#sorry folks lifes been hell

[destinywillowleaf]

one of a kind living in a world gone plastic

baby you're so classic

@most-tragic-character-tournament

(all my thoughts in the tags)

[carlyraejepsans]

i don't think I've ever enjoyed a birthday party with friends as much as today i am genuinely getting a bit teary eyed

[oliverreedmasterass]

Synopsis: A young Greta Van Fleet find hope in a local battle of the bands competition to finally catch their big break.

Words: 6.9k

Notes: Sorry for the wait, @infinisonicosm! (and thank you for creating this fic idea)

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Day One

After a solid eight hours of practicing, Sam hoped that he would be able to fall asleep fast, but that wasn’t the case. Instead, he laid under his plaid comforter, frowning up at the glow in the dark stars on his ceiling. Since he hadn’t gotten around to talking to Josh since they were all too focused on practicing, Sam was forced to deal with his doubts, and crippling self-esteem on his own, secluded in the darkness of his room. 

Sam shifted around and looked down at Danny, who was snuggled into a sleeping bag beside his bed, on the carpet. He looked so peaceful (and not to mention like he really needed the sleep). Sam had taken note that Danny was drumming exceptionally hard during their practice. He was playing with so much intensity, it almost felt like he was auditioning for the band all over again, like he had to prove something. Sam knew that he needed to be in a similar mindset since there was a lot on the line with the competition, but he was struggling. There was just too much happening in his head. Sam considered waking Danny up to talk through things, but Danny let out a window-rattling snore that convinced Sam to not disturb his slumber. 

So, instead, he returned back to facing the stars and blew out a hefty sigh. He enjoyed playing the bass, that was definitely true. But he had other things that he liked doing too, and it felt like the band was starting to consume all other aspects of his life. They were playing multiple gigs a week so he had to spend all of his free time working on homework so he could graduate. Sam had managed to get solid grades throughout high school and even applied to some pretty impressive colleges back in the fall, but he and his fellow classmates were still waiting to hear back. Sam figured that’s where a good deal of his anxiety lay. He knew it was a shot in the dark, but he had applied to Harvard’s engineering program, and found himself daydreaming about that life. Being on a gorgeous campus, learning from the best, and building things that would blow his bandmates’ minds. Plus, he could have a social life if he went away to school. 

Sure, he had friends at school and all, but he and Danny had missed some serious milestones. They didn’t go to their prom since Jake and Josh had signed them up to go on a mini-tour across the state, playing in as many bars as they could access. Sam had dated a few nice girls, but all of their relationships were severed when they told Sam that he was spending a lot of time with the band and not putting enough effort into the relationship. While his friends went to parties, football games, and the movies, he was in the garage, plucking away at his bass. He didn’t like that a lot of the most formative years of his life were spent in that garage. 

But he did enjoy playing with his brothers. It was something that they were able to bond over, and he had to admit that he had never felt closer to anyone than Jake, Josh, and Danny. Their band had its ups and downs, but Sam was proud of how far they had come, even just in the five years since they had formed. Jake’s guitar playing was reaching new levels that entirely baffled Sam; it was like he transformed into a god anytime he flicked his amp on. Josh’s vocals, in a similar vein, turned heads left and right since it was so unique and strong. Danny never played out of time, and even though he was the newest addition to the band, he had all of their songs down as if he had been in the room with them when they wrote them. He was even growing comfortable switching up tempos and taking off into long-winded solos that would make John Bonham nod with approval. And then there was Sam. Sam just played the bass and sometimes played the wrong notes. 

Sam spent the rest of the night with a frown etched across his face, wishing that the fan above him could smash him so he didn’t have to go to the competition the next day. The early morning sunlight started to crawl through the breaks in his curtains, and soon enough Danny was sitting upright with a loud yawn, stretching his arms towards the sky. 

“Get some good rest in?” he asked Sam once his yawn was fully released. Sam remained on his back, glaring daggers at the ceiling fan, and let out a grunt. He called out in protest as Danny jumped to his feet and yanked Sam’s covers off of him. “It’s a big day!” Danny told him, as if Sam didn’t already know. “Perk up, this could be the first day of the rest of our lives!” 

That made Sam all the more motivated to stay in bed. Danny frowned as Sam flopped over on his back so he was facing away from him, and curled up into the fetal position, clutching one of his pillows into his chest. 

“Are you nervous?” Danny tried to guess. Sam didn’t even know what words to assign to whatever the hell he was feeling, so he shrugged. “Gassy?” Danny tried again. That got a snort out of Sam. 

“What’s going on?” Josh popped his head into the room, and then joined Danny’s side. “Why’s Sam all folded up like a pretzel?” 

“He won’t tell me,” Danny replied, sounding concerned. 

“I’m sure it’s just some pre-show jitters,” Josh rationalized. Then, he turned his attention to Sam and thrust his hands at him, latching onto his shoulders. Sam squeaked out in shock as Josh shook his body around, hollering at the top of his lungs. 

“COME ON SAMMY, SNAP OUT OF IT! GET YOUR HEAD IN THE GAME AND GET OUT OF BED! WE’VE GOT A BIG DAY AHEAD OF US!” 

“Let go of me!” Sam tried to swat his older brother away, to no avail. Josh came down close to Sam’s ear and tucked his long hair out of the way so he could whisper, 

“If you don’t get up, Jake will be here any second with a bucket of ice cold water.” 

Jake had done that to Sam enough times that he knew Josh was being serious. He smacked Josh’s hands off of his shoulders, and hoisted himself up, to the applause of Danny and Josh. 

“Happy?” he asked between them. 

“Thrilled,” Josh gave a cheeky grin back. 

With Danny and Josh close to his side as if they were his bodyguards, they made their way into the kitchen where Josh had been working on brewing some Folgers coffee. Sam thought about asking Danny to go back to his room and grab something for him so he could be left alone with Josh to talk, but Jake ruined that plan. 

“What do you think?” he asked as he came into the kitchen, motioning down at his clothes. Sam, Danny, and Josh took in his women’s flare pants, paisley button up shirt, and floppy hat. 

“Absolutely not,” Josh cut in. “You look like a member of the Mamas and Papas.” 

“And that’s a bad thing?” Jake retorted, crossing his arms across his chest. 

“You think it’s a good thing?” Josh shot back, looking alarmed. 

“No,” Jake sighed, and then motioned back towards their shared room. “Help me?” 

“Yeah,” Josh nodded. “You need it.” 

Sam watched his brothers leave the kitchen, and held his head in his hands. Danny had been at the fridge, helping himself to some yogurt, but joined Sam’s side, sliding onto the barstool next to him. Sam could feel Danny’s eyes on him, but he refused to turn his head in his direction. 

“Do you not want to play today or something?” Danny asked Sam. That got him to immediately tense up. “I’m surprised you’re not more excited for this.” 

Sam took long enough to answer Danny’s question, that he was worried Danny could tell he had pinpointed his emotions exactly. “It’s not that,” Sam struggled to speak. He couldn’t think of what to say next, so he left it at that. 

“You know you can tell me if something is up,” Danny’s voice softened. “You seem super on edge right now and it’s kinda freaking me out.” 

“There’s just a lot on the line right now, that’s all,” Sam thought aloud. 

Danny put a supportive hand on his back and rubbed it around a bit. “We’re sounding better than we ever have before, Sam. The key is just to go out there and have fun. As long as we do that, I think we’re gonna be pleasantly surprised.” 

Sam appreciated Danny’s feedback, but was disappointed that Danny wasn’t able to pick up on his anxiety surrounding the band and his own future. Danny seemed to believe that this competition was a clear shot straight to his dreams, as opposed to Sam, who saw it as an inconvenient fork in the road. He knew it wasn’t worth bringing up, just in case it got Danny upset, so he pursed his lips together and gave Danny a quick nod to show that he agreed. 

At that moment, Josh popped his head back into the kitchen with a large grin. 

“Get your butts back to my room,” he told them both. “We need to get our outfits sorted out.” 

An hour and a half later, Sam found himself sitting in the front seat of Danny’s car, on the way to the fairgrounds. He was wearing some red satin pants that he had bought on a whim at a thrift store the previous year and then proceeded to throw into the back of his closet. When Josh discovered them, they were immediately forced into Sam’s hands. On top he wore a busy patterned blazer with nothing underneath except a collection of gold necklaces, taking Jake’s advice that having their nipples out was the coolest thing rockstars could do. For what it was worth, he did feel closer to a rockstar in his outfit than he had felt in a while. 

The rest of the car looked good too. Danny had on a pair of black skinny jeans and a black vest with stunning swirls of gold dancing across the fabric. His hair was pulled part way into a bun, letting a small bit of his curls lay around his shoulders. In the backseat, Josh proudly wore a top that closely resembled a silk robe, decorated in a red, purple, and blue floral pattern. The number of chains and medallions around his neck was so substantial, he made a clinking noise with every move. Sitting next to him, Jake was dressed in a dark jacket with golden tassels falling over his shoulders, his bare chest on full display. He only had one pair of clean pants in his closet, so he was stuck wearing a pair of faded skinny jeans and his favorite Chelsea boots. 

Danny was blasting what he jokingly called their “hype music” which was just Crazy Frog on repeat. Jake had threatened to chuck Danny’s phone out the window numerous times, but never did anything. They reached the old county road that would lead them to the fields on the outskirts of town, and Danny called over the music, “Get ready, it’s about to get bumpy!” 

Sam had trouble continuing on with his brooding and concerned thoughts, he was bouncing around so much in the passenger seat. If Ian really was going to be in the trunk with their friends on the drive out, he was as good as dead. As they lurched around in their seats, their heads nearly hitting the roof of the car with every pothole hit, Sam saw the main stage coming up closer in sight. God, that was a massive stage. It looked so big, Sam thought he would probably feel like he was on top of the world standing up there. He shook his head and forced himself to frown again. 

Danny pulled into the special parking lot they had been instructed to use, and killed the engine, luckily making Crazy Frog stop. Jake heaved out a sigh of relief. Next to him, Josh was still bouncing around, even though the car had stopped. Sam watched him in confusion, until he realized that he was simply excited. 

“I can feel it, you guys,” Josh shared with the car. 

Danny held a hand up to get him to stop. “Hey, don’t jinx it,” he said, though there was a twinkle in his eye. 

“Remember,” Jake reminded the car. “We take this one step at a time. Focus on the round that we’re in. Don’t look ahead to the end.” 

Sam’s eyebrows furrowed at Jake’s advice. Maybe he did have a point. 

The band exited from the car and got to work dragging their countless instruments and cords out from the trunk of Danny’s SUV. Sam grabbed his bass and Danny’s snare and started to carry them in the direction of the stage, following behind Jake, who was holding his guitar cases with care. Sam took note of how Jake was walking with his head held high, and tried to mirror his body language. He figured that, maybe just maybe, if he acted like he was feeling good, he would actually start to feel that way. He was hoping that would get his stomach to stop twisting in tangling knots. 

They found the dropoff area for their stuff and, right beside it, there was the order of bands going on stage. 

“We’re going first,” Jake announced to the band, pointing out their name on the list. Sam’s stomach flip flopped and he clutched at it when no one was looking at him. 

“That’s good,” Josh tried to assure them all. “We get to set the tone for this whole thing.” 

“Who are we up against?” Danny asked. Jake squinted his eyes at the list. 

“Some band called Bloodhound Venom?” 

Danny thought it over. “They’re not the ones we need to be worried about.”  

“I’m worried about them though,” Josh begged to differ. “That band name is fucking terrifying.” 

“It’s a group of fifteen year olds,” Danny patted Josh on the back. “Trust me, you’ll be okay.” 

“So which band is the one we need to keep our eyes on?” Jake looked at Danny with intrigue. Danny looked back at the list and pursed his lips as he scanned over the different names. 

“That one,” he finally spoke, jamming his pointer finger into a name that was set to play later that afternoon. Everyone looked closer at the paper taped on the side of the stage. 

“Fellowship,” Jake read aloud. “Oh, those guys must be good.” 

“They’re alright,” Danny shrugged, trying to hide the threat they posed. That was enough information for Jake, since he turned on his heel and headed back to their gear.  

He took a brief pause and called over his shoulder, “Josh, you better start warming up.” 

Sam didn’t appreciate how fast the day was speeding forward. Though, granted, it didn’t give him a lot of time to dwell. In the two hours they had to wait until they went out on stage, he passed the time looking at the cars on display with Danny, greeting his friends and family, and throwing up in one of the porta potties. Sam usually wasn’t the one to let anxiety get the better of him physically, but after seeing all of his loved ones stationed in front of the stage, carrying signs and banners in support of Greta Van Fleet, the weight of their performance crushed him like an anvil. 

Once the contents of his stomach were fully cleared, he found himself back with his band, Josh handing him his dad’s bass. Sam nearly dropped it, he was shaking so much, but he was glad that no one else seemed to notice. Danny had both of his drumsticks clutched in his fists, and bounced from foot to foot in anticipation. Jake was stretching his hands out and cracking each of his fingers louder than seemed humanly possible. Sam noticed that Josh’s eyes were on him. Before he could say anything, Josh grabbed Sam softly by the shoulder and dragged him out of earshot of Danny and Jake. 

“You look really pale,” he observed. Sam studied his feet and nodded. “Are you good?” 

“I don’t know,” Sam admitted. “I’m a wreck.” 

“Well that’s sure as hell not what I want to hear from you right before we’re supposed to go out there. Can you tell me what’s up?” 

Sam let out a disgruntled breath. He really didn’t know how to explain his situation. 

“I’m just nervous, is all.” 

“You’re usually pretty level-headed when it comes to playing in front of people though.” 

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Sam raked a hand through his hair. “I guess I’ve just been thinking a lot about what’s on the line with this competition, and how it might be our big moment.” 

Josh’s eyes were trying to find Sam’s and, when they connected, Sam was relieved to see that Josh was nodding his head, looking like he finally understood what the problem was. Sam was even more relieved when Josh patted his back. 

“I’m nervous too, Sammy,” he assured him. “We both have our own things that we want to do, but this band is something we can all share and that’s pretty special, right?” Sam could only shrug in response. He did get what Josh was hinting at. “We can talk about this more later,” Josh decided when the host of the competition went onto stage to announce their band. “But I want to know that you’re gonna be okay.” 

“I’ll be okay,” Sam forced a smile at him. 

“Good,” Josh smiled back. “We’re gonna blow shit up, it’ll be electric.” 

“I sure hope so,” Sam managed a laugh. 

To really no one’s surprise, they went out there on that stage and, in their scheduled five minutes, played the most energetic and impressive version of Fast Train Blues to date. Sam wasn’t sure if it was from nerves or excitement, but Danny upped the tempo slightly, which Jake took as a challenge to insert Eddie Van Halen-esque solos in their breaks. After the first chorus, Sam finally felt some form of ease since he had trained his eyes to never fall on their cheering section, instead scanning just above their heads. He plodded around the stage in his bare feet, which he and Josh had started trying out recently, and let the low hum of his bass make the floor tremble. He felt a power swelling in him that, as the song kept going, started to feel addictive. Josh managed to propel the lyrics out of his small frame so his voice hollered over the cacophonous music. When they finished, Sam’s ears rang over the applause from the crowd, but he knew that they had accomplished something terrific. 

That was entirely verified for the band when the host greeted them at the side of the stage. 

“I’d heard of you kids before, but god damn,” the older man chuckled out. “It’s been a while since I’ve heard live music like that. I saw people running into the fairgrounds from the parking lot to get a look at you guys.” 

“Thanks, sir,” Jake told the man with genuine gratitude, still trying to catch his breath. 

Danny was right to say that they had nothing to worry about with Bloodhound Venom. As intimidating as their band name was, they opted to attempt a cover of War Pigs that quickly fell apart during the solo. Sam and Danny remained on the wings of the stage to watch their performance while Jake and Josh wandered around to try and find some craft beer to chug, and Sam winced as he watched the bassist. He didn’t want to compare himself to someone to boost his own morale, but the poor kid could hardly play any of the notes. Sam noticed that the bass line suddenly vanished from the speakers, and shook his head in sadness when he saw that the kid had given up and was faking his playing. Sam had never put on a performance like that before; even if he got lost, he could usually work out some notes to play that at least fit with the sound. 

When the kids finished their song, they tried to hurry off the stage with their heads hung low. Sam reached out and tapped on the lead guitarist’s shoulder to get him to turn around. Out of all of them, Sam could tell that he was the one who had put the group together, and was trying his hardest to keep them from falling apart. 

“That’s a tough song to do,” Sam told the kid when he looked back at him. “You’re gonna get it down, you’re super close.” 

“Thanks dude,” the kid told him, though Sam could tell the kid was thinking he was full of shit. He let the band leave them then, and Danny nudged Sam in the side. 

“That was nice of you to say.” 

“It’s true,” Sam commented. “Give them a few years and they’ll pull it off. Jake, Josh, and I sounded like them when we first attempted to play Communication Breakdown, but we eventually worked it out.”

“I do remember you guys trying to play that one at Fischer Hall,” Danny’s face scrunched at the memory. Sam had to laugh at his brutal honesty: for what it was worth, they had sounded like absolute garbage. It didn’t help that the hall’s cheap ass microphone kept shocking Josh every time he put his mouth up to it. 

Jake and Josh both came back to their side clutching large steins of beer in both hands. 

“They were on the house!” Jake called in glee. “They didn’t even check our IDs!” 

Josh finished one of his steins and slammed the glass onto the stage with a whoop. At that moment, Tom and Leah came around to the backstage area, grinning wide. Sam and Danny left Josh and Jake behind with their own vices to greet their friends. 

“How is Ian doing?” Danny asked before they could shower them in praise. 

“He survived the trunk,” Leah laughed back. 

“We had enough space for him in the second car, but he insisted on sitting back there,” Tom added. “He said the bumpy part was actually a lot of fun, though that might just be the concussion talking.” 

“God,” Sam chuckled, “I hope not.” 

“I gotta say,” Leah looked between Danny and Sam, “you both are incredible at what you do.” Sam could feel his cheeks flush the brightest red at Leah’s compliment. “Seriously,” she continued when she was met with embarrassed silence, “we’re always talking about how much time you guys put into this band and, geez, I think it really is paying off.” 

“You looked like rockstars up there,” Tom agreed with Leah. “It was almost like I didn’t recognize you.”

“Quit stroking my ego or I’m gonna have a bigger head than Pete Townshend,” Danny warned Leah and Tom. Sam could tell that they had no clue who Danny had just referenced, but they laughed anyway. 

“I think you guys are practically guaranteed to go to the second round,” Leah said. Sam gave her a testing glance, and she laughed, knocking her fist against her forehead. “Knock on wood,” she said directly to Sam. “I’m just glad we’ll get to see you guys play again. I’ve literally never had this much fun at a concert before and I’ve seen Pink before. Do you know how big of a compliment that is?” 

“Not really,” Danny and Sam both replied. 

Josh joined their side and, after greeting Leah and Tom, motioned back to the stage. 

“Jake wants us to get some more practice in with our Round 2 song,” he explained apologetically. “It’s kind of a new number that we’re trying out.” 

“We won’t keep you then,” Leah said. 

“We’ll see you soon,” Danny promised her and Tom. “And, genuinely, thank you so much for coming out today. It really means a lot.” 

“Hey, we wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Tom assured him. They both gave Danny and Sam hugs, and then they headed back into the growing crowd. While another young band was attempting to play through Back in Black on stage, Danny tried to talk to Sam over the music. 

“Josh mentioned you were a bit off before we went out there. Are you okay?” 

Sam glared at Josh, who was a few paces ahead of them, oblivious to their conversation, and shook his head. 

“I was just going through some pre-show nerves, but I’m doing better now.” 

For what it was worth, Sam was feeling reasonably better than he had just a half an hour before, when he was emptying out the contents of his stomach into the smelly plastic toilet bowl. Josh’s words had really struck a chord with him and, when he saw his brothers and best friend standing alongside him out on that stage, he realized that it did feel like home to him. He did enjoy creating art with them, and challenging himself to compose music that he wanted to hear. It was a privilege that not everyone got to experience, so he tried to keep it close to his heart that this band was something he was lucky to have. 

“I’m glad you’re feeling better,” Danny looked sincere. “I’m sorry I didn’t realize, I would have tried to do something to perk you up.” 

“Like play Crazy Frog?”

“How did you know?” Danny pretended to act surprised. 

Josh led them to a tent that was reserved for the musicians and they found Jake sitting at a folding table, working on tuning his acoustic guitar. When they approached his side, his head snapped up, and Sam was concerned to see that he had familiar frown lines etched into his face. It looked like Sam wasn’t the only one dealing with nerves for the day. 

“Now what’s your problem?” Josh quickly broke the ice, pointing at Jake. Jake scowled at his twin and directed his attention back on tuning his G string. “Jacob, answer me,” Josh continued to prod. 

“I’m just worried how I’m gonna sound singing, okay?” Jake finally snapped. “Maybe it was stupid to pitch that we play an acoustic song. I might screw up and then everything will be ruined for us.” 

“I can sing your part, if you want,” Josh suggested quietly. Jake’s head shook back and forth so hard, he looked on the brink of giving himself whiplash. 

“I need to know what pressure like this feels like,” Jake countered. “It’s, just, it’s fine, it’ll be fine. Don’t worry about it.” 

“We’re obviously worried about it though,” Danny chipped in. Sam had to nod. When Jake’s confidence was wavering, the rest of the band wasn’t too far behind. 

“Look, you can still sing, just stick to the backing vocals, okay?” Josh tried to compromise. “You don’t have to take the second verse and bridge.” 

Jake seemed to be contemplating it, but then clenched his jaw and shook his head again. 

“I need to suck it up.” 

“What you need to do is tell yourself everything is gonna be okay,” Danny corrected him. “Just do Josh’s vocal warm ups and you should be fine.” 

“You sounded really good singing during rehearsal yesterday,” Sam wanted to let his older brother know. He had heard Jake sing countless times through all of their garage sessions, but the day before Sam had really started to appreciate how strong and full Jake’s voice was sounding. If anything, he was on the brink of giving Josh a run for his money, which was some seriously high praise. 

For whatever reason, Sam’s words seemed to be what Jake needed. He finished tuning his guitar and then stood and pointed towards a secluded area behind some moving trucks. 

“Wanna set up shop back there?” he asked. “They’re announcing who’s going on to the next round in a couple of hours so we should have enough time to get some more practice in.” 

They set up a circle of folding chairs next to the back of an eighteen wheeler, away from the amassing crowds. Sam had his bass with him and a portable amp that did the trick. Danny and Jake were both equipped with their acoustic guitars, and Josh was holding his maracas like he had the most important role in the band. Sam looked around at his bandmates in a new light than he had earlier in the day. He had separated himself from them in his mind, assuming that they were all on the right path while he was straying away from the life he was supposed to lead. He was starting to believe that less and less. While they practiced, Sam caught himself making eye contact with everyone and grinning. They were all putting their heads together to create something that sounded incredible. It was like they had a kind of magic surging between them. 

In spite of this, Jake was having trouble with his singing parts. He was able to get through his harmonies with Josh and Danny, but when it came to that second verse, Sam had never seen him act more like a perfectionist. On their fifth runthrough of the song, Sam felt like they had hit their groove and were in a great place. But no. Jake immediately stopped playing and threw his hands up to stop everyone after he sang half of the first line of his verse. 

“I was out of tune,” he admitted once everyone muted their instruments. 

“You literally weren’t,” Josh told him. Sam and Danny nodded in agreement. Jake had sounded perfectly fine. Maybe a little bit soft so it was hard to hear him over the guitars, but he still sounded good. Jake started playing from the beginning of the song again without another word. Silently, they followed his lead. 

After their thirteenth runthrough, Josh started to grow frustrated. 

“I’m gonna wipe my voice out before we can even get out there,” he rattled his maracas at Jake to try and prove a point. “I’m starting to feel hoarse!” 

Danny shrugged like he could keep going, but Sam knew that it was time to take a break before they started really butting heads with each other. He gently set his dad’s bass in the grass and made his way to the backstage area where he had seen a table set up with a portable kettle and some tea bags. He didn’t know a whole lot about how to keep vocal cords in shape, but Josh was an avid tea-drinker when it came time for them to perform, so it only made sense in Sam’s mind. He fixed three cups of earl gray tea with lemon and honey and carefully brought them back to the group. When he returned, Josh was trying to teach Jake one of his warm ups. 

“You just do a lip roll and go up as high as you can and then back down, oscillating back and forth,” he instructed. Jake looked back at him like he wasn’t sure if Josh was pulling his leg or not. Indifferent to it, Danny was giving it a try and seemed to be enjoying himself. Josh motioned for Jake to give it a go, but Jake looked like that was the last thing he wanted to do. When he caught sight of Sam, his frowning face opened up into a relieved smile. 

“Thanks, Sammy,” he said to his younger brother, accepting one of the paper cups from him and chugging it down. Sam winced since it was still pretty hot, but Jake didn’t seem to notice or care. Josh and Danny gladly took their own cups as well, but opted to nurse them. 

“Jake,” he said as he took a seat back in his folding chair. Jake looked up. “Don’t overthink things.”

“Not exactly easy to do, Sammy,” Jake replied. 

“You enjoy singing,” Sam reminded him. Jake had never outwardly admitted it, but Sam heard him singing Black Keys songs in the shower enough that he knew it was true. “Own it or we’re never giving you this opportunity again.” 

Jake looked at him with a twinkle in his eye. “Since when do you make decisions for the band?” 

“I’m as much a part of this band as everyone else here,” Sam stated. It felt good to say. “I want to see us make it to the finals, and if that means raising the stakes for you to get over yourself and get out there and perform, then so be it.” 

“Those nerves really are gone, aren’t they, Sammy?” Josh joked into Sam’s ear. He swatted his brother away. Across from him, Jake seemed to be running Sam’s words through his mind. 

“How will you know if I ‘own it’?” 

“If we make it to the next round.” 

“Fair enough,” Jake had to agree. 

From the stage, the host was stationed back in front of the microphone, congratulating the bands for participating in the first round. The members of Greta Van Fleet realized that the winners of the first round were about to be announced, and rushed to the side of the stage where the other groups were huddled. 

“Everyone give a large round of applause for our eight bands who have made it to the second round!” the host beamed out at the packed crowd that was squeezed in front of the stage. Sam peeked out and saw his parents and friends on the right side of the stage, clasping their hands together in eager anticipation. “Our eight bands are Fellowship, Boogie Down, Fred Fender, Astound the Fury, Invalid Password, Greta Van Fleet, The Bellhoppers, and DaveTM!” 

Sam felt a rush of relief wash over him, which was so drastically different from how he was feeling on the car ride over earlier. Sam had been wondering if he could do anything to get them eliminated in the first round, sabotaging their dreams of a big break. It had seemed like a good solution to his problem at that time, but now Sam was glad he was wrapping his grinning bandmates in tight hugs, feeling one step closer to the big time. 

The second round’s schedule was posted shortly afterwards, and Greta Van Fleet was set to face off against the group of college kids who went by Fred Fender. They mostly played indie pop music but, as Danny softly explained to them, the drummer had recently been replaced, and the new guy couldn’t keep time to save his life. It felt like the odds might be in their favor yet again. 

Instead of going back and practicing more, Sam was glad that Jake chose to remain at the side of the stage, watching the other groups play. They were going third, so they were able to see Astound the Fury and The Bellhoppers compete. Sam enjoyed Astound the Fury’s rendition of a Moody Blues song that he frequently listened to on his parents’ vinyl, but The Bellhoppers seemed like they might squeak into the next round since their lead singer had an intoxicating charisma about her that the crowd seemed to eat up. Their rendition of Blondie’s Call Me had Sam bouncing in place. Sure, it wasn’t the kind of clean cut live music most people were used to catching in their city’s largest stadiums and arenas, but there was something invigorating about how raw everyone sounded. This was music at its core. 

It was slightly nerve-wracking to go out there on that stage, armed with acoustic guitars, after such an electrifying performance, but there was no turning back. Sam watched as the stagehands set up four wooden stools at center stage, three in front of microphones. Sam knew that his stool was the one on the far right, with no microphone to block his view. Thank god his brothers didn’t feel it was necessary to pressure him into singing. 

This time around, when he walked out on stage, he did take note of how many people were there to hear them. And, by some miracle, the sheer number of intrigued faces made him all the more excited to plug his bass in and play away. A brief glimpse at Jake caused him to frown though. Jake looked about as pale as Sam had felt earlier, before the first round. He seemed to be having trouble steadying his hand so he could plug his guitar in. Sam, Josh, and Danny must have all noticed at the same time, because they huddled around him, their backs to the stage. 

“You’re gonna be fine,” Danny was the first to talk. “I’ll sing backup on your verse and bridge so you have something to fall against. Just kick me if you want me to stop.” 

“Remember to sing from your chest, not your throat,” Josh reminded him. Jake gulped and nodded. Sam gave his shoulder a squeeze and looked into his panicked eyes, trying to communicate to him, I got through this, and so will you. The host popped back out to announce that they were performing a cover of Ragged Wood, which was met by a loud applause. Jake looked like he wanted to remain hidden from the crowd, but took one more fragile breath and then turned to grab his seat on the stool. 

Sam looked around to make sure everyone was ready, and then counted them in. Jake and Danny’s acoustic guitars playing earned cheers from the crowd. Josh was getting into his maraca shaking, and started to project out the vocals in a way that Robin Pecknold would approve of. Jake and Danny joined in on the harmonies during the chorus, and Sam grinned when he spotted Jake singing with a wide smile, his eyes closed so he was fully engulfed in the music. His voice floated through the crowd, warm like whiskey on a winter’s day. Sam spotted his parents watching Jake get through his verse with awe. It was an added bonus that their fan section erupted into applause once Josh took back over for the chorus. The bridge was just as strong and, after going into a condensed guitar break, they closed out the song. The applause was thunderous, so much so that Sam wondered if they were really reacting to them. It almost felt surreal. 

They took their bow, Sam made sure to wave to their group, and then latched his arm around Danny’s back as they hopped off the stage. Jake and Josh were right behind them, and both had their goofy grins wide. 

“So, I’m still allowed to sing, right?” Jake gave a toothy smile at Sam. 

“We gotta find out if we made it to the next round first,” Sam crossed his arms with a smirk. Jake gave a booming laugh and then focused his attention back to the stage where Fred Fender was setting up. 

They all tried to be as respectful as possible, but it was hard to keep a straight face when hearing their take on Where Is My Mind. It didn’t help that the drummer was somehow managing to use the bass drum on all the off beats. That obviously threw the rest of the band off, so it wound up sounding like a piece of experimental music that the Beatles would produce in their LSD era. Their hopes were high that they would be able to continue the competition into the next day. 

Since they had played their two planned songs, they spent the rest of the second round with their heads together, trying to create setlists for the next day. A lot of name calling and shoving went down but, in the end, they came out with a list that seemed to showcase all of their talents, giving each member some time in the limelight. Sam still felt his stomach slightly clench at the thought of performing a solo in front of a crowd of that size, but he tried to push it out of his mind. He was focusing on the present, all his other problems weren’t real until he was facing them head on. 

To their joy, it was announced following the car show that Greta Van Fleet was indeed going to the next round, alongside their three final competitors: The Bellhoppers, Invalid Password, and Fellowship. Their friends and family showered them in love and praise, taking them all out to Zehnder’s for a large chicken dinner to celebrate their success, and hopefully what was to come. 

Sam filled himself until he felt like he was going to burst, and had to take a pause from his jovial laughter to look around at everyone he was sharing his meal with. There was a lightness in the air like everyone could sense something really good was just on the horizon. And this time around, Sam wasn’t afraid of it.

Next Part >>>

[corvidcall]

truly i love when people feel the need to performatively announce every societal privilege and marginalizion they experience. i think its bad practice and bordering on unethical and wrong, but it is also deeply, DEEPLY funny when you catch someone unironically confessing to experiencing "pretty privilege"

[posletsvet]

So—

Being eighteen was great, can't wait to see what being nineteen will show!!

[heathermason6060]

Daryl Dixon x f!Reader Smut: Matchmaker Merle

Warnings: slight drug use, mentions of Lori, Daryl is a virgin, Shane being Shane, No use of Y/N, unprotected sex

Summary: Merle tries to get Daryl laid with an old family friend. Apparently, Merle is a master matchmaker? Buildup to smut. 

Notes: Sorry for having the buildup so slow, I'm really bad at porn without at least a LITTLE plot lmao

You were allowed a little leeway your first day at camp. Glenn had found you, confused and lost, covered in dirt and blood after the bombs had gone off and separated you from your friends and family. You were on the highway, like everyone else, but as soon as they saw the city being lit up, all hell broke loose. They started acting like animals. Running and screaming, looting. The dead coming back to life didn't help much either. 

On your second day, you were expected to start pitching in. You didn't mind helping, it was the way Shane approached you that rubbed you the wrong way. You offered to help hunt, fish, and go out looking for supplies, but he just laughed at you. He laughed like you were a child asking for a gun. He handed you a brush and sat you down beside Carol, who was washing clothes at the bottom of the quarry. 

You found comfort in familiarity. Which came in the form of something extremely unexpected, Merle Dixon. Maybe it was because you'd seen each other a few times at the corner store back near where you lived, maybe it was the fact he had respect for your folks, but when you were taken back to camp he didn't treat you the way he treated the other women. 

He wasn't respectful or chivalrous by any means, but he didn't treat you like a piece of meat. He didn't constantly try to get in your pants or speak to you in that slimy demeaning way he had with Andrea or Amy. You were grateful for it, even if you did catch him staring at your ass more than once, because he was the one thing that made you feel a little more at home with the group.

You'd never met his brother before. You'd seen him once, at the small mechanic shop near the corner store you'd occasionally see Merle in. Rednecks were anything but rare where you grew up, but something about Daryl felt different. He was quieter, more of Merle's shadow than his own person. But you knew just by looking at him that he was anything but somebody's shadow.

He saw you on your second day, after you'd done your morning “chores” and went to sit next to the campfire. He was carving something, maybe a bolt for his crossbow, and he barely looked up when you sat down across from him. 

Daryl looked up again, a spark of recognition in his eyes. His voice, strong and firm, called your name as if it was a question. 

“Yes?” You could see the exact moment the realization clicked that he did in fact remember you.

He didn't know much about you at all. He knew Merle knew your folks, and you lived pretty close, but he'd never actually spoken to you before. 

He did like to watch you, though, you'd always go into the corner store next to the mechanic shop and buy a coke and a bag of chips at lunch. He thought you were the prettiest woman he'd ever seen. Merle had a different set of words he'd prefer to use for you, but Daryl thought they felt too nasty. You weren't white trash, you were pretty, out of place, and the words ‘hot piece of ass' just didn't fit you. 

“Shit. Didn't think it was you when they said your name yesterday.” His fingers absentmindedly rubbed the length of his stick, looking over you a few times as he tongued the inside of his cheek in thought. “Huh. You seen Merle yet?” 

“Yeah, I got here yesterday morning.” You answered, the day before Daryl had been gone most of the day hunting. By the time he got back you were already in your new tent, something that Glenn had made sure to pick up when he brought you back to his group. 

“What happened? Your folks alright?” He asked, knowing it was strange for you to be here without your family and friends. 

“I have no idea. Don't remember much. We were real close to the city when the bombs went off, all I remember is fire and screaming and I woke up in the back of a gas station.” 

He nodded again, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he listened. 

Daryl wanted to stay with you, talk for a while, having a familiar face made him feel like less of an outsider. But from the corner of his eye he saw Shane with his hands on his hips in that stupid pose he liked to do when he was about to give someone  attitude. Daryl looked back to you and gathered his crossbow and bolts, muttering a quick excuse about needing to go hunt and that he'd see you around. He couldn't stand Shane, he'd only known him for a few weeks, give or take, and he was doing everything he could to avoid the wife fucker. 

Shane gave you a talking to that evening, warning you about the “backwoods rednecks”, even though you knew it wasn't out of the kindness of his heart. It was just another way to control the people in his camp, something he got off on doing. He didn't trust either of the Dixon brothers, that was for certain, but going out of his way to ‘warn’ you? It took everything in you to just nod and say okay. 

“When you gonna tap that, baby brother?” Merle's voice and the way he said it made Daryl cringe. He needed to do a better job about not staring at you so blatantly. 

“Not my type.” Daryl lied through his teeth, picking another strip of stringy squirrel meat from the stick he'd used to roast it over the fire. 

The Dixon brothers usually had a smaller, separate fire away from the main groups. It was mostly Merle's idea, he'd tell Daryl ‘they're not like us, keep your distance, we're just redneck trash to them.’. Not that Daryl gave a shit. He mostly thought the same anyways. 

You were at the group fire, sitting beside Andrea and Amy, who were busy chattering about how they wished they could catch some fish instead of surviving off tree rats and canned peas. You didn't mind it, even though you preferred larger game, meat was meat. You ate your squirrel like it was a gourmet dinner, something Daryl took note of.

“Not your type? Hah! That's bullshit and we both know it. She's everybody's type, boy, you better get on that before someone else does.”

Daryl wasn't sure who Merle was referring to. Glenn could barely speak to women, T-Dog was far too respectful, Shane was so far up Lori’s ass he had shit in his ears. (That's so gross I'm so sorry) 

The sound of harsh sniffing had Daryl looking away from you and back to his brother. He wiped the white residue from his nose and offered Daryl his large knife, containing another line. 

“Nah. I'm good.” Daryl waved him off, not feeling like being on uppers around all these people. Made his temper even shorter than it already was. “Careful with that shit, if Shane sees-”

“He ain't gonna do shit about it. I'd like to see him say somethin’.” The fact Merle was always looking for an excuse to butt heads had Daryl on edge. “Take it, and go take her off in the woods before I do.” 

It never took too much demanding from Merle before Daryl would give in. It was a fatal flaw in his character. He looked up to him and whatever he said went, even when he didn't really want to. So he took the coke and worked up the nerves to talk to you. 

You'd just finished washing everyone's stupid dirty dishes and went into the woods to piss when you saw Daryl again. You gasped as you walked around the tree you'd used for cover and saw him walking through the treeline, worried he'd seen you. But he was too focused on his steps, and that put you at ease. 

You walked up the half-assed trail to meet him, not feeling like chatting next to your pee puddle. 

“Hey, you going hunting?” You asked, slipping your hands in your shorts pockets. 

He shook his head as he reached you, snatching a stray stick out of his hair. “Goin’ down to some of the old shops down the road. Tired of all these canned peas. You comin’?”

You eagerly nodded, happy to be away from the group. They were nice enough, but since you normally hung around Merle, they treated you as someone they didn't fully trust. Especially Lori, Shane and Dale. The amount of times you caught Lori staring daggers into you every time you were within ten feet of Carl was starting to drive you insane. 

“Been wanting to get out and do something for days. Can't fucking stand Shane's micromanaging.” You said as you walked, wishing you would've known you'd be going on an impromptu supply run. You only had your knife, you'd prefer to have your Ruger your father had given you. It was in the RV, where Shane had taken it to ‘clean’. You were more than suspicious that he just didn't want you carrying a gun around camp. 

Daryl snorted. “Yeah. Can't stand that asshole. What kinda man-” He stopped himself, shaking his head. 

“What?” You looked over at him, careful not to trip on the multiple storm blown  branches from the larger trees. 

“Nothin’. Just don't like ‘em.” 

You were silent for a few minutes as you thought of something to say. You know, in apocalypse type situations, you mainly think about securing your next meal, how to not get killed in your sleep, how to protect your friends and family. But here you were, trying to think of what to say to a man you were steadily growing attracted to. You always thought he was cute before this, but seeing how capable he was, how he was so sure of himself, it was a side to him you didn't expect. It was like he was one of those people always secretly hoping for an excuse to go live in the woods and live in anarchy. 

“How attached are you to this group?” He asked, catching you off guard. 

“Not at all. Can't stand most of them. Why?” 

“Just thinkin’ about leavin’. Don't belong here with these people. Lori screamed at a damn snake the other day and got the kids all riled up.” He had a visible look of distaste on his face. Of all things to scream your head off at in an apocalypse, wildlife wasn't on your list. 

“Are you asking me to come?” You asked, unsuccessfully attempting to hide your excitement. The idea of splitting off with the Dixon brothers seemed your best bet, even if Merle was, well, Merle. You knew you were probably one of the only women on earth that didn't have to worry about him constantly trying to get in your pants. What you didn't know though, was that he was trying his damnedest to get his little brother laid, even if you were the daughter of a family friend. 

“Yeah. You don't belong here either.” You didn't know if it was true or not, but it felt true to you. 

“Sure. As long as I'm not gonna be a burden, or anything.” You knew you'd need to rely on the two of them for protection and some food, at least until you got used to your new life. You adapted fairly quickly. 

“Wouldn't’ve asked if you were.” 

“Alright, well, if you make up your mind, let me know.”

You arrived at the first store, a small gas station much like the one the two of you used to frequent back then. It was fairly untouched, but you knew it wouldn't be that way for long. 

You broke into a bag of jerky, thankful it was Daryl with you and not anyone else. If someone gave you a speech on taking care of the group before yourself you might just take off on your own without Daryl. 

He scored a bunch of chips, some cup noodles, and a 6 pack of beer for Merle. 

Instead of going back like you'd originally planned, you talked each other into going further off down the road to an old Dollar General. You stored your stash in a hollowed out log next to the road so you wouldn't need to carry it the entire time and carried on. 

“This was a great idea.” Your tongue was stained red from sour patch kids, you went through five bags and gave Daryl the greens and yellows. 

Daryl licked the sour crystals from his fingertips and grunted in agreement, tossing the empty bag over his shoulder off the roof that the two of you had gone up to to indulge in your spoils. 

You laid on your back and sighed, surrounded by empty snack bags and wrappers. “Fuck. I needed this.” Neither of you cringed at your corny comment, because although a cliche, you really, really did need this. 

Daryl hadn't eaten much besides the gummies, thanks to being pressured into taking the coke by Merle. He cursed himself for it, wishing he had the nerve to just say no and stick with it. 

He glanced over at you, your body orange in the light of the setting sun. You still wore those cute short Bobbie Brooks shorts he'd always seen you wearing around town. His eyes drifted to your legs and he let out a soft exhale, wishing he was as silver tongued as he thought his brother was. Even if the ladies rarely appreciated Merle's filthy flirting, he had to admit his one liners were pretty impressive sometimes. 

You opened your eyes and used your hand as a shield from the sun to look at him. You'd barely caught him staring at your legs, and felt a smile tug at your lips. 

“You wanna fool around?” You half joked, prepared to laugh if he turned you down. But the look on his face told you he really, really didn't want to turn you down. 

He froze for a moment, his eyes looking anywhere but you, his heart hammering against his chest. His thoughts ran frantic, from Merle telling him to have sex with you, and to you, who he was terrified to have sex with. He was suddenly very grateful for the coke he'd taken, and it clicked in his mind why Merle had been so insistent on him taking it. He knew he wouldn't last three minutes without it. 

“You serious?” He asked, his brows knitted tightly together from the sun and in concentration as he read your face. 

“Yeah, why not?” You shrugged, sitting upright so you didn't have to keep squinting up at him. You looked cool on the outside, but on the inside you were barely holding it together. You'd never thought of Daryl this way before, given you'd only seen him once before all this, but now that you were, it felt like you were about to potentially have sex with the hottest man on earth. 

“Uh, yeah, I guess.” 

Awkward was an understatement. Daryl didn't know what to do with his hands. His dick had been hard off and on the whole trip with you, despite the coke. He didn't know what would feel good to you, something he found himself oddly concerned with. His only experience with women was watching them getting fucked in porn, so he tried it that way. 

Your eyes widened in surprise when he quickly turned and leaned over you, his hands slipping up your shirt. He choked out a gasp, looking down at the outline of his hands as he squeezed your tits. You were caught off guard by his sudden boldness, and the way he was roughly groping your chest wasn't helping. You grimaced, about to tell him to ease up, but he caught your mouth in an unexpected kiss before you could speak. 

You were way too horny to care about how messy his kissing was. Truthfully, it was pretty hot, filled with so much desire and lust that it didn't matter he was inexperienced. The fact he was this eager just because of you had you moaning into his mouth. 

He took that as a sign he was doing something right and rolled your nipples between his fingers, doing what felt right. He pinched them, making you gasp against his lips, and he couldn't hide the crooked grin from his face. He pulled back just long enough to start unbuttoning your shirt. 

You took over for him, not wanting him to get impatient and rip off one of your only good shirts. When his eyes landed on your chest he whimpered, he fucking whimpered! You groaned at the sound and pulled him back against you by his shoulders, sinking your head into the crook of his neck to kiss the skin there. 

He hadn't expected you to do anything to him. In the videos he watched, most of the time the dude just rips her clothes off and fucks her in different positions for half an hour while she screams and moans like she's hurt. He hated that sound, the over exaggerated noises, he much preferred the noises you made. 

You laid down on your back, grateful the sun had sunk below the tips of the trees so it wasn't so bright anymore. He was on you in a second, now kissing your neck, eager to give you the same pleasure you were making him feel. The moan that rumbled in your chest made his heart jump, knowing he was doing something right. 

“God, s’so good.” You exhaled lazily, your eyes closing as he used his knee to kick your thighs apart for his waist. He quickly ground against you, a stifled groan stuck in his throat at the feeling of friction. 

“Take ‘em off.” He demanded, tugging impatiently at your shorts before he went to unbuckle his belt. You happily obliged, unbuttoning your shorts and dragging them down your thighs. 

When Daryl saw your lacy red panties he shivered. At camp, most of the underwear he saw hanging up were more… practical? The women had quickly changed their lace panties and thongs for boy shorts, but here you were, the skin around your hips indented obscenely from the way they hugged you like magic. 

“Fuck.” He exhaled deeply, his forehead resting against yours as he looked down at your body under his. He was really, really glad Merle gave him coke. Just the sight of you mostly naked under him had his cock throbbing painfully.

He finished with his pants, only pulling them down enough to drag his leaking dick out, his jaw dropping when he saw you shimmying out of your panties. His head spun, his mouth watered, and before he could even think he was scooting down to plant his face between your legs. 

You gasped, your head falling back against the rough flooring of the roof. He was so eager., so heartbreakingly eager to please you, it had your pussy so wet it was almost unbearable. His hot tongue was sloppy, inaccurate, it couldn't decide where it wanted to be. He'd be licking broad stripes one second, and the next he was swirling it around your clit. You were beginning to think maybe he wasn't as inexperienced as you believed. 

Daryl learned all he knew about sex from porn. If there was one thing he was fascinated about, it was giving head. One of the first things he always wanted to do was eat out a woman. He never thought it would be someone as hot as you. 

He tried everything he knew that made the women in videos moan, and to his surprise, you moaned the most when he kept it simple and just sucked your clit. So he did that, hollowing out his cheeks and sucking it into his mouth to roll his tongue around. 

You were in shambles. You tried desperately to pull at his hair, but it was too short to grab so you settled on sinking your nails into his scalp as you rolled your hips against his face and tried not to be so loud. 

Your jaw dropped and your eyes squeezed shut when he dug his tongue into the side of your clit, dragging your orgasm out so unexpectedly that you gasped. 

“Fuck, oh, oh god!” You sputtered, your thighs squeezing his head to hold him there as you came, your back arching and your toes curling so hard your foot almost cramped up. 

Daryl slipped his hand under him and grabbed his cock, stroking it as he felt your body tremble and jerk under him. He was sure this was a dream, he'd wake up any second in his tent with Merle snoring beside him and you all the way across camp. He squeezed his dick, milking the precum from his tip as your thighs finally relaxed. 

“My god. You're really good at that.” You panted, your eyes blurry as you watched him slide up your body and take its place on top of you. 

He grinned, knowing you were unintentionally starting to give him an ego. “Yeah?” He racked his brain for dirty talk, but since it was fried from making you cum, all he could come up with was “I got somethin’ I'm even better at.” Complete lie. 

You, on the other hand, had no idea he was a virgin, and grinned widely at the implications, shifting your body up till you felt his heavy cock graze against your inner thigh. The feeling alone sent a bolt through your body, and your chest heaved with deep excited breaths. 

He leaned up and grabbed your shoulder, signaling for you to turn over. You didn't question it and rolled over, propping yourself on your hands and knees. 

The sight of you from behind had him falling apart. He let out a quiet whimper and bit his bottom lip before grabbing his cock and scooting forward to push it against you. 

“Jesus, so fuckin wet.” He breathed, his heart beating so loud he could hear the blood in his ears. He slid his dick between your folds, going through all the steps in his head that he'd seen countless times. He even slapped it against your pussy a few times, missing the amused expression on your face, and pushed himself into you. 

What Daryl  didn't learn from porn was that usually, you go in slow when someone hasn't had sex recently. So when he just pushed his dick inside you with no hesitation you cried out, the burn from the unprepared stretching making you jolt forward. He grabbed your hips to bring you back against him, his jaw going slack as he felt your hot wet walls squeezing the life out of him. 

“Fuck!” You spat, the burning and stabbing pain almost enough to turn you off completely. “You gotta be slower than that, Daryl.” 

He was too deep to process what you said. He finally let out the breath he'd been holding with a deep, guttural groan, still frozen inside you. “Sah-Sorry.” He sputtered, his hands squeezing your hips so hard you knew for a fact there'd be ten little light purple bruises there tomorrow. 

Before you could say or do anything else he started moving, setting the pace quickly, snapping his hips against your ass so roughly your hands almost slipped out from under you. The uncomfortable stretch quickly faded into a deep, primal pleasure, and soon you were letting out short moans with every thrust of his hips. 

You barely got used to the feeling before he grabbed a fistful of your hair and yanked it back, drawing a cry from your throat. You weren't expecting this from Daryl, he was so confident, so rough, it confused you but drove you absolutely wild at the same time. 

His other hand kept its tight grip on your hip, pulling you back to meet each of his demanding thrusts, making sure his dick went as deep as possible each time. The way you were moaning and gasping fueled him to fuck you rougher, wanting to hear every sound that you were possible of making. 

“Dirty little whore.” He grunted, his jaw aching from how hard he'd been clenching his teeth. 

His words earned a strangled whimper from you, making his lips curl up in a cocky grin. 

He fucked you for a while like that, hips pounding against your ass so hard that the noises of your skin slapping was making your cheeks burn in embarrassed arousal. So much for keeping it quiet. 

“Hey-” The words were hard to get out from his aggressive thrusts, especially now that he was hunched over your body so he could squeeze your breasts. “I- wanna turn over.” 

He raised his chest from your back and took the opportunity to catch his breath while you shifted under him to roll over on your back. The look on your face made him shudder with a quiet gasp. Your face was tinted a light red, blissed out, your pupils blown and hair all messed up around your face. He was back on you immediately, kissing you hungrily as he slipped his cock back inside you, much easier this time. 

“Y’feel so fuckin’ good.” He breathed against your lips, wet from his sloppy kisses, and he kissed down your jaw to your neck. His accent was much thicker when he was inside you, barely pronouncing any words fully anymore. 

You wrapped your arms around his neck, and your legs around his waist, angling your hips up so he could drive his cock deeper into you. The new feeling made him moan pathetically into your neck, and he had to stifle the noises he didn't like with a bite to the skin where your neck met shoulder. 

The pressure of his teeth had your eyes rolling back in your head. There was so much stimulation, his dick driving relentlessly into your throbbing pussy, his fingers pinching your nipple and the other hand in your hair, pulling your head to the side to give him better access to your neck. A particularly deep thrust made you cry out, and you felt yourself nearing your second orgasm.

“Fuck!” You whined, your eyes squeezing tightly shut as you felt the tension building in your core as he fucked his dick into you. 

“That's it, y’gonna come for me?” His teeth drew away from your red neck, a string of spit connecting the two of you. 

All you could muster was an obscene “Mhmm!”, your thighs squeezing him tight around the waist. 

“C'mon girl.” His words were choppy from the force of his thrusts. He slowed for a second, readjusting himself before building back up to his former quick pace, each thrust sending your body scooting a little upwards along the floor of the roof. You were incredibly thankful it wasn't concrete. 

“Lemme hear it, c'mon.” His words alone were enough to send you falling over your edge. Your jaw dropped, your head tilting back as your back arched under his heavy body, and his arm slipped under you to hold your chest tight against his. 

The look on your face and the feeling of you cumming around his dick was all he needed. His face went slack and he let out a shameful whine, something he'd never heard himself make before, and came inside you. Neither of you noticed, too fucked out of your minds to even process it. 

You cried under him, twisting and squirming, impaled on his dick as your orgasm shook you to your core. Only when the final waves rolled off you did you relax, your eyes struggling to open as your breathing slowed.

Daryl raised his face from your chest and looked down at you, enjoying the look on your face as he regained his bearings. He ran his hands up and down your torso a few times, his eyes appreciating every little red mark on your neck and chest from his teeth.

 Only when the last jolts of pleasure left his body did he realize he came inside you. 

“Shit.” He grunted as he slowly drug his dick out of you, his breath catching in his throat when he saw the way his cum oozed out between your slick, puffy folds. 

“Hmm, ‘s fine.” You mumbled lazily, reaching up to push your hair from your face. “We're on top of a Dollar General. We'll get the morning after pill.” 

He nodded at your words, still hypnotized by the sight of his cum leaking out of you. A deep part of him wanted to stuff his dick back in you and keep it in, he didn't know why, but the idea was so hot he could've gone for a round two if you wanted. 

“We better get back.” You struggled to prop yourself up on your elbows, your weakened muscles protesting. The sun was well below the trees now, and if you got back when it was dark you knew Shane would throw a goddamn hissy fit. 

“We ain't gotta.” He half joked, a lazy grin on his face. “Can just stay here. Go back in the mornin’.”

You smiled, shaking your head, even though the idea was incredibly tempting. “Shane will kill us.”

“Fuck him.”

“I don't wanna piss him off when he's the one in possession of my gun right now.” Your words had him raising his brows and nodding in agreement. 

The two of you put your clothes back on and went through the back entrance, grabbing all your bags and making sure to pick up some morning after pills from the locked shelf behind the front desk. You caught him trying to discreetly grab some condoms, not knowing you saw, and you felt excitement bubble in your chest at the prospect of him expecting this to happen again. 

Thankfully Shane wasn't in camp when you snuck back in. He was down by the quarry, catching frogs or some shit, and you were able to share your spoils with the group before he came to ask questions. 

“Well, shit. Look at you.” Merle was smiling ear to ear, clapping Daryl on the back after he went to his brother's tent with a bag of goodies. 

It was extremely obvious what the two of you had done. Your hair was still messy despite you brushing it with your fingers on the way back, your face pink, your neck red. You were climbing into your own tent as Merle watched you from across camp. 

Daryl's neck and face were also red, and he had a few scratch marks on the back of his neck. 

And his fly was still down. 

“Shut up.” Daryl shrugged his brother's hand off him, opening a bag of Funyuns.

“My baby brothers no longer a fuckin’ loser!” He laughed, giving a wolf whistle before playfully ruffling his hair. “Atta boy. I told you.” 

“Ya’ ain't tell me shit.” Daryl grumbled, stuffing Funyuns in his mouth to hide the smile that was creeping onto his face. 

“Hey.”

“What?” Daryl groaned, exasperated already. 

“Think she’ll give me a ride?”

“Shut the hell up, man.” 

[creganslover]

Cregan Stark with

“It’s okay. It’s okay. I’m right here, okay? I’m not gonna leave you. I’m never gonna leave you.”

cregaaaaaaan <333 sorry if its short!

warning/s: mentions of kidnapping, slight violence, cregan being worried

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

You had gotten taken, someone had managed to sneak into Winterfell and had a target upon you, Cregan Stark’s spouse. They were smart enough to attack at the time when Cregan had been off to the Wall to check on his men in training. 

All of Winterfell had been alerted of your missing presence, causing alarm and panic from your people, with Cregan left with no knowledge of your taking. 

Until a raven had been sent to the Wall. 

Cregan was absolutely fuming, the spouse he had promised to return to, that he promised to take care of until snow seeped into his bones- taken at the time of his absence. 

His horse took him home, few of his elite men following suit as Cregan was nearly going berserk with worry and agitation, the folk witnessing as their Lord torn the walls apart with his booming voice, demanding as to why his spouse was not guarded that night and why had they let the intruder take them easily. 

Cregan began thinking of the possibilities of who could have done this, it could have been anyone, sending out patrols whilst getting no ounce of sleep, mind running million miles an hour. Were you well? Had they hurt you? Or worse, killed you? 

Yet the news of an unknown camp sighting came within the sights of Wolfswood, Cregan hopped onto his mount before one could even speak his name. 

It had been a long search, a day or three when Cregan and his men narrowed it down and found indeed the camp within Wolfswood, overhearing the men laughing and celebrating the capture of you followed by your cries made his blood run cold. 

In a matter of moments, their entertainment was cut short by Cregan appearing, demanding his partner be released or face such consequences, the leader had been surprised and made the mistake of taunting Cregan, not knowing he would go through the Seven Hells and back for his other half. 

Cregan gave the signal, and his men came out from the woods, dealing with the goons. Cregan then searched until he had stumbled upon a lone tent, his heart fearing the worst as he neared and grasped the flap of the tent. 

There you were, shivering and tied to a post. Thankfully, you did not look too harmed nor defiled, Cregan kneeling as you shook, realizing it was him as he cut off your ropes, wasting no time in embracing his burly frame, shaking in his hold. 

Cregan wrapped his strong arms around you, murmuring in his deep voice, clutching you tighter as he rubbed warmth onto your back. “It’s okay,” he began. “They’re gone, it’s okay. I’m right here, okay? I’m not gonna leave you. I’m never gonna leave you.” He told you, shrugging off his own furs to wrap around you. 

You can ensure that once you get back to Winterfell, Cregan would punish those who had failed to protect you that night, sending them to the Wall as he replaced them, you had also noticed him be hesitant when he is required to leave you, even for a short while. But as you kept reassuring him when you had felt better and regained your strength and life, Cregan could slowly see your usual self coming back. 

Cregan entered your shared chambers, wanting nothing more but to get back to you after his responsibilities, shrugging off his cloak of furs before he joined you on the bed. “Are you alright?” He always asks, holding onto your hand. 

Leaning in to nuzzle against his form, you sighed in content as you placed your hand over your man’s chest. “I am, do not worry.” You reassured. 

“Thank you, Cregan.” You voiced after a beat of silence, which he returned with placing his lips against yours, giving your hand a light squeeze. 

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

cregan tag-list: @misswynters

[insolentgod]

reminder extremely tough and maybe a little harsh.

a lot of folks gotta work themselves to death just to have a halfway comfortable life, some don't even have the basics. many will have to do crazy stuff for money and others dream of giving their loved ones a good life but can't. some will only be able to see luxurious lifestyles on phone screens or in other people's TikTok accounts. and others don't even have the money to pay for internet to see that.

lots of people will spend years hating themselves, hating their appearance, personality, social life, social status, skills, everything about themselves. many live with insecurities, feeling like a supporting character in their own story, some have things that bother them but it's "impossible" to change them so they'll just have to live with it. others spend a fortune on surgeries or treatments to change something about themselves, and many die because of it.

many people will have to live trying to recover from traumas and bad things that hit them, without knowing how to simply erase them from their lives, and unfortunately, some prefer to end their own lives so they don't have to live with those burdens.

many people will have to face horrible diseases, some they simply can't get rid of and others that are incurable. suffering, waiting for a miracle to free them from this torture.

some folks may never achieve their personal goals and dreams, out of fear, lack of opportunity, lack of means, or because they think it's impossible for them. so consequently they will have to surrender to a mediocre life that they hate.

many people will have to spend years in shitty relationships without knowing how to get out, others will see the love of their life being happy with someone else, others will think that love only serves to deeply hurt them, and others will accept horrible things from their partners because they think they don't deserve anything better.

a lot of folks unfortunately live out there lonely, without love, without a good social circle, without friends, with an abusive family, with people who don't want the best for them, with people who only hurt them and make them think that's what they deserve.

you might think I'm a jerk for talking about such harsh examples and I'm sorry if I hurt anyone, but damn..

all these examples I mentioned are really sad and they leave us with a heavy heart thinking that a lot of people go through this. I think everyone deserves a dignified and happy life, you deserve a dignified and happy life. you don't deserve to be like those people in the examples I mentioned, and you're not. because you have a key in your hands. it's like life is a damn game and you have all the hacks and cheats to simply WIN and do whatever you want, while other people don't even dream of that or are too skeptical to try.

but you know what's funniest about this? it's that this shit ain't just any game, it's your life. it's literally your damn life and you're there playing with the law? saying "oh I can't" "oh persisting is too hard" "I think I'll never have my desires".

girl, I'll kill you if you keep thinking like that.

there are folks who just don't take the loa seriously, and that's why they never fulfill their desires!!!!!!!!!!!! and they won't have anyone to blame for their failure but themselves!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

the LOA community is very small, discovering about it was extremely lucky. so tell me a good reason why you know about it and simply can't manifest? exactly. there isn't one! you can and you should.

I'm not here to judge your difficulties in manifesting (even if I judge everything and everyone), because having difficulties and keep trying is one thing and simply giving up and saying "I can't manifest" is another.

it was a blessing from the universe, God, higher power, whatever you believe in. you discovering LOA was the damn greatest blessing of your life, don't you see that? don't you really see how blessed you are? maybe in the past you've been through hell, but now, my love, the sun is shining for you, you just have to want to shine. unfortunately a lot of people will never have that luck, there are people who would kill to be blessed like this. so please, I beg you... use this tool and have the damn happiest life you can, enjoy it and stop playing with the law.

tell me what do you really want? a true and light love? have a look that would never make you feel insecure again? being the pride of mommy and daddy and having their love? having that beautiful house and a happy family? finally healing from depression or other mental disorders and finally being able to live to the fullest? friends who really care about you? want to meet that idol you've been a fan of for a long time and that everyone thinks your passion for him is silly? want to live in that country far away from everyone? want to stop feeling that guilt or any other bad feeling that has been tormenting you for a long time? want to be truly happy for the first time in your life? want to be rich, a millionaire, billionaire, trillionaire? or just have enough money to lead a comfortable life and never have to work again? go ahead, tell me what you want. you can have it.

stop suffering, you don't deserve to suffer. enough torture. take what's yours and move on. you're strong enough for that. the game ain't over for you, you can't just give up like that. the game is yours, it obeys you, and it ends when you decide. take freaking control.

i suffered a lot in life, i hope one day i have the courage to tell you about my success here. and I simply don't know what I would do without finding out about LOA, just thinking about it fills my heart with gratitude. I feel like a winner. you deserve to feel this peace of having won too.

God bless you. take care of yourselves and put your head to work.

i ain't that selfish. if you need some backup, im here for you, babe. I wanna see you win. 🌟

[heartfullofleeches]

Loser Catboy Streamer gets paid big bucks to promote the reopening of a fancy cafe by hosting a meet and greet for fans. They're insulted - offended the owners think they'd sell themself for some quick cash and demean themselves further by throwing on a maid dress for their pathetic simps, but a few more zeros helps them squeeze into the outfit a lot easier.

In the same venue where they're being smothered by fans and exchanging handshakes for entire life savings, an important business meeting takes place. Most of the table is annoyed that their peaceful spot had been overrun by some bad-mouthed stray and the folks who enable their ways, but the head of the table sees something different. They rise from their seat to address the commotion as the steamer harshly shoves a guest who'd grabbed their tail without permission out the booth they shared.

-

"Cat."

Fixing your skirt and hiding your tail beneath, posion sits on your tongue directed at the next person to bother you quickly swallow as you turn your eyes towards them. A chilling ran down your spine from their cold stare and physique to uphold their hardened look. Defined muscles salient through the binds of their tight suit, healing scars over the bones of their knuckles and fists. You will your terror into a smile as you shrink under their gaze.

"S-sorry if we were being too loud. The last customer pulled on my tail pretty hard and-

You flinch as they slam their hand down on the table - sliding a rolled wad of bills towards you.

"Come here...."

Eyeing them cautiously, you snatch the money as they sit in the booth inches from you. You scoot over, hairs on end as their large hand shuts the short distance bewteen you. You expect brute force to snap your neck like a twig as their fingers come into contact with your skin - curling upwards to scratch light at your chin. You purr softly - smile forming on their scarred lips.

"Good kitty. You're coming with me."

"But, my contract says I have to be here for another-"

The strangers places another stack of bills in your apron.

"I'll... go get my coat."

-

Where their underlings see a wild beast that should be locked in a cage, the boss sees a lost kitten in need. All that attention on them yet nobody's taking care of them properly telling by their diet and inability to groom themselves on a regular bases. The boss takes them in and handles these faults while catboy reader wonders what sort of hell they've gotten themselves into. They can't be too upset with frequent spa trips and fresh home-cooked meals, but sometimes they do miss being able to stuff garbage into their mouth. Living with their new "owner", they still stream everyday which their caretaker uses to monitor them while at work. They're given odd glances for watching a cat streamer stream video games in their position, but no one is brave enough to even whisper about their odd behavior.

Loser Catboy sometimes joins them at the office, sitting in their lap as any normal cat would. They absolutely hate wearing their collar, but diamonds do look amazing on them

[anexperimentallife]

So you want leftist candidates? Here's how you get them:

First off, you have to understand that the far right didn't just wake up one day and say, "We should fuck up the country!" They have been OPENLY working for decades to fill literally every elected or appointed government position they could with Christian Dominionists and other right-wingers, and these folks show up to the polls EVERY SINGLE TIME.

When I was a kid in a far right church in the 1960s, they openly discussed how important is was to get their people into office who would help pass legislation to persecute/imprison/kill anyone who didn't follow their religion. If there's no one sufficiently right-wing running, they'll vote for whomever is closest, even if it gags them. And I cannot emphasize enough that they have long term goals that they are willing to take--and HAVE taken--generations to achieve.

The overturning of Roe v. Wade, for example, is a DIRECT RESULT of the decades-long effort by the far right to boost the most far-right-leaning candidates they could find. They've been talking for decades SPECIFICALLY about getting enough far right judges in SCOTUS to overturn Roe v. Wade. And these SCOTUS appointments are for LIFE, so these judges get to set policy for your GRANDCHILDREN.

So yes, the overturning of Roe v. Wade was only made possible because Trump was able to appoint three SCOTUS judges, in addition to all the other federal judges he appointed. Amd they're talking about going after same-sex marriage, minority rights, etc.

(Hell, the judge in charge of his secret documents case is one that he appointed--she has indefinitely postponed that case,by the way.)

And you don't think local school board elections are important? Have you not seen the news about all the anti-queer policies, and all the book-bannings? This, also, has a generational effect.

Meanwhile the left refuses to turn up to the polls because none of the candidates are pure enough. So guess why things are getting worse?

If the Left turned out for the most left-leaning candidate at EVERY SINGLE ELECTION, whether local or state or whatever, including primaries, we'd start seeing more leftist candidates. Yes, that means that if there's a choice between two extreme right wing candidates, you vote for the least extreme one.

I know I keep emphasizing that this is not just about POTUS, but POTUS does figure in, of course (among other things, who do you think appoints judges for congress to approve?).

So swallow this pill: Anything shitty Biden is doing, the shitgibbon will do MORE of.

"Not gonna vote Biden because he supports genocide, so I'd rather the guy win who ALSO supports genocide, wants Russia to invade more countries, thinks it's fine if China retakes Taiwan, wants a nationwide abortion ban, removal of civil rights for minorities, wants to overturn same-sex marriage (which the right-leaning majority in SCOTUS are already talking about), to cut back the role of congress in checking executive actions (including workarounds to avoid the need for congressional confirmation for presidential appointees), to remove federal employee protections so federal personnel can be replaced with Trump loyalists, and so on! That'll teach those Dems a lesson! THEN they'll be sorry. And fuck everyone the bad guys hurt, because I'll still be PURE. So what if top GOP officials want to actually NUKE Gaza?"

That's fucking kindergartner thinking.

Yes, Biden is a piece of shit, but I am not waxing at all hyperbolic when I say that a second orange shitgibbon term, with a far-right-majority SCOTUS--especially if the GOP manages majorities in both houses of congress--may be the end of what little is left of Democracy in the US. Not gonna argue about it, because I don't waste my time with petulant children.

Look at the GOP's plans for a Republican administration, and tell me you think it sounds better than another term of Biden. Hell, they've even set up online trainings and loyalty tests to narrow down potential federal hires to those who will commit to follow Trump without question.

I repeat: If you want more leftist candidates, if you want more worker power, if you want billionaires taxed, if you want to protect minorities and the queer community, you have to adopt the strategy that the right has used, educate yourself about what candidates stand for, and show up EVERY SINGLE TIME. Again, that includes primaries.

So many of us on the left would rather sit in the basement dreaming of some magical revolution that's going to fix everything, giving ourselves and others purity tests, and proudly announcing that we're... boycotting democracy by not voting(?), "because none of the candidates are a good choice."

Yeah, the left refusing to vote--or only voting in presidential elections--while the right turns up every time is exactly how we got here.

And you have to support the most left-leaning candidate even if it makes you gag, and even if "most left-leaning" means "not as openly fascist." This is the ONLY way you can be assured of candidates getting further to the left in the future. (Note that this means learning about your local candidates.)

"But voting won't fix--" I never said it was going to fix everything. There's no rule that if you vote, you can't volunteer with Food Not Bombs, or run for school board, or demonstrate, or circulate petitions. It takes more than voting, but voting has to be PART of our strategy.

You also have to accept that it may take decades to change course, and that you're not going to like every candidate you have to vote for.

The right didn't just magically get the orange shitgibbon into office overnight. It took decades of work. And if we want decent human beings in charge, we have to be willing to do the same.

[euphoriaslux]

we can’t be friends

summary: you hate vincent. vincent hates you. and yet somehow you end up in his bedroom.

word count: 4262( i… am so sorry.)

warnings: fem reader, smut(f oral receiving) vincent being a meanie, drinking and smoking, disrespect of the french justice system (désolé) me making head canons about vincent’s family life, some mischaracterization of sandra (ily sandra huller)

a/n: folks i was locked in when i was writing this, can you tell because it’s autocapitalized? i was Serious! this was supposed to be like a thousand words and ended up being 4k… i apologize i have to spread my illness (being my obsession with swann). i had SO much fun writing this i hope yall enjoy, all the reblogs on my first post make me all warm and fuzzy. drop some requests if you’d like, and im going to make a masterpost of all the fictional characters im obsessed with bc i’m chronically online. i’ve reread this like a million times so if there are any spelling errors i simply do not see. enjoy!!! <3

You cannot fucking believe you’re going to be late to trial.

Well, actually, you can believe it. Somehow, during the two hours of sleep you got last night, you managed to unplug both your alarm clock and your phone charger, leaving you to blissfully sleep through the multiple alarms you had set the night before. It was only when your cat sprawled across your face, her paws tickling your eyelashes as she eagerly awaited her breakfast, that your body decided to wake you up. An hour after you were supposed to.

Your methodically planned out morning routine for the indictment today was quickly replaced by you sprinting around your apartment muttering curse words under your breath and trying not to trip over the copious amounts of documents on your floor. You nearly cried when your tangled hair would not cooperate with you, but somehow managed to make yourself look halfway presentable. You didn’t have the time to be stressed today, especially because of the attention you know this case is going to get.

And because you knew you were going to see him.

After driving like a bat out of hell in the Parisian rain, violating multiple traffic laws, you somehow make it to the courthouse only one minute late. Jogging up the steps, you push the door open and yell out apologies to the bewildered lawyers and judges in the courthouse as you sprint against the browned hardwood floor, your briefcase thumping against your side in tandem with your heartbeat. Your eyes scan the chamber numbers and you breathe a sigh of relief once you find the one that matched the summons notice, pausing to smooth down your pantsuit set and pat the beads of sweat off of your forehead.

You push open the chamber doors as gently as you can, but you quickly realize there is no use as every head in the room turns towards you, gawking at you. Some have a slight frown on their face, looking at you with thinly veiled pity, but most have a clear show of annoyance. With your head down you speedwalk over to your team’s side of the chambers, pulling out a few labeled folders before you place your briefcase next to your seat. You take a deep breath and force yourself to look up, and right across from you is the defendant’s lawyer.

Vincent is wearing a black turtleneck and a matching black blazer, with effortlessly swooped gray hair and his arms crossed over his chest. He looks perfect, too perfect, in a way that pisses you off. He’s already staring at you when you glance at him, his mouth slightly turned upward as he leans over to talk to his client Sandra, maintining eye contact with you as his whispers in her ear.

“Glad you made time to join us Mademoiselle,” the judge says as she shuffles some papers around, using a few fingers to wave over a magistrate to her right, ostensibly for the indictment sheets.

“I am so, so sorry I-” you start before the judge moves her hand to wave you off, finally sparing you a sharp glance.

“Enough time has been wasted. Let us proceed, yes?” she asks, and you almost start to answer before you realize it was rhetorical. There are a few quiet laughs in the courtroom and you fix your eyes on your folder, feeling like a child who was just scolded in class for sneaking a cookie from the lunchroom. You feel Vincent’s eyes on you but you don’t dare to look up. You won’t give him the satisfaction.

Sandra was indicted, of course. This case was going to be a media circus because of her literary career, and you knew this was not going to be an open-and-shut case. Part of you hated trials like these - when the media would decide an angle that they found the most titillating and not leave a single person involved alone until they got a headline that matched their narrative. Another part of you, a massive part of you, hated working with Vincent. You could just constantly feel the smugness dripping off of him, and with every snarky comment and reply you could sense the anger just drilling deeper and deeper into you. Each interaction you had with him managed to make you even more and more mad. At least you’d hopefully only see him for another couple of months.

five months later

Like clockwork, you stepped out of your taxi to be bombarded by reporters with an endless sea of microphones and cameras, a cacophony of aggressive voices yelling your way. You keep your head down and try to push through the crowd, noticing Vincent talking to a reporter with Sandra to his side. You hear a few words, noticeably about Sandra’s innocence and the ignorance of the defense, and that word makes you stop in your tracks. Reporters are asking you questions but you look for the first microphone you can find and start to talk, making sure to project your voice.

“Judicial integrity is what’s most important to me. Not a narrative, not a story. I took an oath to protect this country. Some people don’t take that seriously, but I do, and that’s what I am focused on.”

There is a sea of follow-up questions but you weave through the hoard of people to the top steps of the courtroom, making your way inside. You arrived a bit early to trial today because you knew Daniel, Sandra’s son, was testifying today. You couldn’t shake the unease you’d had all week knowing you had to cross-examine him, seeing his grief-stricken face as he heard the prosecution and defense make a myriad of accusations about the one parent he had left.

“Were you talking about me?”

Vincent’s voice makes you jump, and you turn around to see him staring at you from behind the court pew. You must’ve had a look of confusion on your face because he then clarifies:

“Outside, when you were talking to the reporter from Euronews. Are you implying that I don’t have judicial integrity?” he cocks his head at you, his eyebrows slightly raised. You shrug, grabbing the manila folders with notes from your bag and putting them in front of your seat.

“If the shoe fits, I suppose,” you say with a tight smile as you sling your bag from your shoulder to under your chair. Vincent scoffs, lightly brushing his hair out of his face.

“Right, I should have looked to the attorney who walks in late smelling like cheap wine for… integrity,” he emphasizes that last word, each letter feeling incredibly loud in the silent courtroom. You feel the heat rise from the back of your neck, both in embarrassment and fury. You take a step towards him and he doesn’t move, your faces only a few inches apart.

“Do you think you’re any better? You took this case because you are plagued with this superiority complex that you have to subject everyone to.”

“Hm, so being a good lawyer makes you think I have a superiority complex, good to know,” Vincent says, touching his chin in mock curiosity. Jesus Christ, this guy irritates you.

“No actually, I think I figured it out,” you say with a laugh, poking your finger at his chest.

“Is it because you used to fuck Sandra, and this is some weird fucked up sort of foreplay that you’re forcing us to watch? I wonder if there’s a tape in evidence, of Sandra telling her now-dead husband how many times you two had shitty sex.”

Your sentence sits in the air as the smirk falls from Vincent’s face.

“Do not project whatever bullshit you’ve created in your mind onto me,” he says, staring at you with an intensity that makes you start to squirm.

“You don’t know me, Vincent,” you turn to end the conversation but Vincent grabs your arm, turning you back around to look at him.

“But I think I do,” he says, and you are so close that you can make out the pack of cigarettes in his jean pocket through his cloak is what’s pressing against your thigh.

“I think you put on this show, that you are meek and timid, but it is all an act. Every movement of yours is calculated. Nothing you do has any underpinning of integrity.”

You feel tears well in your eyes and you quickly wipe them away, opening your mouth to speak as the chamber doors open and members of the jury begin to walk in.

“Fuck you,” you tear your arm away from his grip and walk back to your seat.

four months later

It’s been two weeks since the trial ended. The chaotic hustle and attention has died and reporters are gone, with no more requests for comment or interviews on morning TV filling up your inbox. You were called to the courthouse to go over some documentation that the court needed to provide a final report on the case, arriving late on a Saturday night. You shudder as you get out of the taxi, the chill of Paris air sparing no part of your body. You wrap your jacket around yourself and sit on the sidewalk, taking a deep breath as you prepare to go into that same courtroom. You put your head in your hands and sit in silence for what feels like forever until a familiar voice breaks the stillness.

“Hey.”

You don’t move a muscle when you hear Vincent’s voice, hoping that somehow if you stayed completely still he’d believe you were a figment of his imagination and he’d leave you alone. Instead, he takes a seat next to you, the corduroy fabric of his trousers very gently grazing your skirt.

“If you’ve come to gloat, I’m truly not in the mood,” your say, your voice muffled by your hands over your mouth. Vincent says nothing but you hear him rustling through his pants and then the familiar click of a lighter, and you bring your face up to see Vincent taking a drag of a cigarette. He breathes out wafts of smoke, and after a beat, extends his hand towards you. You glance down at the cigarette and then back at him, and he is still looking forward at the architecture across from you. Plucking the cigarette from between his fingers you inhale deeply, tilting your head up to blow the smoke into the sky. You both sit in the quiet for a few moments as you smoke about half of the cigarette. He doesn’t seem to mind, or at least doesn’t say anything.

“How do you feel?” he finally asks, and you chuckle as you take another inhale.

“How do you think I feel?” you look to him and he nods, taking the cigarette from you. You try and ignore the tingly feeling in your stomach when his lips touch the same part of the cigarette that yours did, with no hesitation.

“Did you genuinely believe she was guilty?”

The question throws you off guard.

“I don’t know.” you answer honestly, bringing your knees up to rest your hands on top of them.

“I don’t often think anything is too personal in a court of law, but that phone call with Sandra and Samuel felt, invasive?”

“It didn’t seem like you had any qualms when you were questioning about it,” he questions.

“Well of course not. I wanted to win.”

Vincent laughs, a real deep laugh, and you can’t help but crack a small smile at the noise. You realize you hadn’t heard it before, at least not before it preceded an insult hurled your way.

“What do you mean, invasive?”

It’s hard to collect your thoughts on his question, and you are suddenly transported back into that courtroom, listening to that call.

“It was like I felt every molecule of anger, resentment, disappointment. I just felt like I was right there in the middle, taking both of their punches. Like,” you take a beat, trying to formulate your words.

“Like I was their son, with no vision of what was happening but so desperately aware of the anger in the air. And feeling guilty that I caused it, somehow.”

Vincent hums.

“I’m sorry with how often I pried, about you and Sandra,” your voice is quiet, and you pick at the straps of your heels.

“It’s okay. It was a long time ago. The feelings I have for her have changed.”

This time you hum, unsure of what to say. For the first time in your years of knowing him, you feel bad about possibly making Vincent uncomfortable. You’re not sure why. You sit in awkward silence for a couple of minutes before you stand up, brushing the stray tufts of cigarette ash that stuck to your skirt.

“Well, I won’t keep you, I have to go turn in evidence of my defeat” you gesture towards the papers in your hands. “And you have to go celebrate, I presume.”

Vincent stands up as well, flicking the cigarette onto the floor and stomping it out with his boot.

“No celebrating for me,” he says with his hands raised. You smile, and he does the same.

“How will you be … coping?” he asks and you roll your eyes.

“Not sure, probably at home with a really cheap bottle of wine.”

His lips purse as he puts his hands into his pockets. “I guess I deserve that.”

You rock slightly on your balls and feet, not sure if you should walk away from him or not. You’re just about to step out of his way when he starts talking.

“I have a nice Pinot Grigio I’ve been waiting to open, if you’d, you know, like to … join,” Vincent’s voice gets quieter as he keeps talking, and you swear you can see a soft pink hue on his cheeks, but perhaps that was the night playing tricks on you.

“I don’t want to impose-”

“You wouldn’t be,” he cuts you off. “I’ll wait for you out here?”

-

Vincent’s house - not apartment - was somehow exactly and nothing like what you would have imagined. It’s a one-story Victorian-style home with a dark exterior, but the inside is painted a warm yellow with tons of books littering the floors and walls and miscellanous trinkets and birthday cards tucked in between. There’s empty pizza boxes and wine bottles on the kitchen floor, and through his tall back window you can see a mini garden in his backyard, with vines of tomatoes and bushels of leafy greens sprawled amongst the grass. It looks very lived in - you can imagine Vincent waltzing around in the morning, reading his big law books with big glasses of wine, like the one you have in your hand right now.

The two of you are currently halfway deep into a bottle, talking about nothing and everything. The case, bad clients you’ve had before, your favorite pastry shops in Paris, the funny face that one of the Magistrates makes every time the Judge looked at him.

“Thank you for the wine monsieur,” you say with a dip of your head and an exaggerated bow.

Vincent shakes his head before taking a sip of wine, and you notice how the soft pink you thought you had noticed before has turned into a deep red from his forehead to his chest. Vincent being tipsy was such an odd thought to you that you couldn’t control your laughter, your hand flying up to cover your mouth as you started to giggle incessantly.

“What? Is there something on my face?” Vincent giggles alongside you, and you shake your head no.

“The serious, smart lawyer is wine-drunk with the person he probably hates the most. I could not have imagined ever being in this situation,” you manage to collect yourself, putting your hand over your chest as you take the final sip in your glass and wave off Vincent as he motions to pour you another one.

“I don’t hate you,” Vincent mutters as he pours himself another glass of wine.

“You’re pretty good at acting like you do.”

He just nods. Suddenly the air in the room has changed, and it feels constricting. Like all of the arguments and venomous insults you’ve thrown at each other has coagulated in this massive living room

“I actually, um, envy you a lot of the time.”

“Envy me?” you can’t help your incredulous tone after his sentence. “You don’t have to say things to pity me, you know,” you laugh, but Vincent’s face is still serious.

“You are just naturally someone people want to spend time with. Even when you annoy me beyond belief, some part of me is always, drawn to you, I suppose. And I envy that. I don’t really know who I am without doing things for others.

You furrow your brows at his sentence. “What do you mean?” you lean over your chair to be a bit closer to him. He plays with the silver ring on his index finger.

“Sometimes I feel like the people I’ve loved, only want me when I can do something for them, you know? I mean, even my own mother, I remember- ” he stops to take a large sip of wine.

“I was almost done with primary school, and my Dad was gone on some inane business trip. I told her I wanted to go to a birthday party downtown, and that I wouldn’t be able to make dinner that night. She got so mad at me that she threw the bottle of wine she’d nearly finished at my head.” He swirls his wine glass around staring into it.

You put your hand on top of his, and he looks up at you, staring into your eyes before clasping his hand arond yours.

“I’m really sorry,” you whisper. He shrugs, and before you can stop yourself, you bring his hand up to your mouth and press a featherlike kiss against his skin. Vincent’s eyes are glassy, and he separates his fingers from yours to place his hand against your face, his thumb gently caressing your jaw.

“Do you have more cigarettes?” you ask, softening into his touch.

“In my bedroom.”

His statement - his ask - reverberates through your head as you both stare at each other, trying to discern what will happen next. Your thoughts are so loud that you’ve afraid that somehow they’ll extend out into the room.

is he saying what i think he is?

And normally, you would say a snarky remark about how he wishes he could get you in his bedroom, and how you’d rather die than see where he sleeps, but the wine has made you slightly woozy and all you can think about is how good he looks with his hair gently sticking to his face and his t-shirt tight around his arms, and what it would feel like to fuck him.

So you say “okay”, and leave your phone on the dining room table.

Vincent opens his bedroom door, moving to let you walk in first before closing the door behind him. He opens his mouth to speak and before you can think your mouth is on his, and he’s shocked for a moment before he kisses you back, your lips melding together. You push your body into his as Vincent wraps his arms around your waist, his hands digging into your skin as he quietly moans into your mouth. Your intertwined bodies make it to the bed and he hovers on top of you, his hard cock pressing against your thigh and you reach down to touch him over his jeans, feeling him shudder against you. You pull away from him.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” his voice is a little hoarser than it was before. “I’m okay.”

“Good,” you pull your shirt over your head and tug at the bottom of his and he laughs he does the same, and you admire his shirtless body as he reaches back down to kiss you again, but he’s not as gentle this time. He’s aggressive, dipping his tongue into your mouth and holding your face in his hands.

“So beautiful”, he murmurs, tilting your head so he can suck on your neck and graze his teeth against the bruises spot he left. “So much more beautiful than I imagined”.

Your head falls back on the pillow as you feel his hands reach behind your back and unclip the hooks on your bra, his mouth moving to your breasts and licking your nipples.

“You’ve imagined me?” you pretend to be bashful as your mouth falls into an o-shape, feeling Vincent’s mouth on your chest and his hands on . He moans and you can feel it throughout your whole body as you lean down to shimmy out of your skirt and underwear in one move.

“In every way possible,” he says as he dips a finger down, past your belly button and into your cunt. You’d feel embarrassed at how wet you are already if his hand didn’t feel so good inside of you.

“I’ve thought about what you would taste like, how you would sound when I first fuck you for the first time,” his mouth moves down from your chest, leaving a trail of wet kisses down your abdomen before he’s just above your heat and you sigh, involuntarily jerking your hips up. He puts his free hand around your lower stomach to hold you in place.

“But nothing,” he nips at the spot right in the crease of your hip, licking a long stripe just next to your heat.

“Could’ve come close to how pretty you really are.”

“Christ,” your hands grab fistfuls of Vincent’s sheets as his tongue finally swirls around your clit, pressing just a bit harder as he puts another finger inside of you. You can feel the pressure building in your lower stomach as you and Vincent’s grip on your stomach get firmer as you wriggle under his touch. He groans into your mouth as you start to grind your hips into him, fucking you faster with his fingers as he rolls his hips into the bed.

“Vincent,” you say with a gasp and grip his hair, pulling as you come around his mouth, your head dizzy with the feeling of Vincent’s tongue on you as he stares up at you from between your legs. He pulls his hand out of your cunt and licks his fingers before putting his mouth back on your clit, making you jump at the contact. You hiss as he licks the sensitive area, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as you tug so hard on Vincent’s hair that you’re afraid you’re hurting him, but if you are, he doesn’t stop you. He interlocks his fingers across your stomach and holds you into place, groaning into your clit.

“Okayokayokay,” you move your hands from his hair to head to pull him up, your breathing labored as you try to get yourself together. He leans over to kiss you, his lips softly molding against yours as you wrap your arms around his back.

Breathless, you move your hand down to touch Vincent but he quickly stops you.

“It’s- um-”

You look down and notice the wet spot on Vincent’s boxers, and your eyebrows raise to the top of your forehead as you come to the realization that he came while he was eating you out.

“Did you-”

Vincent groans, hiding his face in your neck as you giggle, coming down from your high.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” you thread your fingers through his now disheveled hair. “It’s kind of hot if I’m being honest.” Vincent looks at you with a questioning look but you just smile.

“Plus, we have all night to try again.”

-

You wake up in Vincent’s bedroom, with a few strips of sunlight peeking through Vincent’s closed blinds. You haphazardly reach over to his side of the bed to grab his arm, but find it empty, raising your head from the pillow to see that you’re completely alone. Vincent’s clothes that he had taken off during the night and tossed onto the floor were gone. You waited to see if you could hear Vincent in his kitchen, or in the garden, but you were in complete silence.

To be fair, he didn’t say anything last night to insinuate that he wanted a relationship with you, or even liked you. Maybe this was secretly a win for him - he could beat you in a courtroom, and now he got you in your most vulnerable state to declare that you actually felt something other than hatred for him. And maybe that’s all he wanted. You’re not sure why you expected anything differently.

You throw the blankets off of you and find your clothes neatly folded on his desk, and his courteousness manages to upset you even more. You put your clothes on and try to collect yourself, taking a few deep breaths as you walk out of his bedroom and out towards his kitchen. You scan the room for your phone, which you swear you left on the dining room table, only to finally see it on top of a note on the kitchen counter written in messy cursive.

“Went out for cigarettes and coffee.

Bringing back croissants and a capuc- cappuccino.

Will be back in ten.

Go back to bed.

V”

-

taglist: @ghostlytide

graphic credits: @glasvera

[ssa-atlas-alvez]

Hello, hope you are having a good day/night

I was wondering if I could request a BAU Team/maybe a little Spencer x Male x assassin

Who now works for the BAU, they are really good at stealth and undercover as if it's breathing air, they want a semblance of normalcy using the skills they were taught for good, but they can't hide, they can't run forever their past will haunt them come for them when they least expect it. (Note: reader has scars/ reader has a crush on Spencer but is afraid of how he would react if Spencer knew the real them) Prompt: to hell and back

This request is over a year old surely, im so sorry!

This a rare one folks, it's over 1k words lol. I hope you like it! I really enjoyed writing it!

Warnings: blood, injuries, scars, stabbing, reader stabs someone, use of the word paranoid/paranoia, a few curse words, reader doesn't even get their dinner :(

They only ever saw you with long sleeves. They knew a rough outline of your previous life, no details. You signed a contract to keep the details of your previous life quiet. Only Strauss knew. You had worked as an assassin for the government for five long years, training rigorously before that for two. When leaving that life, you were given a new identity, (Y/N) (L/N). 

It had taken it’s toll, sometimes your knees creaked, your wrist seized up, sometimes old wounds hurt. But ultimately, when needed, you moved silently. You knew that you wouldn’t be able to hide forever, that eventually your past would catch up to you. And so, you were hesitant to try to get close with your team. You liked them (perhaps liked one member a little too much), and you knew they liked you. But you knew first hand that traitors could come from within.

You weren’t sure when, exactly, you developed a ‘crush’ (which was a word you refused to admit outloud) on Spencer. But soon enough the sight of him was enough for butterflies to swarm your stomach and your breath to hitch. You had never regretted your previous decision to take your original line of work, until those butterflies appeared. You knew it would never happen. That you and him could never be a thing. Because he was pure, and you were… tainted. You had done unimaginable things that would make any sane person run in the opposite direction. 

Not only would he run for hills if he found out what you had done, but then there were the scars. You had been injured more than once during your line of duty. They weren’t exactly something you were fond of. So, you wore long sleeves, trousers. Never short sleeves, never shorts. Not even outside of work when you were out and about. The only time you ever did was when you were at home.

It is possible to say that, over the years at the BAU, the paranoia lessened. You were no longer convinced that every unfamiliar agent was someone from your past looking for revenge. That was your biggest mistake. 

You had seen a new face around the bullpen, you had been with the BAU three years now, without incident. And you knew that new recruits had been hired recently. So, you thought nothing of it.

A few weeks went by without incident, just proving that everything was fine. You were just being paranoid. 

Until one night, you realised it wasn’t paranoia. You were walking back from the chinese takeout around the corner from your apartment when you were pulled back and down an alleyway. He managed to stab you before you got hold of the knife, twisting his grip and stabbing him. You glared at him, twisting the knife before removing it. You repeated the motion once more before throwing the knife into the dumpster just to your right and shoving the ‘agent’ to the ground. 

Food forgotten, you took a breath. You couldn’t go back to your apartment, it was clear they knew where you lived, they had been following you for some time. You ground your teeth, increasing the pressure you placed on your stab wound. Spencer. He lived close by. And with the thought, you set off. 

It took you about ten minutes of staggering in the rain and scared looks for strangers before you reached his block. You stumbled up the stairs, pausing when you reached Spencer’s door and knocked loudly. 

Please be in, please be in. 

The door swung open.

“What the fuck?” Spencer asked, staring at you wide eyed.

You clutched your hand against your stomach tighter, “I didn’t have anywhere else to go.” And with that, collapsed. 

You came to a few minutes later, now sprawled out on Spencer’s couch. “You need to go to the hospital.” Spencer said, pressing a handful of gauze against your wound. 

You shake your head, forcing yourself to sit up against your elbows. “No.” You choked out, wincing again. 

“(Y/N), you’ve been stabbed-”

“I’m fine.” You muttered, “No hospitals.” 

He watched you for a few seconds. “I’m calling Hotch.” He said, dialling before you could argue. 

You groaned, forcing yourself to sit up properly. “Spence-” You’re not quite sure when you started calling him Spence. It just came naturally after a while.

The entirety of the team was there within ten minutes. When Spencer opened the door, they immediately sensed something was wrong. 

“(Y/N)’s been stabbed.” He rushes the words out and immediately heads back to the couch. Only to find you forcing yourself upright.

You needed to leave. They were going to find out, everything was going to be revealed. Not only would that break the contract you signed for Strauss, but it would put them in danger. It would put Spencer in danger. 

“You need to lay back down.” Hotch said as Spencer helped (forced) you back down.

“I’m fine.” You grumbled. 

“We need to cut the shirt away, we need to make sure there’s no other injuries and it’s soaked through.” Rossi chimed, handing a pair of scissors to Spencer. 

“No, Spencer-”

Morgan gently pushed you back down. “Will you just let us help you?” 

You sighed, feeling the cold air bite at your skin as your shirt was cut away. The team collectively gasped at your scars, the red of your blood only emphasising the white of the scars that covered your body. 

You distantly heard Prentiss on the phone with 911. This wasn’t exactly going to plan. You turned to look at Hotch, “You need to tell Strauss.” You said firmly. “Strauss needs to know- ow.” You gave a soft hiss as Morgan took over holding the gauze to the wound.

“I need- I need a second.” Spencer mumbled, standing up and making his way to the bathroom. Presumably to wash his hands. At least, that’s what you would do. Ah shit, there was going to be blood everywhere.

“Did I get blood on the couch?” You asked, craning your neck and attempting to twist your body to check.

“Can you just sit still?” Morgan huffed. 

JJ watches Spencer leave with a concerned gaze before following him into the bathroom. “Spence, you need to breathe. He’s going to be okay.” JJ said softly, giving him a small smile. Spencer nodded, taking a deep breath. 

“You’re right.” Spencer said, raking a hand over his face. “At the very least he’s stubborn.”

“Exactly.” She said, “He’s going to be okay.”

“He’s covered in scars, JJ.” Spencer whispered quietly. “What happened to him?”

“I don’t know.” She said, “Let’s worry about that later, okay? Let’s focus on helping him now. Everything else can wait.”

“I like him.”

“I know Spence.”

“I really like him.”

"I know you do." JJ smiled, squeezing his arm slightly. "Come on, let's go check on him - make sure Morgan's not trying to kill him."

Spencer gave a quiet laugh, following JJ back to the lounge.

"Will you just sit still?" Morgan huffed.

"You're so bossy." You muttered under your breath, blinking slowly.

"You're literally bleeding, shut up and accept the help." Morgan resorted. You huffed in response, but stopped trying to get up, once again.

"Paramedics are one minute out." Prentiss updated after thanking the dispatcher.

You blinked, the adrenaline slowly wearing off, accompanied by the familiar blood-loss tiredness. You shifted your eyes, focusing on Spencer as the world around you blurred before going dark.

[thebluester2020]

[SDV] "Sins of the Guilty"

Summary: SDV Bachelors lusting over the nun that's recently come to visit Pelican Town Warning(s): Not proofread, Sacrilege of nuns, Sub!Sebastion [Reader is kinda a dom in his part], Sebastion doesn't have active sex with the reader, it's only imagined, I kinda favored Sebastion's part ngl, Dom!Shane [The usual lol], This is the filthiest thing I've ever written ngl, Elliot is the king of making readers squirt fight me on that, Elliot is a simp low-key, Bachelors loosely follow the plot of the verses, Unprotected sex [Wrap it before you tap it folks], Pure filth, Porn with plot. Word count: 8,285 wordsSide note(s): Inspired by the fact that- I like nuns and priests man. Going to religious schools all your childhood will do that 💀. Also, sorry for not including all the bachelors. I mostly wanted to focus on those who I think would struggle the most with being presented with a pretty nun in front of them cause it's more fun that way pfft.

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

Shane - "Hopeless Sinner" 1 Peter 5:8 - Be sober-minded; be watchful. Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour.

♡ - Never in his life had Shane been a religious man.

Too much had happened in his life for him to even consider the possibility of a god, and even if there was such a thing? There was no way that they'd look down favorably upon them, especially with all the sins that weighed down his soul.

And he had a lot.

He was a drunk, he could hardly keep his eyes open half of the time. It was common for him to stink, absolutely reek of alcohol and past missed showers and he far too commonly let his alcoholism get him into frequent situations that he would only come to regret the next day. And to add to that list of sins? He wasn't exactly a people person.

He was rude and curt, saw people as an annoyance and treated them like such. He wasn't open to hearing people be kind to him much less try to suggest ways to change himself. The only time he felt semblances of happiness was when he was with his niece and even then? Those times were fleeting and brief, all because of his aforementioned addictions to the bottle.

And...despite all of that, all those troubles...he wasn't intent on changing.

In his eyes? He was a lost cause, too far gone and there was no point in expending energy on something that was damaged. And he only doubled down on that ideology when rumors began to circulate that a nun was going to visit the town for a little while. He even made it a mission to avoid any places where you could've possibly been at!

The last thing Shane needed was some old woman lecturing on the goodness of Yoba and the sins that came with drinking. How that "he wasn't too far gone" and that he could be "saved", all if he just believed and dedicated himself enough.

At least...until he saw you in person one day outside Pierre's shop on his way to get some cans of beer.

. . .

"You must be Shane, I'm Sister Y/N. It's a pleasure to meet you!"

It was like the entire world paused for the briefest of moments.

Just enough for him to truly take in your features the moment he saw you, right in front of Pierre's shop no doubt.

Your smile alone could have chased away the darkest of storms and replace it with a sun that shined as much as your eyes did. They were as wide and big as a dog looking up at its owner, he thought. As if you were expecting some type of praise or reward for greeting him with so much enthusiasm. You were slender-figured but graced with long legs, your skin appeared smooth and your lips were pink and full. Yet as Shane looked back down, he was shocked that you weren't wearing a long black dress like he had thought nuns wore but...shorts-

"Shane? Are you alright?"

"Huh? Y-Yeah...I'm fine." He cleared his throat. "How in the hell do you know my name anyway?" He continued, surprised when you didn't flinch at his rude tone.

"The Church made sure to brief me on people's faces and names before I came to visit!" Of course they did…though, he didn’t know whether or not to complain at this fact or to allow himself to silently be happy in a way. After all, it wasn’t everyday that someone cute knew his name off the bat, much less greeted him with a smile that didn’t have badly hidden disdain or disgust behind it.

“Anyway…” You cleared your throat. “You should come to service this Sunday! It’ll be my first one in the valley and I’d love to have everyone there, I-if possible of course.”

He clicked his tongue.

At the very most? He’d think about it.

“Maybe,” Then, he walked past you.

. . .

After the two of you first met, Shane tried avoiding you the rest of the week until Sunday passed him by.

But though be was successfully avoiding you physically, mentally was a whole other issue as no matter what he did? No matter how much alcohol he drank, you’d always find a way to squeeze your way into his thoughts. When he cringed at his own smell at times, suddenly he’d would be hit with a wave of grace as he remembered the smell of your light perfume. It was even beginning to infect his dreams.

Dreams that…were far more pleasant as of late.

In his dreams, you’d sit with him and talk out in some meadow somewhere. Perhaps you’d go on and on about the book of Yoba all the while you steadily inched closer and closer to him before you’d place a hand on his arm. Your chest touching him as your sweet words grew more sensual, forgoing the talk of holiness to instead invite Shane to touch you through your clothes.

But before getting to the good part?

He’d always wake up, left with an aching hard-on and his alarm screaming at him to get ready for work.

That was the first and possibly the only time that Shane began to believe that there may have been such a thing as "The Devil". After all, why else would he suddenly have these thoughts of someone who just arrived in town a few days ago? Especially someone so out of his league?! Also, the two of you only met once and you probably didn't even remember his name!

But after the fourth time of waking up, his own brain once again blue-balling him?

He knew he had to see you in person.

Even if it was just to hear your voice again.

. . .

So, the next day, he went to the shrine of Yoba where he knew you'd be.

And the second he knocked on the door, you responded with a gentle "Come in" before he stepped inside. And...he couldn't help but feel like a black sheep amongst all the holy symbols and the gentle sound of a religious choir playing from a phone, suddenly, the paranoia of Yoba knowing about Shane's unholy imagination of you began to glare up. He felt as if he was going to burst into flames as punishment for daring to offend a sacred place with his presence!

Once he had turned a corner and saw you sitting on a pew, facing the statue of Yoba however...all of a sudden, he was calm and he remembered why he was there.

He simply wanted to confess his sins and have someone hear him out.

"Shane?" You said as you turned around, a smile immediately jumping onto your features. "I thought that was you! It's easy to recognize grumpy voices in this town."

He rolled his eyes.

"Can I help you with anything? What's going on?"

When he opened his mouth, he realize that he didn't have a single clue about how to admit that he wanted to confess his sins. Especially when those sins revolved around you (not that he'd ever dare to say that part out loud). "I uh...want to confess my sins."

Your smile grew. "Oh? Please, sit." You scooted over on your pew before tapping the space next to you.

Obediently, he sat down but a considerable distance away from you. His hands started to sweat and shake, how was he supposed to confess that you were the source of his sins?! How was he going to tell the pure nun of the valley that he was struggling not to masturbate to you defiling yourself on his unworthy cock? The imagination of your moans combined with the image of you begging him to fuck you against the shrine of Yoba plagued his mind. And what's worse?

He didn't feel an ounce of guilt for it really...he just wanted to be around you. Be it fuel for the mind or something more, he just didn't know.

"...Something tells me that you didn't come to confess." You spoke breaking the silence and snapping him from his thoughts.

His heart dropped to his stomach. Did he do something to give himself away?

"How do you-"

"I've been doing this for a while, you tend to pick up clues." You chuckled. "So tell me, what's really going on? I'm a good listener."

The moment you turned around and looked at him, his breath hitched in his throat as his dream from the night prior suddenly flashed in the forefront of his mind. Your pretty pink lips soaked and glistening from your spit whilst you panted heavily like a bitch in heat, practically for him to do something to you, anything to you. Already, he started to feel his cock twitch inside his boxers, causing Shane to quickly clear his throat and look in front of him.

He tried to think about anything else to keep himself from getting hard in front of you.

"...I've been having weird dreams." He finally admitted. "Dreams that aren't...good."

You hummed to yourself for a moment before you responded. "Like..."I may do something awful" type of bad or another type?"

"Lustful." He muttered.

Like the flip of a dime, it felt like the atmosphere in the room changed.

"You've been lusting after someone?"

He nodded his head.

"Who?"

"Does it matter?" He said snappily, eliciting a chuckle from you.

"Don't be so snappy, I like a bit of gossip as much as the next person..." You scooted closer. "Though, if you've been struggling with these thoughts then...the correct thing for me to say as a nun is to suggest you to stop. To be tempted by the flesh is a sin, your thoughts should never be focused on such things."

Finally, Shane forced himself to look at you, fully expecting you to look at him with some type of reprimanding disgust in your eyes but...he was shocked when he found nothing of the sort. You looked at him like a tiger would eye a piece of prey. "But...?" Shane said.

"But, I as an individual say that you should pursue this person. Who knows, she may like you."

Now that made him snort, there was no way that you would like a drunk like him. He was certain of that. "I'm the town drunk, why would she— you like me?" He decided to be upfront, to which you met his words with shock for a moment before you offered him a simple smile in return.

"Nuns have needs too, and who said this had to be a permanent thing? I'll only be in town for a few more weeks, all your sins will simply...wash away, stay between us, once I leave."

It felt like his dream was becoming truer by the second. Only...you were naughtier than what he originally assumed based on your appearance, but it added to the charm, and with each sugar-coated word that fell from your pretty lips, the further his mind slipped into depravity and what he wanted to do with you as he felt his cock chub up against his thigh. After all, when was the last time he'd gotten his rocks off? His right hand and his brain could only stave off the longing for a real tight cunt for so long!

And as he watched you start to lift your dress and slip your panties down your legs.

He immediately took the plunge.

. . .

"F-Fuck!" You cried out as your legs were spread, Shane on his knees as his lapped at your cunt like a man-starved.

And he might as well have been.

He felt as if he had been in a desert for months and had finally spotted an oasis, your slick upon his tongue was sweet and dripped from your pussy like a nonstop faucet, something that he wasn't going to dare let go to waste as he alternated between tongue-fucking your sex with his tongue and moving onto sucking your clit whilst his calloused fingers plunged in and out of your weeping hole.

And you couldn't get enough of it.

"Sooooo d-deeep...." You whined as your eyes started to roll into the back of your head.

Shane's resolve would've snapped if he hadn't been so focused on both eating yu out and prepping you to take his leaking cock, the sound of you, a nun sounding so fucked out and horny...practically crying out for his tongue and fingers made him rut into the air to try and alleviate the tight feeling within' his pants.

"S-Shane...I'm- I'm cumming-" Your high-pitched whine suddenly died on your lips when Shane stopped pistoning his fingers in and out of you as he stood and shredded his clothes.

"No you aren't lil' slut, you'll be doing that on my dick." He grumbled, his hands practically shaking from how eager he was to get inside of you before he finally freed his dick from its confines and lined himself up to your entrance, his hand coming up to press against the middle of your leg and push it till it nearly touched your chest.

Your mouth opened in a wide O at the size of him, causing the man to chuckle.

"Never had something this big in your pussy?"

You unconsciously shook your head but, your pussy nonetheless twitched in eagerness for the man's cock. Despite Shane's eagerness though, he made sure to be as gentle as he could be with you as he gently pressed his mushroom tip against your hole, the feeling sending a rush of electricity over your skin at the feeling of a cock touching your pussy.

It was strange and...it felt hot. Hotter than what you expected it to be.

Shane gripped his cock at the base before beginning to press his tip against your hole, steadily inserting it into your hole before thrusting forward a little as he steadily filled you. The man groaned at the feeling of your wet walls clenching onto him, almost as if you didn't want to let him go despite you possibly being the first man you've ever been with. "L-Loosen up..." He whispered, already feeling a knot begin to form and tighten in his stomach.

It seemed he hadn't been laid longer than what he originally thought. It took ever ounce of Shane's strength and will not to fuck you like a toy, to be as gentle as he could be until he was certain you were ready to be fucked into the pew like you were begging him to when he first started to eat you out.

Then again, you weren't going to last long either as you had just recently had your orgasm denied.

"Y-You're too big..." You whispered, trying to relax your cunt like instructed to but it hardly seemed to do anything at all. You moaned when you felt Shane's cock twitch at your words, a cocky smirk crawling onto his stubbled features as he leaned closer to you. "I'm big huh?"

You nodded your head breathlessly, a moan tearing from your throat when Shane finally bottomed out inside of you, his hips pressing against your ass whilst he tightened his grip on your leg to keep you from trying to escape the stretch his dick gave you.

"J-Just fuck me..." You hissed, shooting a glare to try and chase your denied orgasm. And the man gladly did as you wished, slowly pulling himself out of you before suddenly slamming back into you, almost knocking the air from your very lungs before he immediately went into a harsh and brutal pace. Shane almost had a mind to tease how you looked, your lips flushed and lips wet from your shared salvia from your earlier kissing session.

Your moans were loud and unbridled, to the point where even he was worrying about whether or not your slutty moans would attract unneeded attention to the shrine!

But as his balls slapped against your ass, the sensation in combination with your cute moans only served to make his balls tighten in anticipation of his impending orgasm. "Oh Yob, r-right there!" You yelped out when Shane suddenly positioned himself to fuck into you deeper, his cock slamming into the deepest part of you with each thrust. Shane then moved his hand down from its position on your leg to your hips, using the leverage to pull you onto his cock as he threw his head back to let out a drawn-out groan.

"Fuuuuccckkkk..." He moaned, his mouth hanging open before he lazily looked back down at you, smiling at your fucked out expression as he spotted drool beginning to dribble out from the corner of your lips.

At that moment, his thumb reached to wipe the drool from the corner of your lips before plucking the digit into his mouth with a smirk at your taste. "Can't believe how lucky I am...Yoba must be real," Shane snickered. "I get to fuck one of his cute lil' slutty nuns...especially one that doesn't know what to do with herself when presented with a real dick in her cunt." He continued as the need to fill you up grew with each thrust.

You nodded stupidly, Shane had an urge to kiss you but...your moans sounded too good for him to risk messing up his position and ruining your pleasure that was causing you to cry out so abashedly.

"C-Cummin-" Your climax hit you like a freight train as your body suddenly went rigid. Your cunt spasmed and clenched impossibly tighter around Shane's cock like a vice grip, nearly making him stutter in his movements as you came around his cock. "Y-Yoba-" He hissed, sucking in his bottom lip as he leaned forward a little at the sheer pleasure your spasming cunt brought him.

Shane only managed a few more thrusts before he spilled into you, his stomach clenching and his body stilling as if it were putting all its remaining energy into filling you up.

A breath he didn't even know he was holding released when he finished and looked back at you. Your gaze was unfocused as your cheeks were flushed red and spit trailed down the corners of your lips.

"Oi, you with me?" Shane said as he pinched your cheeks together with his hand, gently shaking you to try and snap you out of your daze.

You could only respond with a soft moan before you looked at him but not at him. He chuckled, he would accept it for now. He just needed to get you dressed, after all...he definitely wanted to discuss if his confessions with you could be a regular thing, at least...until you left of course.

Elliot - "Forbidden Desires" Proverbs 6:25 - Do not desire her beauty in your heart, and do not let her capture you with her eyelashes;

♡ - When Elliot and you first met. It was on the beach of all things.

Out on the wooden pier that overlooked the ocean. Frequently, the writer would visit here to collect his thoughts for his writing and try to find inspiration from the gentle waves that crashed lightly against the pier and beach alike. Yet it was when he turned his head to the side briefly, the world suddenly seemed to stop on its axis.

He thought you were gorgeous.

Baked in the backdrop light from the sun, he nearly thought you had a halo on your head. Glowing with your holiness that made all the features on your face that much softer, like the way your hooded eyes looked out across the water almost longingly as if you were beckoning for a wave to come and carry you somewhere else. How pieces of your hair escaped your veil and blew with the sea breeze along with your dress.

The longer he admired you quietly, the more he thought you were an ethereal spirit, completely unaware of how you were tempting him despite your outfit telling him that you were the sister that the town had been expecting for about a week now. It was your job to be a role model as to how not to sin.

Yet...he wanted to do the opposite- "Are you going to keep looking at me, or will you say hello?" Your voice snapped Elliot from his thoughts before he finally noticed you were looking at him with a curious but soft gaze, a smile gracing your features when you saw how his cheeks began to tint red.

"E-Excuse me." He said as he stood up and dusted himself off. "I was just in shock, I wasn't expecting the long-awaited nun to be at the beach."

As the two of you stood side by side, he noticed how you were shorter than himself. "Oh," You said. "Did I interrupt your alone time?" You smiled.

Elliot smiled and shook his head. "Oh no, I don't think you could ever do that." He responded, your mouth hanging open a little as a blush of your own started to coat your cheeks. It was then that Elliot quickly cleared his throat and tried to find a way to apologize. It seemed like he wasn't himself, his thoughts kept coming out before he could fully think about whether he could say them or not!

"Sorry, I'm not trying to make you uncomfortable."

You then turned your body fully to face him. "Oh, you're not doing that. I find your forwardness charming." You were dangerous for Elliot's heart, the way you looked up at him made his mouth dry while equally making him feel as if he were floating amongst the clouds. Up until you caught his attention again with a laugh. "What's your name?"

"Elliot," He answered immediately.

"Y/N." You responded. "It'll be hard for me to come to the beach with my duties and all...you should try visiting the shrine in the Pierre's shop. I'll be there most of the time."

"How long will you be staying in town?"

"Two weeks." He struggled not to immediately frown at that answer, all while he simultaneously struggled to not throw a curse at Yoba for making him feel this strongly about one of his devoted followers. Elliot could be frank with himself, he knew that you would be in his every waking thought from this point onward. All he'd think about is how to get closer to you, get to know you and so much more!

"I hope you'll enjoy your two weeks here then sister." He finally said.

"Oh, I'm certain I will." Then you turned to walk away, your faint perfume tickling Elliot's nose as he was left along with his thoughts, his thoughts settling on the newfound fact that you were his muse.

All of a sudden, his inspiration to write came to him like rushing waves during a typhoon. Stories of how a man fell into a forbidden relationship with a woman, or perhaps a shorter tale of how a man falls in love with a spirit, someone he longed for but knew he couldn't ultimately have. Yet, as all the thoughts flew through his mind. One thing was for certain, you left him with a burning ache in his pants.

. . .

Later that night, he admittedly felt slightly guilty for palming himself over his pants at the thought of you. The pretty nun with the soft voice and heavenly features, although Elliot tried not to think too hard about your words from earlier, to not misunderstand how you phrased your words or how you looked at him as a signal for something more...the image in his head was far too addicting to let go so easily.

The thought of you bouncing on his cock while he sucked at your breasts, planting kisses all over your body as you moaned for more...was it wrong of him to have those thoughts? Then again, surely you knew how you sounded when you spoke to him on the beach! You sounded like you were interested in him! That you may have wanted to pursue something more with—

"Ah...look at me," Elliot murmured to himself, running his fingers through his hair as he scoffed at how ridiculous his thoughts were.

You were a nun.

You were just being friendly!

What he was doing was wrong. To think about a holy sister was potentially one of the greatest sins (at least, to what he knew about the book of Yoba).

Perhaps he needed Yoba more than he realized.

. . .

And that’s what prompted him to visit Pierre’s shop three days later, specifically where he knew you’d be, the Shrine of Yoba.

Elliot’s plans were simple, to confess his sins, receive your judgement and advice, then leave. Of course though, he’s leave out the part where his thoughts revolved around you despite the fact the both of you hadn’t known each other for that long. But once he was standing right in front of the door that would lead into the shrine…he felt like his entire body had frozen in place.

Were you actually a nun or secretly a demon? He thought.

No person should ever have power over another like this. But the moment Elliot’s nerves loosened up a little, he quickly knocked a few times on the door before a gentle “Come in” could be heard from inside, causing him to walk in before he immediately saw you getting up from your kneeling position at the shrine.

You smoothened out your clothes and then looked at Elliot with the same angelic look you gave him the first time you met him. “Elliot?” You said. “You came.”

He nodded his head, keeping his head down just long enough in an attempt to ease his blushing. “I figured I was overdue for confessing my sins.”

“Don’t be silly,” You chuckled. “We all come and confess our sins when we’re ready, there’s no pressure.”

It was easy for you to say, he thought.

You weren’t the one who was losing sleep over imagining the naked form of the person you just met. And as Elliot walked to sit on one of the pews, the more he couldn’t help but think that this may have been a bad idea. Although your attire was similar to what you wore on the beach, he didn’t know if his eyes were tricking him or not but…your clothing appeared…tighter.

Around your chest to be more precise and it was driving him nuts.

He silently begged Yoba that you wouldn’t come close enough to where you’d be able to spot his steadily growing hard-on. And thankfully, you kept your distance via sitting on the pew just in front of him with your back turned.

“Now, you may confess when you’re ready to begin.” You murmured a quick prayer before clearing your throat as a sign you were attentive and listening.

Elliot sighed. "Sister, I've been...well- I've had unholy thoughts as of late. Thought that revolve around a woman that I'm infatuated with."

When you didn't say anything in response, he continued.

"She's the most beautiful woman I've ever been blessed to see. But it would be wrong for me to pursue a relationship with her."

That was when you spoke. "May I ask why?"

Elliot's throat bobbed up and down at the question. "She's a nun."

The silence that followed was so loud that it nearly rang in his ears. Yet, as you turned around to face him, his mouth immediately fell open to apologize until a certain glint flashed in your ears as you looked at him with a smile, a finger tugging at the collar of your uniform.

"And...what do you want to do with this nun?"

"I want to kiss her." At his confession, it was like a string had broken before you and Elliot's lips crashed together. In the writer's mind, it was as if your lips were meant to be with his own, the taste of your mint-flavored lipstick addicting to his tastebuds as he felt around in your mouth. Your breathing became heavier, pressing yourself as close to Elliot as you possibly could despite the pew that still separated the two of you. "What else do you want to do to me?" You panted when you both separated, your breaths labored and heavy as a single string of spit still connected you two.

Elliot silently eyed the rest of your body.

"May I show you, sister?"

. . .

Had you known the man you met a few days ago was capable of this. You would've fucked him right then and there out on that wooden pier.

The position Elliot currently had you in was making you see stars and galaxies behind your eyes, your legs spread out on his lips as he held you tight against his form, almost as if he were afraid you'd disappear right before his eyes whilst he fucked up into you like a man on a mission. Each thrust making his cock assault your sweet spot deep inside you, you felt as if your organs were molding and reshaping themselves just to better fit Elliot's cock.

"Y-Yoba's name..." He whispered hotly against your neck, pressing wet open-mouthed kisses against the side of your neck and all the way down to your exposed collarbones from him hastily pulling down the front of your dress. "Y-You're so tight-" Elliot grit his teeth together as he groaned against your skin.

However, each time he fucked up into you, the sound of your sexes meeting reverberated throughout the small area of the shrine as your slick poured down from your pussy to pool and coat the front of Elliot's thighs, you were starting to...feel something.

A certain coil beginning to tighten tighter and tighter by the second in your stomach.

Compared to the orgasms you've given yourself in the past, privately when you were in your room or in an area you were certain was vacant of other people. This one was more intense and threatened to wash over you with such a force that you worried you'd pass out from the intensity! But, it was hard to voice such a worry when you were being fucked to the point that you couldn't utter a single syllable, to where you nearly had a mind to forgo this life and simply be the plaything of Elliot for the rest of your days.

"E-Elliot...!" You keened as you wrapped your arms tighter around his neck, Elliot's thrusts somehow growing even more ruthless as he tucked his face into the valley between your breasts.

"Shit..." You managed to hear him breathe out.

Your mouth steadily started to form a large O shape as the coil inside your tummy tightened more and more until it finally burst.

Suddenly Elliot stilled his movements to raise your dress higher to witness the wetness that flowed from your pussy like a fountain spewing water, his mouth dropping in shock whilst the lust inside his eyes grew at the arousing sight of your orgasm spewing from your cunt and splattering onto his thighs.

He was only snapped from his trance when he heard your fucked-out moan and your hand tap his shoulder.

"Truly, you are the woman of my dreams," Elliot said with an equally fucked-out voice as if he were the one who just came. "Do that again." Your eyes snapped open as you tried to quickly voice your protest but not before your words were shooed from your lips when the writer fucked up into you again, resuming his previous pace before he gently leaned you back, his hand resting on the small of your back to keep you steady whilst his other went to lift your leg higher so that he had a better view of your cunt.

The squelching noises were like a symphony to his ears.

But all he could think about was you squirting again.

The pew you both sat and fucked on was already dirty...defiled.

It didn't matter to defile it some more.

"Please, squirt on my cock again," Elliot begged. "Will this help my dear? Don't hold back, please." Without a single word of warning, the hand that held your leg up dived down to rub quick circles on your clit with his index and middle finger.

"F-Fuck! Elliot...baby, w-wait- you're going to-" Your entire body shook and convulsed from overstimulation as you struggled to keep your head and thoughts straight, moans falling from your lips shamelessly as you could hear Elliot's raspy moans and throaty groans, the sexy noises only serving to make you clench around the writer's experienced fingers.

Elliot took your pussy getting tight as a sign you were close once again, causing him to speed up both his thrusts and his fingers as they rubbed side to side without abandon on your clit. You tried to cry out for him to slow down, to give you a short break but your moans fell on deaf ears as Elliot only silenced you via fucking you harder to the point your moans took the place of the words you wanted to say as he abused your cunt. "Ahhh...." You moaned in pleasure as you felt something begin to well up inside you again.

"E-Elliot- f-fuck...." You couldn't do anything else but whine and beg, his name slipping from your lips repeatedly as his fingers on your clit sped up whilst he rose you forward a little to plant kisses along your breasts.

"Don't be embarrassed my dear," He whispered against your skin. "Just cum, I got you...please." At the sounds of his begging, that earlier feeling of a coil beginning to tighten started to nearly grow unbearable inside you, your eyes barely staying open as you allowed your body to take all the pleasure your eager lover was bestowing onto you.

"Oh, Yoba...fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck-" Your body once again grew rigid as Elliot's eyes darted to where the two of you were connected, his eyes widening as your pussy clenched onto him tighter than before as a clear liquid squirted out from you and around his dick. Upon seeing that sight, he wasn't too far behind from his climax, managing a few more hard thrusts before his head dropped forward a little as he moaned.

The two of you sat in silence for a few minutes, trying to catch your breath until it was you who broke the silence as you steadily rose your head and slid your hands to rest on Elliot's shoulders with a soft moan and a dopey smile. "You know..." Your voice was hoarse as your hand moved to catch Elliot's chin under your hand before you tilted his head back to make you look at him.

You pressed a chaste kiss to his lips, a sweet lovesick moan leaving the writer's lips before a smile slowly came onto his lips. "We should do this again."

"How..." Elliot took a moment to further catch his breath. "How long will you be in town?"

"Couple of months, we can discuss about this being a regular thing as well as...you possibly taking me out on a date next?"

He couldn't think of anything better.

Sebastion - "Hungry Recluse" Genesis 2:18 - Then the Lord God said, “It is not good that the man should be alone; I will make him a helper fit for him.”

♡ - He had heard about a nun coming to the valley when his mother brought it up at dinner a few weekends ago. And back then? He didn't have a mind to care really.

He was a recluse.

He had nothing against religion but he preferred to stay away from crowds. If a nun was to come to the valley then he was more than certain you would bring a crowd, preaching about Yoba and the likes and he respectfully wanted no part of that.

So, imagine his shock one night when he was outside his home smoking. Only to spot a nun doing the same.

"A nun, smoking?" He nearly choked on his own cigarette. His words catching your attention before you cursed under your breath before you dropped your cigarette and quickly stomped on it with the heel of your shoe.

"Goddamn it..."

He scoffed. "And you curse too?"

You rolled your eyes. "If you're going to snitch to someone, do it now." As Sebastion stared, thinking about how much he wasn't going to snitch to anyone (after all, he believed it wasn't his place nor did he feel like anyone would believe him should he have wanted to do it). He couldn't help but think about how...well, how pretty you looked.

You sported a more roguish look to your uniform compared to what he was originally thinking you'd look like. Clean outfit with a bright smile, maybe a hand carrying a bible or the cross of Yoba perhaps. Instead? One side of your dress was bunched up, exposing quite a considerable amount of thigh as well as the black stocking you wore underneath, and the similarly colored boots that would've typically been hidden underneath.

Your make-up was gothic and you had a septum piercing along with a couple more piercings on the outer edge of your right ear.

And if he was seeing things right...was that black nail polish on your fingers- "Are you going to keep staring?" You said bitingly.

"Sorry," He apologized, quickly looking somewhere else. "I just didn't expect the nun to be-"

"A sinner?" You interrupted with a heavy sigh.

"Different." He finished his sentence.

You clicked your tongue. "Yeah well...that's what you get when you're an unwilling member of the church." You spilled.

Now he was really curious about you. This entire time, he had expected a goody two-shoes sister who would rave on and on about Yoba anytime that they could! Or maybe even some old hag as old as Evelyn was, nagging and constantly haggling people about converting and praying more to Yoba.

But instead? The town received neither.

Only you.

And he was absolutely enthralled by you.

So much so that he found himself unconsciously walking up to you before he cleared his throat. "Do...you want to talk about it?"

"I'm not looking for pity if that's what you're-"

"I'm not trying to pity you." He interrupted. "You just seem to be in need of a confessional as much as anyone else." He shrugged, his words sparking a chuckle that sounded like a melody in his ears.

. . .

And that was the beginning of you and Sebastion's relationship.

One where you two would meet under the guise of night every other day after you had finished your "performance" during the day of playing the innocent nun who wanted to spread the word of Yoba. Something that Sebastion quickly learned was nothing but complete bullshit. The two of you would rant about your lives and how much you two wished you could change things.

Whether it was from Sebastion's dreams of moving away from Pelican Town and into the city, to you ironically praying to Yoba that he'd give you an outing from the church.

The one day you'd be free.

"...Why are you stuck in the church?" Sebastion had asked one day, lighting your cigarette before his own.

You blew a puff of smoke before sighing. "Mommy and daddy had unresolved debts and issues." You said. "To pay 'em off, they got rid of me." You continued.

"Now I wear this damn get-up and play "Good follower of Yoba"." You mumbled a few curses under your breath afterward, ones that made Sebastion snicker under his breath as he considered your situation. Although obviously different, the similarities in your stories were eerily similar. The two of you longed for another life, felt as if you didn't belong in the current one you both lived, and, as much as you both could, you tried to actively change that.

But...where Sebastion could easily pack some things, get on his bike, and head for the city.

You didn't have that luxury.

"Why don't you move here?"

"Unresolved debts remember?"

"I know but...there's a lot of abandoned places here in the valley. We even have an abandoned farm not too far from here. You could live there."

"My cage would be no different then, just a new window to look out of."

A small smile crept onto your features when you spotted an apologetic frown appear on Sebastion's face. One that made you flush a little as his cheeks appeared puffier and cuter. You appreciated being able to talk to him, more than you'd ever be able to convey but...you weren't looking for sympathy or solutions to escaping that only involved you living a life on the run and in hiding.

In truth? Being asked by the higher-ups to visit this small town, meeting Sebastion?

It was as close to a blessing from Yoba as you'd ever get.

Back home, you were a glorified maid if not eye candy for old men. You'd clean for them, cook for them, bring them drinks...it was such a dull life. You hadn't even been able to go to college. You couldn't even do most math but you could damn well recite random passages from the book of Yoba.

You hadn't nor would ever be able to find love!

All talks of boys and falling in love were strictly forbidden, seen as nothing more than a gateway for potential sinning, something you'd eventually learn was nothing but complete hogwash as there were plenty of times you've seen your fellow sisters open their legs for priests when it pertained to the topic of being able to get away with some things. Here in the valley though? You didn't feel that pressure.

You liked it here.

You liked...well, you liked the people. They were nice.

"You should be happy here Sebastion." You said, breaking the silence.

"You have a good life here, it may not be the one you want it's the one that's the best path for you at the moment."

Sebastion rolled his eyes. "Easy for you to say, you don't live here."

"Maybe, but I'd need a million more fingers in order to count how many situations are worse than this." You sighed. "After all...you never know, one day you may find yourself liking it here. Life is funny like that." At those words, you placed a gentle hand ontop of Sebastion's for only a brief moment before you got up and walked away.

An act that only served to leave Sebastion's heart skipping beats and...strangely upset.

. . .

And he must've sat outside for an extra thirty minutes before he finally went inside.

Dinner tasted bland, and all of a sudden Demetrius' snide remarks and insults didn't even make him turn nor lift his head to briefly glare! All Sebastion could think about was you.

You, you, you, you, you.

He didn't know what sounded weirder or more pathetic.

Him chasing after you like he was in some chick-flick, exclaiming how he wanted to be with you despite only knowing you for going on close to a week now. Or if he said that you were the only person in this entire town who seemed to understand him! The only one who made him truly happy aside from the small yet rare-found joys in his life! He could introduce you to his friends, Sam and Abigail, he thought you'd get alone well with them.

Maybe you could teach Sam to play new songs? He remembered you mentioning how you knew how to play the guitar a little. Or maybe you could simply be another girl added to the group, someone for Abigail to hang out and talk with.

As Sebastion sat on his bed. His mind further diving into his racing thoughts that concerned you, so many situations revolving around the question of 'What if?' that he could barely keep track of them all! He wondered then about what if you'd be another addition to the farming community here. If you would actually take over that abandoned farm.

What would you grow, would you be good at it or would you only prefer animals like Marnie?

Or...maybe you'd be something else?

A writer like that one guy who lived at the beach with Willy.

Or maybe an inspiring somebody like himself or Sam?

Another member to the Adventurer's Guild perhaps?

He considered it all but the one scenario that made his heart strangely ache the most was...if you were with him.

You made him smile the most out of everyone here. Sebastion enjoyed your curt personality that blended well with your shockingly soft tendencies. You were pretty and when your lips weren't covered in dark lipstick, they shined a surprisingly glistening red. Your eyes were the most gorgeous underneath the moonlight ad your figure (if he couldn't guess from the first moment he met you) was something that made his jaw drop every single time.

Suddenly, there was a throb in his pants at the thought of what you'd look like underneath your clothes.

But no, even if you stated you didn't want to be a nun.

He'd give you the respect all the same. He wouldn't dare to do anything inappropriate with your face in mind. It wouldn't be right.

. . .

But oh...did he think it would feel so right.

It wasn't a bad thing to touch himself to the thought of you, was it? You weren't there and so long as you didn't know then technically sin would have ever been committed! At least, that's what he comforted himself with as he furiously jerked himself off underneath his covers, breathless moans leaving his lips as he imagined it was your hand stroking him off rather than his own.

And as he did so, he swore he was more turned on than he ever had been in his entire life.

He imagined you were wearing your dark lipstick as your hand went down to massage his balls, your lipstick leaving smudge trails up and down his cock as you flattened your tongue to trail along the prominent vein that ran on the underside of his cock. Yet as you did so, you kept a firm eye on him as you looked at him through your lashes.

"You must've been so pent up Sebby..." His cock twitched at the nickname. "Waiting for me to do this to you, you must've been thinking about this since the day we've met. Huh?" A whine left escaped him at your words, his vision beginning to blur from both pleasure and growing embarrassment as his cock began to leak more and more pre.

"Not going to answer~?" You purred. "That's okay, you seem to be way more talkative down here than with that mouth of yours."

"P-Please..." He whispered.

Your smirk grew as your hand quickened in its pace, your face leaning in closer to his to the point he could almost imagine your breath gently blowing on his face. "Please fuck me..." He moaned. "R-Ride my cock, j-just do something more with me."

"Such a good boy~"

As you sat up, you licked the tips of your fingers clean from his pre as straddled him to where your pussy hovered over his cock. He twitched at the feeling of your heat, his eyes glued on your dripping pussy before your finger tipped his head to look back up at you. "Keep your eyes on me." You ordered before swiftly pressing a kiss to his lips. A choked-up moan escaped Sebastion's lips when you suddenly sunk yourself onto him. Your hips immediately started a fast pace that made his eyes roll into the back of his head.

Until you suddenly slowed down. "W-Wha...?" He said dizzily, looking back at you. "Why-"

"Eyes on me Sebby~ or what? Is my pussy too good for you to listen to me?" You suddenly slammed your hips down, Sebastion's hand gripping the bedsheets with a loud moan before you resumed your original pace. "You should be following what I say more diligently than this Sebastion" You pouted. "A holy nun is giving you her untouched pussy, the least you could do is look at her~"

"Y-Yes!" He moaned. Tears flowed down the sides of Sebastion's face as he kept his eyes on you, the sounds of his balls slapping against your cunt echoing throughout the room as a familiar knot steadily started to appear in the pit of his stomach. His cock twitching inside your warm pussy as the feeling of your walls nearly drove him to insanity.

Your moans, your face contorting in pleasure as your hands roamed up and down his chest underneath his hoodie. Everything about you made him want to exclaim just how much he had developed a crush on you, something that he wanted to take farther rather than just simply have sex with you. Yet, as the heat in his belly turned white-hot, his moans sounded closer to wails as he begged to cum.

He had to remind himself that this wasn't real.

You weren't even here.

Something that was slapped into him the second he felt his cum pool over the top of the hole he made with his hand rather than feeling it fill you up.

"Y/N..." He moaned as if you'd magically appear before him.

Tomorrow, he would definitely confess his feelings. Religion be damned, he knew that he wanted something with you.

[genderkoolaid]

have u seen the post going around that makes a big deal of how lesbians can and do date gender weird ppl and then adds on a whole addition about how they ABSOLUTELY STILL DONT DATE MEN. and finishes with "lesbians do get with genderweird folks AND still do not get with men. both are true." just say you dont believe multigender people are valid and go

goddddddd these fuckin people

Not only do multigender people exist, but also:

There are trans men who were cis lesbians and transition. Their lesbian partners can stay with them and, while some may identify as bisexual, others will identify as lesbians! Not because they misgender their partners, but because lesbianism has always been a space for transmasculinity & those who love it! Their trans male husbands may even identify as lesbians still, or maybe straight men!

Even transness nonwithstanding... sometimes lesbians fuck men. People will make posts about lesbians thinking a twink is a butch and finding him hot but I'm sorry, sometimes a twink and a dyke will have sex for fun because they want to. Sometimes a woman who's never had a crush on a man in her life will fall for one guy, even a cis guy, because human attraction is crazy like that. None of that means anything for lesbians who never want to date or fuck a cis (or trans) man. It means absolutely nothing for you.

Like. I always think "lesbians can't date or sleep with men? Who are you to tell lesbians what they can and can't do? Lesbians will do whatever the hell they want."

This all on top of the inherent fucking nonsense of "lesbians can date genderweird folks but still don't get with men!!!" like I really need people to grasp the concept that trying to categorize genderweird people into "man" and "not man" is just never not going to be exorsexist. Sorry you can't reduce it down to "butches who are transmasc and maybe use he/him or go by "boyfriend" but they never ever ever feel like a boy or man at all which means they are Good and Acceptable To Fuck" its so ridiculous. lesbian sexuality & romance & community is so much cooler and more beautifully diverse than the fucking spreadsheet ass people could ever imagine.

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

I expanded on this.

The gate to hell was closed, and Vecna was dead. Unfortunately, Max and Eddie were still in a coma. Things were starting to change in Hawkins, and for a lot of people, it was a welcome change. . .for the more conservative, however, it was almost like the end of the world. While Max and Eddie slept, several people packed up and left the town they no longer believed was safe. They simply refused to believe that Eddie wasn't the killer or that he wasn't possessed by Satan.

In their place, freaks like Eddie started moving into their homes. It was metalheads who wanted to support their fellow comrades, and it was nerds who wanted to know that people like them no longer had people coming after him. It was also people like Eddie, people like Robin, and people like Steve who came to support someone who they felt like he was one of their own even though they had no way of knowing. Soon, it became a safe place for metalheads, nerds, and for the queer folk. It became such a safe place for them that Robin, Steve, and Will felt comfortable enough to come out to the party.

The only downside were the conspiracy theorists that followed everyone else and the insane people who believed that they were in love with Eddie. The overwhelming number of people who moved into Hawkins became too much, even if they meant well, even if they wanted to show support for Eddie. They needed more people on the police force, which meant bringing Hopper in back as Chief, something Powell had been grateful for.

"I still can't believe it," Robin rambled as she stacked videotapes. "Who knew that Vecna tearing a hole in the middle of Hawkins would lead it to becoming, like San Franciso?"

"Yeah, did you know the Hideout is basically a gay bar now?" Steve asked.

"What?! No!" Robin shrieked as she dropped a tape and then she narrowed her eyes. "Wait. . .how do you know? . . . Steve Muriel Harrington, did you go and have a one-night stand?"

"Shut up, I should have never told you my middle name. I couldn't sleep, okay?" Steve blushed.

"Okay, so, how much did this guy look like Eddie?" Robin asked.

"Not at all," Steve scoffed. "Okay, a little bit . . . a lot! He looked a lot like Eddie, but he was mean. I know that Eddie could be an asshole, but he was too mean. . . too rude to the bartender who was serving him drinks. It made me feel good about giving him a fake number and a fake name."

"So, how often did you call him Eddie while you were pounding away inside of him?" Robin said.

"You ever think we should consider the whole boundary thing that Nancy says we should have?" Steve asked.

"Okay, so several times then," Robin grinned. "Nance is joking because where is the fun in having boundaries?"

"By the way, there was no . . . um, you know. . .," Steve said, blushing.

"Penetration?" she asked.

"Nope," Steve replied.

"You're hoping to save that for Eddie, aren't you?" Robin asked, grinning and then looked at him softly. "He's going to wake up, you know. So is Max. Being possessed by an evil wizard takes a lot out of people. It has to. They just need to rest."

"I know," he said.

The bell above the door rang, and Vickie burst through, her face shining in excitement. She ran towards Robin and didn't skid to a stop in time, causing the tapes in Robin's arms to spill onto the floor.

"Sorry," Vickie squeaked.

"It's not a problem. I've done worse," Robin said with a wide grin, her eyes as shiny as Vickie's face.

"I got asked out by a woman! Though she wasn't the one that I wanted to ask me out or the one that I wanted to ask out, actually. Though she was hot, and I definitely have a thing for women with pretty blue eyes," Vickie rambled. "Anyway, after I rejected her, but I did it very nicely, I came here because I wanted to ask you out. I understand if you don't want to. I totally would get through it because I'd want you in my life no matter what. Yeah, right, I actually have to ask you out. Will you go out with me?"

They were still kneeling on the floor in the middle of a bunch of video tapes. Robin stared at her for a moment before grinning.

"Yeah, I would love to!" Robin exclaimed.

"Great!" Vickie exclaimed and surged forward to kiss her.

The kiss was quick, and she broke it to help Robin pick up the tapes. Vickie mumbled something about heading to work and kissed Robin again before rushing out the door. Robin gaped at the door before turning to Steve, who's mouth was also opened. They moved towards each other at the same time. They screamed and started jumping at the same time. Steve hugged Robin tightly. She pulled back and placed her hands on his shoulders.

"Don't worry, Steve. If it happened for me then it's going to happen for you," Robin said. "That's how platonic soulmates work, right?"

"Duh," Steve rolled his eyes affectionately.

The bell above the door rang, and they turned their heads at the same time. Hopper walked in. Steve frowned. Was he really expecting Eddie to walk in and ask him out?

"Am I interrupting something?" Hopper asked.

"Vickie asked me out!" Robin blurted out.

"She the girl you kept going on about?" Hopper asked.

"Yeah," she said dreamily.

"I'm happy for you. You know, uh, that Gareth kid asked out Will," Hopper replied.

"Gareth and Will? I didn't even know they were friends," Steve said in surprise.

"Yeah, Gareth was upset about Eddie, sitting by his beside. Will was volunteering as usual and he comforted him," Hopper said.

"Will is such a precious angel," Robin said fondly.

"Yeah," Hopper said, a proud look on his face.

"Aw, proud dad," Robin said.

"Isn't Gareth a little bit older?" Steve asked.

"Only by two years," Hopper scoffed. "I like the guy. He's pretty respectful of Will and the three inches rule so I'll allow it for now."

"As long as it's not Mike, right?" Steve asked with a grin.

"Hey, I like the guy as long as none of my kids are dating him," Hopper said. "Which thankfully none are. I actually came here to talk to you, Steve."

"Look, I think of you like a dad and I like Joyce too much so I'm going to have to turn you down," Steve quipped and Robin snorted with laughter.

"Don't make me shoot you, kid," Hopper said, the corners of his mouth twitching. "I'd hate to kill a potential deputy."

"What?!" Steve and Robin asked.

"Look, as you know, we're kind of overrun over there even with Owens providing some agents as deputies," Hopper said. "I know you don't trust anyone of those goons, neither do I but we need the help and I kind of need to someone else that I trust around there. I know you guys have a thing about cops too but sometimes the best thing is to fix it from the inside, and I trust what you have to say. You're a good kid, with good instincts, and I think you would make a good cop. Just think about it."

"Well, then we wouldn't be working together," Robin said with wide eyes.

"You're welcome to help out around the station part time, kid. I'd hate to break up the set," Hopper said. "Your mom told me you were looking for a second job. What do you call each other again? Oh, yeah. Platonic soulmates."

"Platonic with a capital P!" they said, leaning their heads together.

"Let me confer with my soulmate for a moment," Robin said.

They moved to the back to the store and pressed their foreheads together, whispering. It was only a couple of minutes later before they were back again.

"We'll take the job!" Robin and Steve exclaimed.

Now, here they were several weeks later, and Steve had settled into his role as a deputy pretty well. It was hard work and a pretty good distraction from the fact that Eddie, as well as Max, wasn't awake. Now that school had let out for the summer and Robin had graduated, she was now working part-time at the station. The crowd outside the hospital was still sitting in wait for the day their lord and savior, Eddie Munson would awaken. Some days, they were quiet and settled. Other days, they grew quite rowdy, and there are more days now where they were restless. Hopper swore they would get bored eventually, and it wasn't like they were violent. . .well, aside from a rare few. So far, they were just eager to know that one of their own was okay, which Steve thought was kind of sweet. Steve was filling out paperwork at his desk, ignoring the balls of paper Robin was throwing at him, when Hopper came barreling out of his office looking pale.

"Chief?" Steve asked.

"They're awake," Hopper said.

Steve didn't hesitate to follow Hopper out the door, and Robin followed quickly behind him. They went to see Max first, and they her sitting up slightly, her new glasses on her face. Lucas, El, and Susan surrounded her bed.

"Did I miss anything?" Max asked and then grinned. "Ew, Steve, are you a cop? Disgusting."

"I'll forgive you for that, but so you know, once you are up and moving around, I'll have something to say," Steve said. "I might even get a lawyer because I believe that's slander, Mayfield."

"If your lawyer is Dustin, he's not going to do well against Nancy," Max laughed.

"Ooh, your lawyer is Nancy? Yeah, Dustin's toast," Robin said.

"You make a good cop, Steve," Max said softly. "If anyone can make those lazy cops get off their asses, it's you. You're an example of what a good cop should be, Steve."

"Thanks, Max," Steve said, looking touched. "Glad you're awake, kid."

"So, I have to ask. . .the full grown mustache. . . Are you trying to look like Hopper?" Max asked.

"What? No?!" Steve exclaimed.

"He does think of Hopper like a dad," Robin pointed out.

"Aww, Steve, do you want Hopper to be your dad?" Max teased.

"Leaving now," Steve said, rolling his eyes.

He made it to Eddie's room and stood in front of it. He was trembling in excitement, but he was also nervous. Before he became a cop, he was here almost every day holding his hand. In that time, he got to know Wayne and Eddie's friends. He also got to know Eddie some more from the stories they told. They were weary about him at first, but once they saw how much he cared, they accepted him easily. Once Steve got them talking about Eddie, they couldn't shut up. Steve took a deep breath and calmed his nerves. He pushed open the door and strolled in. The members of Hellfire and Corrded Coffin had surrounded Eddie's beside. Wayne wouldn't be there yet, seeing as he was stuck at work. Calling him had been the first thing he had done when he got to the hospital. Eddie was sitting up, grinning, and then he spotted Steve. Eddie frowned in confusion.

"Harrington! You've been working so hard we were starting to forget what you looked like," Jeff said. "Damn, baby, you fill out that uniform good."

Jeff started wolf whistling, and the other boys soon followed.

"Alright! Cut it out!" Steve laughed. "What did I say about flirting with me to get my grandmother's brownie recipe, Jeffrey?"

"To keep doing it," Jeff grinned.

"No, no, I did not say that besides, I know I'm not your type," Steve laughed.

"What? Since when is a man with good hair and meaty thighs not my type?" Jeff cackled.

"Argyle doesn't have a problem with it?" Steve asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Please, Argyle doesn't have a jealous bone in his body. Besides, so far, it's just sex," he grinned. "Really good sex."

"Wait. . .so, Steve knows about you? You're flirting with Steve. . .wait, are you friends with my friends?" Eddie asked.

"Actually, they're my friends now, too, Eddie. We share custody," Steve said proudly.

"Aw, Dad, we finally have a mother, and he makes the best brownies," Gareth said, leaning heavily onto Steve’s shoulder.

"Fuck off, Emerson," Steve laughed.

"By the way, since when are you a cop?" Eddie asked.

"Things around here have gotten a bit overwhelmed since you've been asleep," Steve shrugged.

"Yeah, Hawkins has gotten a lot more interesting since you decided to be lazy, Munson," Frankie said.

"It's very, very good," Gareth grinned.

"What the hell does that mean?" Eddie asked.

"You'll never believe it until you see it," Frankie said.

Hopper popped his head in for a moment and whispered in Steve's ear. He smirked and looked over at Eddie, who was staring at them in confusion. Steve wiggled his fingers at him. Hopper tipped his hat at Eddie before leaving. Steve leaned down and whispered in Gareth's ear, and he grinned, jumping up.

"Alright, boys," Gareth said. "Teddy wants to talk to us. He's probably quite eager for Eddie to start playing at the Hideout again!"

They said goodbye to him one by one, and then they were gone. Steve went to take Gareth's seat but was impeded by the crumbs he left behind. Steve started muttering as he turned around to clean it off, giving Eddie a clear view of his ass. Suddenly, Eddie's heart monitor started beeping a little louder. Steve whirled around.

"Eddie!" Steve exclaimed. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I think I accidentally, uh, messed with one of the wires," Eddie blushed.

"Okay," Steve frowned, looking at him, thoughtfully.

He turned around again and started swiping off the crumbs. Eddie's heart monitor went off again, and Steve turned around again.

"I swear! I am trying not to touch them!" Eddie shrieked. "Just sit down, man! Forget about the crumbs."

Confused by his reaction, Steve sat down, crossing his legs like he usually did. Eddie groaned and leaned his head back.

"Your uncle wanted to be here, but unfortunately, he missed a lot of days sitting by your beside, so he can't get away. The compensation money only went so far, and you guys also got a house out of it," Steve said, grinning.

"Wait, an actual house?!" Eddie asked.

"With your own rooms and everything," Steve replied. "Of course, you'll still be living next door to the Mayfields. I think Wayne insisted on it."

"Really?" Eddie asked.

"Yeah, Susan and Wayne have gotten friendly over the last few months," Steve shrugged.

"How friendly?" Eddie asked, narrowing his eyes.

"Well, he is the one who pulled Susan's head out of her own ass. Her drinking got worse after Max went into the coma. It nearly killed her. I was visiting with Wayne when I decided to go check in on Susan, and we found her unresponsive. When we finally got her sober enough, Wayne gave her quite the talking too," Steve said, and then he deepened his voice to sound like Wayne. "I ain't gonna yell at you, but I am going to tell you God's honest truth. I heard a lot about that husband and stepson of yours to know that you put that little girl through hell. You didn't lift a single finger to stop it. If you die now and that girl wakes up, it's always going to hang over her head that she wasn't enough for you to do better, that she deserved the crap you put her through. You owe it to her now to prove to her that she is enough and that you can do better. I expect you to be clean and waiting by her beside when she wakes up. Don't do it for me, don't do it for you. . .do it for her."

"Damn, that sounds exactly like Uncle Wayne," Eddie said, blinking back tears. "It worked?"

"Yeah, she's even therapy now working on her issues. She's really grateful for Wayne," Steve smiled.

"Good for her, I'm glad it worked on someone's parents," Eddie sighed.

"Yeah, Wayne's the best, I wish my dad was more like him," Steve said.

"Dads can be such assholes. Guess it's not just mine?" Eddie asked, and Steve shook his head. "So, when can I leave here? The food here is just awful. . .company isn't so bad, though."

"Once the doctor clears both you and Max, you guys should be able to go home by this evening," Steve said. "By the way, you are in luck. I'm the one who's going to be taking you home."

"Lucky me. . .so we won, huh?" Eddie asked.

"In more ways than one," Steve grinned.

Once they were ready to leave, Steve wheeled him out to the back of the hospital.

"I guess the protesters are out front," Eddie muttered.

"Something like that," Steve said and wheeled him over to his car.

He helped Eddie out of the wheelchair, catching him around the waist when the metalhead stumbled. They were really close now, their noses practically brushing up against each other's. Steve could feel Eddie's breath against his lips.

"Uh, I'd like to sit down," Eddie said awkwardly.

"Right, right," Steve said.

He cleared his throat and set Eddie in the passenger's seat. He pulled out of the hospital and frowned. For once, the usual people weren't there. Where the hell did they go? Steve got his answer a moment later when he saw them lined up on the sidewalk leaving the hospital. Eddie had to do a double take when he saw them walking down the street.

"What the fuck?! Steve. . .where the hell are we?" Eddie asked.

"We're in Hawkins, dude," Steve replied.

"Um, no the fuck we're not. What did I just see? There's more of them!" Eddie exclaimed as he stuck his head out the window.

"Oh my God! ls that Eddie Munson?!" A girl shrieks, and Eddie freezes. "EDDIE! I LOVE YOU!"

"Oh my God! Steve. She's chasing after the car like a goddamn dog! Steve! She's fucking fast! You tell me where the fuck we actually are right this instant, Steven, because there is no way this is fucking Hawkins! Are you - are you laughing at me? Steve!!" Eddie shrieked.

Steve pulled him down by his belt, and Eddie glared at him as he rolled up the window.

"Okay, so, after you slipped into your coma, the gates closed, and you were cleared of all charges, a lot of people started to leave. Most of them were uptight conservatives, of course. Word started spreading about you and how you were framed for murder. Slowly, it started off with the metalheads coming to town to support one of their own, then came the gays, the lesbians, and the bisexuals as well as a few transgender people. It was enough to kick out more uptight assholes but there are some who are refusing to leave. At first, they protested, but now they're slowly coming to terms with it. It's funny watching them have to sort of adjust to our way of life instead of the other way around," Steve said. "And these people, they all love you, Eddie."

"Our way of life?" Eddie asked.

"Well, for me and Robin, I don't know about you, but she's a lesbian and I'm bisexual," Steve said.

"Yeah, me too," Eddie said softly, and then his eyes widened. "I mean, bisexual, not a lesbian. Not there's anything wrong with being a lesbian but it's not who I am."

"Eddie, I got it," Steve said, laughing.

"So, what? After being nearly swallowed up by hell, Hawkins is a safe place to live now?" Eddie asked. "I woke up expecting to be chased out of my own hometown like they've been trying to do with me my whole life. This is just. . . What the fuck?"

Eddie looked down at his lap, his eyes filling up with tears. Once Steve managed to get away from Eddie's admirers, he pulled off to the side and parked onto the shoulder. He leaned over and pulled Eddie into his arms, hugging him gently. Eddie wrapped his arms around, his hands digging into his back as he cried.

"It's okay, I've got you. You're safe," Steve whispered in his ear.

Eddie clung to him as he calmed down. Once the tears stopped and his body was no longer shaking, he pulled away from him. Steve pulled a tissue out of the glove box and gave it to him. Eddie thanked him, and they drove the rest of the way to his house. They finally arrived at Eddie's house. It was in a secluded neighborhood, two houses at the end of the street, and blocked off by trees from the rest of the neighborhood, which meant that Eddie could probably play his music as loud as he wanted to. Although Max might have something to say about it. Eddie's house was a modest one story with white shudders and pale blue walls. The paint was peeling a bit, but overall, the house was nice, and it was a lot better than the trailer.

Eddie started struggling with his seat belt, which was perfect because Dustin's face appeared in the window, and the curtain pulled back. 'Not ready,' he mouthed. Steve sighed. That meant distracting Eddie. Steve grinned. He leaned over and started helping him with his seatbelt. They got it unstuck, but Steve didn't move from his position once the seat belt was removed. His face was rather close to Eddie's.

"There's something that I've been wanting to do since you woke up," Steve said.

"Kill me?!" Eddie yelped.

"What?! No!" Steve laughed. "Close, though."

He captured Eddie's perfectly plump lips with his, kissing him softly. At first, Eddie didn't respond, and Steve was worried that he misread the signals. He started to pull away when suddenly Eddie grabbed him the back of the neck and pulled him back in. Suddenly, his soft kiss had turned into a bruising, desperate kiss. Steve returned it with the same amount of enthusiasm, hand in Eddie's hair. Eddie broke the kiss, breathing heavily.

"Maybe we should take this inside," Eddie gasped.

"Or maybe we take this to the back seat, and you shackle me with my own handcuffs," Steve said and attached his lips to Eddie's neck.

Eddie groaned as Steve kissed his neck and let out a guttural moan when Steve started nipping at it, his mustache tickling his neck.

"You're killing me, Steve," Eddie said. "I fucking knew you would. Robin?"

Steve broke away and looked at him.

"Okay, I have to say calling me by my best friend's name when I'm trying to put the moves on you is a little weird," Steve said.

"What? No! She's just popped her head out of my new front door, looked at us, rolled her eyes, and went back in. What is going on?" Eddie asked.

"You'll see, come on," Steve said and climbed out of the car before helping Eddie.

"You were distracting me," Eddie said, narrowing his eyes at him.

"I really did want to kiss you," Steve said sheepishly.

They started walking towards when Eddie stopped him.

"You threw me a welcome home party, didn't you?" Eddie asked.

"I might have, for both you and Max," Steve said. "Planned the whole thing while you were sleeping."

Eddie grinned at Steve and wrapped his arms around his neck, kissing him deeply. He broke it, leaning his forehead against Steve’s.

"This is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me," Eddie said and paused. "By the way, you're absolutely killing me with that uniform. It should be illegal for anyone to look this good. You're going to have to arrest yourself because, baby, you're breaking quite a few laws."

Steve giggled and kissed him, not caring if anyone else was watching them. They broke apart when they heard Max's front door open. She came out and started walking towards Eddie's house, leaning on her cane. She narrowed her eyes at them, looking much like a bug with her new glasses. Her mother followed behind her.

"Dustin called and said he wanted us to come over," Max said. "He threw us a party, didn't he?"

"I'm not saying anything," Eddie said, and Max rolled her eyes. "It was all Steve!"

"Nice," Steve scoffed.

"Thanks, Steve," Max said softly.

She wrapped her arm around his waist, hugging him. She leaned against him and let him help her inside. His free hand wrapped around Eddie's. They all walked into the small but spacious living room where everyone jumped out with noisemakers. Steve, Eddie, and Max jumped. Max stuffed her face into Steve’s side.

"Surprise!" Dustin shrieked. "Welcome home!"

"Oh my god!" Eddie exclaimed. "I am so surprised!"

"Oh, Goddamnit! Steve told you, didn't he?" Dustin exclaimed and Eddie shrugged, grinning.

"He guessed," Steve shrugged.

"This is still pretty nice, Henderson. Thank you all," Eddie said, and he started hugging everyone. "Max is crying, by the way."

"Fuck off!" Max exclaimed.

Steve watched as the party took off, and Eddie mingled with everyone. For the first time in a long time, Steve felt at peace, and he felt safe, especially when he looked at Eddie. . . When he looked at what this town had become. At some point during the mingling, Eddie came over and nestled himself into Steve’s arms. Yeah, everything was perfect.

[ladykailitha]

Icarus Part 18

Hey, guys! I'm back!!! I had a great and very productive hiatus, the results of which can be found here.

But tl;dr is that this story is complete, so it will be regularly updated on Sunday until it's done. Then I will release the story that started this all "The Rise of The Fallen" in two parts, also on Sundays. Which will take us all the to December, if you can believe it.

I'm still working on the other stories and at least The Hellfire Exotic Club (stripper), The Caged Bird Still Sings (sugar!baby), and Of Butterflies and Backstrokes (Olympic swimmer) are all going to be fairly long so that should be exciting. Then I'll be working on the fun little game show story now called "A Love Connection". Which won't come out until one of the others ends. Sorry. But WIP Wednesday will show you teases of it until then.

I recommend rereading the previous chapter to refresh your memory and away we go!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17

~

Steve was riding on the best high. Their next song was “Kiss the Boys/Kiss the Girls”. The song was about finding love in whatever form that took. With a full verse on non-binary folks, despite the title. There was nothing in the world that could compare to crowds screaming your name. It didn’t even matter that the name they were screaming wasn’t Steve, it was Abbadon.

He stumbled into the green room that had all their stuff in it. Corroded Coffin had taken the stage and him and his boys were relaxing with their masks off, Hopper at the door.

“I’ve never been so nervous in my life!” Shane said after downing an entire water bottle. “That crowd was massive! And diverse! Usually we just get college aged kids but there were literal kids out there and old time rockers too.”

“Shit, yeah,” Spence said, pushing his hood off his head to splash a little water on his head. He didn’t have a spotlight on him but wearing all black still made for a hot set.

Shane laid down on the floor, sprawled out spread eagle. “Is this is what real fame is like?”

Steve slid off the chair he was sitting in, to sit next to him. “God, I have such mixed feelings about that if it is. Because the energy was off the charts and I’m pretty sure I sung my heart out...”

“But you aren’t sure you keep up with it for the whole tour?” Simon asked quietly.

Steve threw his head back to rest on the seat of the chair. “Yeah. I don’t want to burn out before I turn thirty, you know?”

“You should talk to Eddie about what they do not to burn out,” Spence suggested. “Because they’ve been doing this for ten years and longer tours than this.”

Steve hummed his agreement.

Suddenly there was a knock on the door. “Celeste, incoming,” Hopper muttered, before opening the door.

Anyone in view of the door, put their mask over their face and then off again when the door closed behind their manager.

“Good job, guys,” Robin said cheerily and sat down on the floor between Shane and Steve. “I just got off the phone with Vickie and she says social media is going batshit insane about the song and Steve’s intro. And it’s good. Like really good. There are some assholes, but it seems that even the media and music critics are calling it the next gay anthem.”

“What are they saying?” Simon asked, sitting up on the sofa and scooting to the edge.

Robin grinned. “This is my favorite one: Heaven is where the assholes are, we always knew all the good people were in hell. Keep up the good work, Abbadon and all of the rest of The Fallen. From Metallica’s official Twitter.”

The room was deathly silent for all of two seconds before they all erupted into gleeful screams. They all jumped on her and started hugging her tightly.

“Get off me! Get off me!” she shrieked. “You’re all sweaty and gross!”

They deliberately smeared themselves all over her before they got off, giggling like children.

“Boys!” she huffed dramatically. “So gross. I swear you lot don’t grow up you just get older.”

Steve leaned over and gave a huge kiss on the cheek. “Probably, but you wouldn’t love us if we were any different.”

Robin swiped her cheek in an exaggerated fashion. “Maybe, but boys are still gross.” She went on to tell them all things that Vickie was sending her about the world’s reaction to the song.

Then after a while she bumped into Steve’s shoulder. “Go on. I know you want go watch some of the show, I’ll hold down the fort here.”

Steve smiled at her and gave her shoulder a squeeze. He got to his feet and put his mask back on. After checking to make sure no one was in view, he knocked on the door for Hopper to let him out.

Once the door closed, Robin let out a long sigh. “I worry about those two.”

“Who?” Shane said, sitting up for the first time. “Steve and Eddie? Why?”

She nodded, pulling her knees up to her chest and tucking her chin between her knees. “Being in the closet is hard. And I know Abbadon has come out, but he’s still in the ‘closet’ as it were about his identity and Eddie and Steve having to hide their relationship on top of Steve hiding who is... let’s just say that great relationships then theirs have crumbled under the pressure.”

The room was silent as they all took that in.

“Are we just doomed from having relationships?” Spence asked. “Are we all destined to be lonely?”

Simon’s lips quivered. “I hate that I have all these women throwing themselves at me but they really don’t care who’s under the mask.”

“I hit up every gay bar in every city we tour in as me,” Shane muttered picking at the skin around his nails, “and I don’t know if it’s worse they don’t know who I am than if I had gone as Astraeus.”

“I’m trying to have a girlfriend,” Spence said bitterly, “but all I can tell her is that I travel for work. And yeah it’s new enough she isn’t asking as what, but how much longer can I dodge that question?”

Robin let out another sigh. “I know, and it’s not as though I can really date either. Are they dating the goofy lesbian Robin, or the sophisticated fashion plate, Celeste? But with Eddie I think Steve has it harder.”

“It’s because Eddie is famous, huh?” Simon asked, sliding off the sofa to sit next to Shane on the floor.

Spence got up and curled up around Shane. Robin inserted herself into the pile and they just cuddled until the show was over.

~

Steve wanted to be on that stage more than anything, just singing with Eddie, happy and free. But he was Abbadon right now and while he might get away with it, Steve didn’t feel comfortable with the not being able to kiss his boyfriend senseless.

He waited until the it’s almost time for the encore before he slipped back into the green room. Everyone else is already changed and gone. It’s just Robin as Celeste waiting for him.

“How did he not have a boyfriend before now?” Steve muttered as he pulled on the khakis and blue polo shirt of his ‘uniform.’

Robin snorted. “For the same reason you went pretty thin on the dating field. He was hung up on a special someone.”

Steve blushed and ducked his head. “I’m assume you think it’s me.” He ran his fingers through his hair, trying to get it lay straight after being hidden under the hood for so long.

Robin got to her feet and leaned down to look him in the eye. “Are you telling me you don’t?”

Steve looked away. Robin gently lifted his chin and then held his face her hands. “Steven Kincade Harrington, you listen to me close. You are worthy of love. You are worthy of care. You are worthy of attention. And Eddie Munson is one hundred percent onboard to give all three. Of course he was waiting for you. Any person with eyes can see how much he loves you. Fuck, Simon bristles every time he’s brought up now because instead him being your protector like it used to be, it’s Eddie.”

Steve stared at her with his mouth wide open. “Simon’s jealous of Eddie?”

Robin laughed and kissed his stupid head.

“Babe,” she said fondly. “Spence and Shane have been beating him off with a stick every time Eddie comes around.”

“But Simon doesn’t protect me,” Steve said tilting his head to the side. “I protect him. He’s so painfully shy outside of the band and he’s always curled up on my lap.”

“Please tell me you aren’t that naive,” she said. “He is always sticking up for you about your writing, about your singing. When it comes to band stuff Simon is the biggest mama bear of them all.”

Steve blinked at her for a moment and then mouthed the word “Oh.”

“You are such a dingus,” she said shaking her head. “But you’re my dingus so that evens it out a bit.”

He pushed her playfully. “I’m going to get out there before people wonder where the missing EMT is.”

He slipped out a different way from when he came in and she watched him go. Steve was brilliant at a lot of things, people included. But he always had a blindspot when it came to when other people caring for him.

She sighed and then made her way out of the green room so that Corroded Coffin could unwind now.

Robin passed Chrissy on the way out.

“Hey,” Chrissy said with a huge smile. “My boys want to go afterwards with your boys, you think they’d be down?”

“Of course they would!” she replied. “As The Fallen or no?”

Chrissy slapped her palm to her forehead. “Shit I forgot. As The Fallen. But they have casual masks to go in right?”

Robin smiled back at her. “It’s fine, of course they have casual masks. I’ll let them know. It’ll have to be much later because they have to be see as normies for a bit before they slip back into The Fallen.”

Chrissy winked and tapped the side of her nose. “I got you.”

Just then all the Corroded Coffin boys came bursting from the stage into the wings, whooping and screaming. They huddled together, arms around each other and counted to twenty.

Once they got to one, Eddie screamed whooped again and all four of them ran back on stage.

Robin blinked at them for a moment. “Didn’t they just have an encore?”

Chrissy threw back her head and laughed. “Depending on the city they can do anywhere from two to five encores.”

“Holy shit!” Robin said in genuine awe. “That’s insane.”

“It’s not even their record,” she said.

Robin’s eyebrows shot up. “There’s no way.”

“Six in Salt Lake City,” she explained. “Just coming off their third album, the one with eight singles. Which was too many in my opinion but apparently a couple radio stations thought there were a really good deep tracks and played. Then it got around, yaddy yadda. You get the drift.”

“But six?” Robin asked a little unsure.

Chrissy nodded. “Salt Lake is crazy for that shit though. I’ve heard bands go there if they want their ego stoked.”

“Any bands avoid it for that reason?” Robin giggled.

“I have no doubt there are,” she said with a hum. “Most of the time bands whine about the lack of boobs and booze when they refuse to go back.”

Robin rolled her eyes. “Men are so gross.”

“Agreed,” she replied with a wink. “Go lesbian power.”

Robin fist bumped her. “I’ve got to go look like a PA schlep for awhile. I’ll text you when they’re free.”

“You’ve got it girlie!” Chrissy said.

~

Eddie was not pleased that they were at a bar. A bar was the last place he wanted Gareth to be right now.

But he insisted he would be fine and seemed for the most part to be sticking to a cherry coke, but Eddie was keeping an eye on him.

Things were actually going well until...

Astraeus let out a yelp of pain.

Abbadon and Azrael were on their feet in an instant, Asmodeus close behind. There was a little action going on so Eddie couldn’t see what happened, but oh boy did he see the aftermath.

Standing behind The Fallen’s bassist was an asshole with his phone up, filming and another guy yanking on Astraeus’ hood.

“Get off of him,” Abbadon hissed. “Or else.”

Abbadon was the shortest of his band, but fuck in that moment, he looked the most intimidating.

The dude with phone scoffed. “Or what? I’m filming you, you can’t do shit.”

Steve let out a huge ear-piercing whistle and yelled, “Security!”

The two dudes’ eyes went wide as they turned to scramble away from their table, but ran into two very meaty looking guys flanking Hopper.

“You two boys going somewhere?” the head of security asked, low and dangerously.

“We weren’t doing anything!” the one dude said. Not the one with the phone, but the one who had pulled on Astraeus’ hood.

“Yeah?” he asked. “And would these boys say the same?”

The asshole with the phone scoffed. “They’re just a bunch of weird, rich assholes, they’d say whatever.”

“And the security cameras won’t show you filming your friend here, yanking on this man’s hoodie?”

The two dudes looked at each in actual fear for the first time.

“And by the way, that’s assault,” Hopper continued to press. “So unless you want to be arrested, you’ll delete that little videos of yours unless you really, really want to broadcast your crime to the internet.”

The guy with the phone had Hopper watch him delete it off his phone.

“Good,” he said, “now these two gentlemen are going to escort out of the building, a building you’ll never be allowed to come back to ever again.”

After Hopper left with the bouncers and the two idiots, Gareth turned to them.

“Shit,” he said, “that was fucking terrifying. Does that happen a lot?”

Abbadon and Azrael exchanged a glance.

“More than it really should,” Azrael said. “It’s why Ellie designed a hoodie that would be harder to yank off. The trade off unfortunately is that hurts like a bitch when it’s pulled.”

“That fucking sucks, man,” Jeff said. “The next round of drinks is on me.”

Eddie nodded, but inside he was screaming. He didn’t know that this was something the band experienced at all. And even if he didn’t know who they were, that would still freak him out. But it was worse knowing it was Steve that they were doing this to.

Abbadon squeezed his hand under the table. It didn’t reassure him, not really, but it was still nice that Steve recognized his turmoil.

The night was a little more subdued after that as the Corroded Coffin boys thought about the implications of what just happened and The Fallen boys because all they wanted was a fun night out and it was ruined.

~

Part 19 Part 20 Part 21

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