested in trying -- it doesn't feel like she is. but i don't know. it just feel wrong to hate her so much more than him. it seems disproportionate.

i've spent time in therapy for most of these experiences so i'm not horribly affected by them anymore, and being an adult and having distance from my parents means it doesn't cause the agony it did when i was a teenager, but as they're divorcing this year it is bringing this sense of 'choosing sides' a bit closer. so a lot of memories are coming back up. in 2021 i spent like 4-5 months processing ptsd from my childhood and now i feel a little residual angst from it.

i'm a functional adult, and i'm pretty happy day-to-day. i know everyone has their own issues and traumas that inform their lives that we just don't see, nobody has it all together, and i try to keep that in mind and be merciful to myself when i feel like i should be...idk better at life. it's pointless to think about what-ifs and i don't, really, but i am pretty bitter and angry about how my parents could have spared me a lot of pain when i was young and had little control over the way my life went. i never want to have kids, for a lot of reasons, but i can't imagine giving birth to a child and not being intentional about the way you care for them, knowing that it's inevitable you'll fuck up, but wanting to be as informed as possible and giving them the best you possibly can because they're basically helpless. you can't be selfish when you're a parent. if you have a kid simply because that's what you're supposed to do, what the fuck are you doing? that's a person. i look at the children i know, or at my younger siblings, and i can't imagine not sacrificing my desires to care for them. abstractly, i don't like kids and i feel awkward around them, but jesus christ. your own child? especially if you chose to have that child? you're just going to sit back and let them suffer, because you don't want to be uncomfortable? don't have a kid if you can't handle it.

sometimes i wonder if i'll ever be normal enough to feel safe by myself, after my experiences with predators that my parents didn't protect me from. if i can leave my house alone and not feel a little bit of panic under the surface. i'm hopeful since i've made progress over the years, but it comes in waves -- grows and fades. i wonder if i'll stop automatically going on the defensive when certain subjects come up. if i'll stop having nightmares about being sent to hell and my mom telling me she was right all along. i wonder if i'll ever be able to feel normal about having a disagreement with someone i care about, without feeling like i'm sinning, like i need to be punished or i need to absolve myself because i'm so used to emotional abuse and neglect from my parents and church and 'god' that it informs my interactions with friends and especially my spouse. creeps in when i'm vulnerable and makes me act horrible when i want to be well-adjusted and healthy.

this be the verse, eh? they fuck you up. they really really do. and this really got away from me but god i just had such an outpouring of thoughts. it was cathartic. and i can't journal so it all goes to tumblr lmao.

[kingedmundsroyalmurder]

Honestly committing to the bit of there being actual magic at play in the plot of Kilmeny is making it way more fun. I give you, Mrs. Williamson's info dump, with a couple twists:

Mrs. Williamson is waiting for him when he gets back to Lindsay, her husband skillfully banished somewhere else for the evening. She looks at Larry, sees him hale and bursting with life when just that morning he seemed to have one foot already in the grave. “Have a seat Master,” she says. “I think it’s time we talked.”

She asks if he’s been to the old Connors orchard and seems entirely unsurprised when he nods. Over the next hour, she tells him the story of the Gordons as she remembers it, tells him about old James Gordon and his children, about how they always seemed a little queer even before James’ second wife arrived. Good people, kind folk, but withdrawn. Kept to themselves and kept the traditions of the old country. Then came Bridget Gordon, James Gordon’s second wife. Young, fair, filled with light and laughter. She breathed life into the dignified solitude of the Gordon family.

“She had a way about her,” Mrs. Williamson says, her eyes distant. “Or so my mother said. Something that drew folk to her even when she was in a temper. And oh, what a temper she had. Her mood would change like the wind, my mother said, and you never knew what might set her off. But for all that she was kind and all three of the Gordons loved her dearly.”

Bridget Gordon lived only a few years in Lindsay before birthing her only child and dying from it. Margaret, the girl was called, and from her first days her brother and sister worshipped her. She had her mother in her, in looks and in temperament, ropes of long black hair and bright eyes that flashed as easily with laughter as with anger.

“We were friends,” Mrs. Williamson says. “Plenty of folks didn’t like her, strange and imperious that she could be, but those of us that loved her did so fiercely.”

It was Margaret who first brought Mrs. Williamson, then just plain old Elizabeth Mason, to the old orchard. They’d been sixteen and Mrs. Williamson had fallen in love for the first time.

“She made me swear that no man would ever separate us,” Mrs. Williamson says. She shivers a little, glancing around the room to ensure they’re still alone. “She took me into that orchard and had us clasp hands in the middle of it and swear. And Master, you know I’m a good Christian woman, and I was then too, but I tell you when we swore I felt something in the air. Something I couldn’t name and don’t care to. I don’t know what would have happened to me if I’d tried to break that promise, but it wasn’t just love for Margaret that made me loathe to find out.”

Larry thinks back to his time in the orchard, to the strange power it seems to have, to the way it invades his mind and soul whenever he’s not there. He has no trouble believing her.

A few years later, after a lifetime of not deigning to so much as look at any of the men chasing after her, Margaret went to teach school in Radnor and fell in love. All it took was one look, on both sides, and Margaret Gordon and Ronald Fraser knew they were destined to be together. Or so Margaret told Mrs. Williamson

“We went to the orchard again – we’d started going there often, to be alone and exchange confidences – and she told me that she’d found the man for her. I tried to talk sense into her. She hardly knew the man. He was a stranger in town, with no friends or relations to speak of. Here she was, she who’d never so much as looked twice at a man in her entire life, ready to wed a man she’d known for barely two weeks. I tried everything, Master. I argued, I bargained, I begged. Not to set him aside, you understand, but to give it some time to settle. ‘Have a long engagement,’ I told her. ‘Wait six months, a year. See if you still care for him, when the shine wears off. None of us would think less of you, if you decided to take it slowly.’ She wouldn’t hear of it. Oh, the things she said to me that day, Master, I can barely stand to remember them. And there, in that orchard, where she’d sworn just like I had to never let a man come between us.”

She shakes her head. The light of the lantern flickers, as if in some invisible breeze.

“Often I’ve thought, Elizabeth, you old fool, you knew better. You knew how stubborn she could be, and how proud. She’d cut her own nose off, if someone told her she was scared to. And maybe, maybe if I’d just held my tongue, she’d have come to her senses herself and not rushed into things. But after we fought about it, well, her pride wouldn’t let her back out. She and Ronald Fraser were married that very summer. We’d made up by then, she and I, and I was her bridesmaid at the wedding. What a sight she was, Master, done up in the finest splendor this island could offer. She wore her mother’s dress, and I’ve never seen the like. Silk so soft you could barely feel it, and lace that must have taken a decade to make, delicate as a cobweb. She did her hair up in pearls and roses, and her bouquet was the reddest roses she could find. I’ve never forgotten the sight. If I close my eyes, I can see her right now, standing there that day, looking at Ronald Fraser like he hung the constellations in the sky just to please her.”

Margaret and Ronald Fraser were married less than a year before things went wrong. Ronald Fraser had told everyone he was a widower, and Mrs. Williamson swears she thinks he believed it. But whether he was wrong or lying, his first wife turned up in Radnor just the same. It broke something in Margaret. She packed her bags and went back home and never again left the Gordon farm. She received no visitors, sent no correspondence. It was like she had become a ghost haunting the town and, little by little, the town forgot her. Thomas and Janet Gordon weathered the storm, for someone had to make sure little Neal went to school and to church, especially with his unfortunate entry into the world. But Margaret stayed locked away, and her daughter Kilmeny with her.

“So there you have it, Master,” she says. “I won’t tell you that I believe our fight in the orchard caused all this misfortune to happen, but I know what I felt that day and I know what happened later. It’s a wicked place, Master. I won’t try to tell you not to go – I can see in your face that it’s no use even trying, and I won’t put you in a spot where you feel you have to keep secrets from me. But guard yourself. Don’t make promises there, no matter how sweetly someone asks you to. Don’t spend the night there, and don’t eat the fruit from the trees.” She picks up her knitting, abandoned onto the table when she began her tale. “I’ve never told that story before, and after tonight I shan’t ever again. But you’re a good man, Master, and you’ve got a life waiting for you. I’d hate to see you trapped here.”

[dasenergi-diary]

My last name may be Coleman, but I have always felt more like my maternal side of the family — O’Neal. While growing up we saw the Coleman side more often and we were more distant from the O’Neals. But I always felt more like an O’Neal. My temperament matches theirs. Not the alcoholic extroverts of the Colemans. The O’Neals are more spiritual, kinder, respectful, gentle. (Albeit very Christian, but they are the good type of Christian.) Also my skin coloring and hair color. The Coleman’s are darker and I am lighter, with blonde hair and blue eyes like the O’Neals. I always felt picked-on by the Coleman’s, but I know that’s because I was (and still am) sensitive. The Coleman’s are good people for the most part, they just don’t realize how loud and aggressive they are. It’s intimidating to gentle souls like mine.

These thoughts make me wonder how much of our personality is encoded into our ancestral DNA. Did I just get more O’Neal DNA? Or is this something at the soul level?

This is a part of the loneliness I have felt my whole life — Never feeling like I belong anywhere.