#I was so caught up in the euphoria of seeing storm love and appreciation

[teatitty]

Me, foolish: Hmm I wonder what's going on with x-men twitt today we've been very chill and nice all week

X-Men twitt: mad as fuck that Logan and Akihiro are being allowed to bond and get along again and have a nicer father-son dynamic because they want Akihiro to stay homicidal

Me: Ah (￣_￣|||)

[putas-in-suffering]

Business Transaction

Pairing: Miguel Galindo x Escort!Female Reader/You

Rating: Explicit, NSFW 18+ older

Warnings: Language, unprotected vaginal sex, mentions of bodily fluids, Miguel being a dick (we love to see it)

Word Count: 1.8K

Summary: Part 1. Supply and demand. You supply. Miguel demands.

A/N: Cartel Daddy is up next! He’s his best asshole, rich, daddy self in this one so proceed with caution. Enjoy and share with your fellow sucias! Feedback is the preferred drug for our addiction and greatly appreciated 💖💖

**We added a Part 2! Read it here.

“Fuck…”

The front door banged open, slamming harshly against the wall as you crashed through. Neither one of you showed concern for the possible damage. You were too wrapped up in each other to take notice of anything else. That’s how it had been all evening. And now that tension was finally breaking free and spilling over.

Your curse fell on deaf ears as Miguel’s hands lifted you easily off the ground, prompting you to wrap your legs around his waist. His mouth attacked your neck with a ferocity, his lips and teeth clashing. You threaded your fingers through his thick hair and tugged at the roots, enjoying the immediate growl that reverberated against your flesh. You jerked when you felt the cool marble of the kitchen counter suddenly beneath you. You’d been so lost in the sensations that you hadn’t realized that he’d walked you both into the kitchen, his intent clear.

Your mouths united once again as you settled onto the counter, the smooth surface cooling your overheated skin. Your dress was hiked up, the scrap of lace at the juncture of your thighs visible. You used your legs to pull Miguel’s body closer to you, seeking out the friction your lower body so desperately needed.

“Miguel…” You moaned, arching into him when his hand engulfed your breast. He moved with purpose, bypassing any formalities. You both were more than ready to use the other, needing to satiate that primal hunger that had held you captive all night.

“Panties off.” He ordered gruffly, stepping away from you. His hands went to the belt of his black slacks, his fingers undoing the claps and buttons quickly. You followed his demand, shifting your dress up higher on your hips and lifting your ass off the counter to remove your underwear. You barely had time to get them fully down your legs, the fabric getting caught on your heel before Miguel was on you once again.

Your bodies crashed together, your movements frenzied and impatient. Frantic breaths filled the air as you both readied to accept the other. You widened your legs while he grasped his length and aligned himself with your opening. Your nails dug into the fabric of his suit jacket, but he could still feel the sting of pain. He bit at your neck in retaliation.

He didn’t check to ensure you were prepared for him. He didn’t ask for permission or if you were ready. He said nothing. He only thrust…hard and deep. You whimpered at the brutality of it. Your body had been begging for it, yet you could feel the instinctual need to back away from the primal intensity. It was almost too much. It was like this every time. A raging storm of pleasure and pain that held you captive.

He was fully sheathed inside of you in an instant, the lubrication of your walls easing the intrusion only somewhat. He was generously sized and your body should’ve been prepped, but neither of you cared to do so. There was no care or concern involved in this coupling. It was raw; both of you damn near feral with desire.

“Oh god…shit…” You moaned as he pulled his hips back and then led his cock into you once again. His pace was slow, but measured, his grip on your ass the only thing keeping you from falling off the counter. His mouth roamed the expanse of your cleavage, his facial hair leaving a burn of irritation in its wake. You threaded your hands through his hair, pulling at the roots with a force that should’ve hurt but you knew only added to the carnal fire that raged around you.

Miguel grunted with every thrust, his movements now aided by the copious amounts of moisture that collected between the two of you. You forced your eyes open when you felt his intense gaze on you. He was watching you intently, his face almost contorted into a snarl as he fucked up into you. You winced at the force behind his hips and you swore you saw a corner of his mouth lift in satisfaction. The coil in your stomach began to unwind, but it refused to fully release. You were stuck between prolonging the push and pull of two twisted souls or succumbing to the addicting sensation of falling headlong into euphoria.

The latter won out.

You moved your hand to where your bodies were joined, aiming for you clit, but a rough hand stopped you. Miguel shoved your hand away, almost insulted by your decision. Instead, he stopped thrusting and placed a hand on your lower stomach, easing you back. You watched in rapt fascination as he spit, his saliva landing exactly on the place you’d been seeking. Yours eyes rolled, your entire body ready to catapult itself into space just on that action alone.

“Fuuuuck…” You whimpered when his finger assaulted the appendage, his hips picking up their brutal rhythm. Your arms were failing to support you so you laid back, spine unwilling to straighten as you were fucked into oblivion.

Your hands sought out your breasts, pulling the neckline of your dress down so that you could pay them proper attention. Your tugged at your nipples and yelped when a slap to your swollen pussy landed on your oversensitive flesh, your entire body jerking in response.

“Shit…do that again.” Miguel grunted between clenched teeth.

You knew what he meant. You’d felt it too. Your walls had clamped down on him, forcing his cock to twitch while buried to the hilt inside you. Your toes curled as you obeyed his request and felt him jerk again, the end for you both near. His hips worked fast this time, his cock barely leaving you before it was returning. The sound of flesh slapping off each other echoed throughout the massive space, your moans getting louder as your orgasm built.

“Yes, yes…right there…” You urged as the familiar wisps of climax started to pull you under. You bucked in response to his punishing pace, your limbs starting to tense as that coil finally snapped. You could only gasp, no other sounds formulating in your throat. You squeezed your eyes shut until lights danced behind them, the feel of Miguel’s throbbing cock prolonging your pleasure.

“Fuck, yeah…like that.” He encouraged, his pelvis plastering to yours as he released inside of your quaking channel. His fingers dug into your hips, his cum filling you to capacity. You tremored with aftershocks as he continued to pump, his speed significantly slower.

He only took a moment to catch his breath before he was entangling himself from you. You could feel him slip from your clutches, albeit sluggishly. You were both drained of energy, your heaving chests trying to fill your lungs back up with air. Your skin stuck to the still cold counter beneath you, the feeling now making you shiver. The jingling of a belt buckle prompted you to sit up, careful of the mess between your thighs. You adjusted your dress, a contented smile on your made-up lips. Miguel glanced back at you as he resituated his slacks, his appearance no longer giving away to what he’d been up to seconds before.

“A hand?” You asked, holding yours out to him. He wordlessly stepped forward and helped you down, the mask of indifference back on his features.

Once you were steadied on your heels, he bent down to retrieve your panties, handing them over. You bit your lip and took them, silently following him as he led you to the front door. He grabbed the clutch that’d been carelessly tossed to the floor when you’d arrived and gave it back to you.

“Felt like slumming it tonight?” You teased. You always enjoyed teasing Miguel. He was a serious man, often formal with those he met. But you’d known him awhile, had the pleasure of doing business with him on a semi-regular basis. It’d become a game of yours, to see if you could get him to break his façade. And he usually did, especially when you were fucking each other.

But tonight was different. Something was weighing heavy on his mind. He’d been more quiet than usual, even rougher, if at all possible. You hadn’t minded because you weren’t a delicate daisy. You were there to be what he needed, even if that was just a place to take out his aggression.

“I’d hardly call a four-thousand dollar escort “slumming””. He retorted flatly, finally meeting your gaze.

“Well, luxury has a price. You know that.” You stepped closer to him, adjusting the collar of his shirt. He eyed you tensely, his lips pursed with tension of another kind. “You alright?” You asked sincerely, knowing he would dodge the question. Miguel wasn’t one for long talks or venting sessions, especially because the source of his stress was running a multi-million dollar drug cartel.

He immediately nodded, predictably not bothering to give your question any thought. “Fine. Jorge will take you home.” He said with a clipped tone, gesturing to the awaiting Escalade out front.

You nodded, allowing him to avoid the topic. He was the boss after all. “Okay. Night.”

You took a step towards the door, but stopped when his hand reached for you.

“I’ll need you Monday night. A gala.” He informed you stiffly, his fingers caressing the flesh of your arm tenderly, eclipsing the harshness he’d shown earlier.

“Sure.”

“Buy a new gown. Have Hector charge it to my account. And make it-,”

“Classy, I know.” You interrupted, rolling your eyes to emphasize your point. “I always am, baby. Its why I’m the best.” You winked, successfully pulling a smile from him.

He chuckled and nodded, not bothering to dispute your claim. He knew it was true. It was why you were his only girl and he was your only client. Miguel only ever indulged in the best and he dropped major cash to get it. He had an image to uphold and you were there as the cherry on top of his opulent life. The sex was just an added bonus…one you got compensated for.

“Goodnight.” He kissed your cheek, lips barely grazing the corner of your mouth.

You basked in the affection and sent him a flirty smile, adjusting your breasts against the fabric of your dress. He opened the door and watched as you climbed into the SUV, the flash of thigh and leg as you got in capturing both Miguel’s and the driver’s attention. You pulled your compact from your purse and touched up your smeared make-up, relishing in the residual buzz of your powerful orgasm. The man didn’t need to find pleasure in the arms of a paid escort. He was blindingly attractive and sickeningly wealthy. He could find a willing pussy within a two mile radius. But his life wasn’t cut out for just anyone. Women came and went but none could hold it down.

Enter you.

You were anything and everything he needed you to be. It was your job and you did it well. Your cum-filled pussy cemented that fact. And Miguel Galindo may be a murdering, cheating, conniving cartel boss, but he also knew how to fuck. The money may keep your bills paid, but the sex? That’s what kept you coming back.

[ryosei-hime]

Sex and Therapy: The Life Reaffirmation

Fizz and Concord have some quality time together to reaffirm life after their ordeal. This is probably the longest it's taken me to write a chapter. Partially due to some life stuff, family stuff, medical stuff. But for some reason it also proved a bit difficult to manage all the different emotions going on all at once. There's still parts I feel I could have spent more time on but at this point, I decided it was better to just get it out. There is some life reaffirming sex in here. : P Also available on AO3.

Concord buzzed with impatience as he waited in the living room with Lannah, leg bouncing. He hunched forward, holding himself. He would surely spill upon the floor like the mess he’d become if he didn’t. Cog hadn’t told him how long this would take and every tick of the clock killed him a little more. Lannah tried to fill the anxious silence, but Concord couldn’t focus on her words. He just nodded and made little noises where it felt appropriate. Lannah never caught on or if she did, she chose not to call him out on it. 

He tortured himself with thoughts of what-if. What if Fizz reset? How would he nurture and care for a whole new version of Fizz while still mourning him? Would he still be Fizz if he did? Did someone lose who they were when they suffered amnesia? How was this different for an AI? And what if he didn’t survive at all? Scenarios raced across his mind and jumbled together. It made him dizzy and sick to his stomach.

When Cog finally emerged, he jumped up in surprise, hurrying forward. As she approached, Concord tried to rush by her, but a hard slap to his shoulder with the back of her hand made him stumble backwards. He shrank from her furious glare. Judgement that could put Heaven itself to shame burned into him like hot coals.

“What is wrong with you?!” Cog demanded as he cowered. “What did I tell you before I left? He deserved to know! He needed to be prepared for that to happen! He could have disappeared and never had a chance to say the things he needed to say! I know this has been hard for you, too, but you’re a therapist, Concord! You should know how to put your own shit aside when you have to!” 

“I’m a therapist, but I’m also a person,” Concord stated, eyes cast down. “I got scared and I made a mistake. I’m acutely aware of it, I promise you. Hit me again if it makes you feel better. But I can’t change it now.” 

Cog balled her fist up as if she might, and he tensed, but she relaxed it with a defeated sigh. He almost wished she would do it. A part of him needed someone to punish him for this. But she just stared off to the side, refusing to look at him.

“He’s out of danger now. Don’t call me unless something goes wrong. I’ll let you know when I’m ready to start working again.” 

Cog stormed by him and slammed the door on her way out. Lannah ran after her with a quick, apologetic glance in his direction. Concord could hear her calling out to Cog, trying to offer her a ride she didn’t want. He stood and listened until they’re voices disappeared down the hall.

Concord should have run to Fizz as soon as the door closed behind Lannah. He felt the pull to, but his hooves were rooted to the spot. Cog’s words weighed too heavily on his mind, the guilt settling into his chest like an anchor. It took Fizz calling out for him to move. Nothing could stop him answering that voice. He opened the door and stepped in with a cringe, expecting Fizz to take his turn at punishing him. 

Instead a hand touched his and he looked down as Fizz’s fingers closed around his own. His eyes followed Fizz’s arm all the way back to the bed where he waited, fully stripped and ready to go. It was so unexpected, Concord actually felt a little embarrassed for a moment. But Fizz just grinned .

“Guess what I can do now.” 

Concord let out a little laugh as Fizz started pulling him towards the bed. 

“Cog said you could?” 

“Mm hm.” 

“You sure?” 

“Would I lie?”

“You might.” 

“Fair,” Fizz assented as Concord reached the bed. “Want to call and check?” 

“No. I’ll trust you this time.”

Fizz’s fingers slid over his cheeks, cradling his face as he stared deep into his eyes. Concord could gaze into those bright eyes forever, like a moth to a flame, but such a lingering stare wasn’t normal for Fizz. Not without the accompaniment of his tongue exploring Concord’s mouth or the euphoria of afterglow, anyway. 

“Do you have the energy for this?” Concord asked gently. “We can sleep first.” 

“I’ve got all the energy I need now. I just wanted to look. Is that okay?” 

“I like it. You have beautiful eyes.”

“You, too, baby.”

Concord felt warmth creep up his cheeks. It felt almost like the first time again. Or maybe like the first time for the first time. So much weird nervous energy ran between them that hadn’t been there in the beginning. Fizz seemed as slow to make his move as Concord. 

“Do you need more sleep?” Fizz asked. 

“Mm mm. I want you.” 

Fizz’s hands released his face to grab him around the waist and pull him closer. Concord straddled his leg now, a knee up on the edge of the bed.

“How do you want me, my love?”

Concord let his hands rest on Fizz’s shoulders, smiling shyly as he slid his fingers around to grip his neck. He leaned in, touching his forehead to Fizz’s.

“Well, since we won’t be getting out of bed for days anyway, why don’t you just wreck me?”

Fizz grinned deviously. 

“Well, you are very cute. And that does make me want to wreck you.”

Concord let Fizz close the distance. His lips were soft at first, becoming hungry and demanding as his good arm wrapped around his waist. Concord released a soft sound of surprise as Fizz lifted him and rolled them over onto the bed before releasing him. With that little toss, the anchor in his chest had been flung free. He landed at Fizz’s side and laughed happily, grabbing his face and pulling it in for another kiss. 

Fizz’s fingers were cool and slick, sending a shiver down his spine as they ran up his back. Concord’s slipped around to his neck as he hooked a leg over Fizz’s hip. Fizz’s hands raced back down to grip Concord’s, pulling him closer, grinding against him. Concord moaned into the kiss, the feeling of his fingers digging into his hips reminding him of their first night together. 

Nervousness shot through him, ricocheting through his guts and between ribs. He stared into Fizz’s eyes again as their lips parted, losing himself in the glow. They smiled at one another for a moment longer than usual before Fizz rolled him over onto his back and positioned himself between his legs.

He lifted the hem of Concord’s shirt and he shifted so Fizz could pull it off. As he pulled it up over his head, he stopped halfway, leaving Concord trapped in a dark cotton prison. With an evil chuckle, Fizz descended on his stomach, blowing raspberries up and down his sides. Concord let out a surprised laugh and started kicking his legs but they just flailed uselessly around Fizz without hitting anything. 

“Stop!” he cried between peals of laughter. “Fizz, please! Mercy!” 

Fizz released the shirt sleeves, allowing Concord to pull it the rest of the way off, but he kept blowing raspberries into his stomach mercilessly. Concord grabbed one of his jester tails and pulled his head away as he sat up, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. 

“Stop,” he repeated, trying to catch his breath, a stray laugh escaping here and there. “Why?”

“I wanted to hear you laugh.” He stuck his tongue out and leaned in toward his face. 

“Next time try a joke,” he stated, pushing his face away. 

Concord’s amused tone softened the shove, only making Fizz chuckle again.

“But I like your surprised laugh best. It’s the cutest.” 

Concord blushed and Fizz pushed him back onto the bed, hands on his shoulders. There it was again. His heart beat like a bee in a jar, thumping erratically against his ribcage. His breath caught somewhere between his lungs and his throat. It felt like falling in love with him all over again. 

He tilted his head as Fizz began his usual conquest down his neck and across his shoulders. But every kiss and nip felt like fire, warm and sharp, burning a line straight down his chest and into his loins. His hands slid up Fizz’s arms as his breath finally escaped in soft gasps of pleasure, fingers stumbling over the kink in his broken arm. He ran a thumb over the injury gently, letting his hand rest there. 

“Own me,” he gasped out as Fizz bit down on his shoulder. “Make me yours.”

His teeth sunk in, piercing flesh. Concord gripped his arms, claws scratching against metal as he hissed in a breath and let out a moan. A sinister laugh dripped from Fizz’s mouth as he released Concord’s shoulder. 

Concord really wanted to be shown he belonged to Fizz, but he also wanted to give Fizz back some sense of control after all that had happened. They both needed this. Fizz tasted the pinpricks he’d left behind before sitting back to smirk down at him. He brushed his cheek gently before sliding off.

“On your knees.”

Concord kneeled with his back to Fizz as he tied his hands with the rope still floating around their sheets. Concord bit his lip as the rope tightened around his wrists. He waited for Fizz to push him down, but it didn’t come. His hands glided over his shoulders instead, fingers trailing down his arms delicately. He could almost feel the pressure of his gaze as it traveled over his body.

“Is something wrong?” 

“Just admiring my little plaything,” Fizz breathed against the back of his neck. 

Concord felt a shiver go down his spine. Satan, he never got tired of hearing that. He leaned forward, letting himself fall face first into a pillow. He turned his head to look over his shoulder and shook his ass, tail swishing back and forth. 

“Like what you see?”

“I don’t know,” Fizz replied with a chuckle. “I think I need to come in for a closer inspection.” 

Fizz’s fingers ran over his sides lightly before slipping around to cup ass. Concord watched his face as he made an appreciative sound, eyes following his own fingers as they roamed. He had a playful smile, but his eyes were genuinely focused. 

“Looks pretty sturdy to me.” He pulled at the waistband of his pants. “But let’s take a look under the hood.”

Concord gave a little laugh and slipped his tail out, waving it distractingly in Fizz’s face. Fizz grabbed it and traced the edges with his tongue before very gently biting down. Concord turned his face in towards the pillow, muffling a shaky moan. Fizz knew just how to play with his tail now, pointed teeth raking across sensitive skin so carefully. 

His tongue slipped out and twined around his tail to hold it as he sucked on the edges. His hands returned to Concord’s hips, one slipping around to find him already fully aroused. He had to release his tail or risk having him go off too soon and Concord let it curl around his leg instead. 

He flexed his fingers, pulling at the ropes a little as Fizz’s good arm coiled around his waist once more, lifting his upper body. He leaned over him and Concord enjoyed the familiar feeling of being enveloped by his taller lover. It made him feel safe to be tucked up against him, Fizz between him and the rest of the world. He pressed his lips to the base of his horn, tracing the skin around it lightly with the tip of his tongue.

“All mine,” he purred, the arm around his waist pulling him back into Fizz, positioning him. “Every last inch.”

Concord groaned as the hand that had been lightly holding his cock started stroking, slow and steady. Fizz savored the little sounds of pleasure coming from beneath him, taking his time before picking up the pace. He ran his tongue up Concord’s horn and around the curve at the end. 

Concord cried out as he thrust into him suddenly, biting down on his horn. He didn’t bother building up the pace here, starting off fast and hard. He used the coiled arm about his waist to pull Concord back into his thrusts roughly. Concord knew he could be loud at the best of times, but he had the neighbors banging on the wall today. Satan help him, he couldn’t care. His whole world revolved around the exquisite feeling of Fizz slamming into him with all the finesse of a mac truck. 

He took him more times than Concord could count in his current state, their soft words and touches between contrasting so sweetly with the rough sex. But Concord finally had to put a stop to the fun. His body could only take so much abuse, though the spirit was certainly still willing. Fizz laughed when he voiced this and held him close, spreading kisses over his “weak little flesh prison,” the phrasing of which had Concord laughing with him.  

Concord nuzzled his face into Fizz’s chest as the laughter died down and sighed happily. The lack of sufficient sleep had made them a little ridiculous towards the end, he theorized now that their energy began to come down from a buzzing delirium to a soft exhaustion. But they deserved it after the past few days.

Fizz’s fingers played restlessly over his horns and through his hair, making Concord hum softly at the sensation. They laid that way for a while, Concord listening to the sounds of Fizz’s machinery whirring softly, near silently, deep in his chest. It comforted him to hear everything running so smoothly.  

“Concord,” Fizz started. 

His fingers stopped and rested on his horn now. Concord gave him a moment, but he didn’t seem like he would continue. 

“Yes, my love?”

“Do you like it...when I call you a good boy?”

The hesitancy in his voice on this particular subject concerned Concord. He’d never known Fizz to be nervous when talking about sex. Especially not after a day like this.

“Of course, I do,” he replied with a touch of desire in his voice. “I love pleasing you and I love when you tell me I’ve done a good job at it.”

“And you like when I tease you, right?” 

“Mm hm,” he said with a lusty lilt. “It makes everything so good when you finally give it to me.” 

If Fizz’s intentions were to get him all worked up again, he was well on his way to helping Concord’s spirit convince his body it could take one more round. But that thought went out the window at his next question.

“And the biting doesn’t bother you?”

Something was very wrong if he felt he had to ask about that. Concord made his voice gentle now, reassuring. 

“Fizz, if there were anything you did that I didn’t enjoy, I’d tell you.”  Concord ran his hand up and down his arm soothingly. “Do you wanna tell me what’s bothering you?”

“It’s just...I noticed that I do some of the things he did. I say things to you he said to me.” 

An instant rage bubbled up in Concord’s heart at the thought of his abuser, but he carefully put it aside to process later. Fizz didn’t need that right now. He needed comfort and understanding.

“He was your first, wasn’t he?” 

Fizz nodded. 

“Then of course, you’ll have some similarities. But I like when you do those things. And if I didn’t, you wouldn’t do them. Otherwise you wouldn’t be asking me about them now. That’s a very big and important difference. You’re not like the ones who hurt you just because you learned from them.”

Fizz didn’t respond so Concord went on after a moment.

“But if any of those things do make you uncomfortable, we don’t have to do them.”

“I want you to be happy.” 

“I don’t need any of that to be happy. I only need you. You never have to do anything you don’t like with me. You deserve love and respect. And you know I love it when you set boundaries so I can give it to you.” 

The last part he said a little playfully, though he certainly meant it. The arm around Concord’s shoulders tightened and the one on his horn dropped to join it.  

“How are you so perfect?”

Concord felt a pang of guilt at the question.

“I’m not. I make mistakes.”

“I’m not mad,” Fizz answered back immediately. “That you didn’t tell me.” 

“It’s okay if you are. I’d understand.”

He shook his head, fingers playing over his arm gently. 

“You didn’t do it to hurt me. You would never hurt me.”

Tears gathered in the corner of his eyes, but he blinked them back. Fizz’s forgiveness somehow hurt him. He didn’t want it to be that easy. Fizz deserved to be angry. 

“I got scared. If I said it, if I told you, it would be real. It would mean it could happen. I know that’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid, baby.”

Concord went on, words tumbling out quickly, stumbling over one another.

“I always want you to feel safe when you’re with me but I couldn’t keep you safe from this. There was nothing I could do. So I lied. It was wrong and selfish. And I want you to be mad at me. Why aren't you mad at me?”

Concord hid his face in Fizz’s chest, lip quivering. 

“You want me to pretend to be mad?” Fizz asked and Concord couldn’t tell if that was a joke or a sincere question. 

“No. Your feelings are your own.” 

“Then I’m not mad. I’m just happy to still be here with you. To hold you and love you.” Fizz pushed him back from his chest and tilted his head up to look down into his eyes. “You can’t always keep me safe. But you will always make me feel safe. You have no idea how good it feels, knowing you never want to see me hurt. And maybe that’s a low bar, but you pole vault over it everyday.”

“I know. I overdo it. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. I love that about you, Concord. I love that you care so much. I love that you exist. And I love that you’re mine.”

It felt so good to hear those words. He wrapped his arms around Fizz’s neck.

“And I love being yours,” he whispered back. “Keep me always.” 

“I will.” 

“You’ll never get tired of me?”

Fizz shook his head. 

“Even when I’m old?”

“You’ll still be mine. It’ll be even harder for you to get away by then.”

Concord laughed at the mildly ominous sound of that. 

“Good. Never let me go.”

“Never.”

Fizz wrapped him up in his good arm fully, hand resting on his hip at the end of the coiled limb. Concord closed his eyes, all the exhaustion catching up with him at last. 

“I love you,�� he muttered one last time.

Sleep took him before he could hear Fizz’s response. But he felt it in the way those coils squeezed him softly, fingers pressing into bare skin as he drifted off. Letting it all go and succumbing to the darkness felt so good in those arms.

[kasienda]

An Open Secret - Chapter Four

Alright @ladybuginettes! It’s finally finished. It’s got a ton of Adrien bonding with everyone. And I thank you for your patience. And I hope you and yours are doing well and are healthy. 

Chapter 1: A Revelation

Chapter 2: The New Normal

Chapter 3: Advice

Chapter 4: In the Rain

Ladybug and Chat Noir were out for a normal patrol. These mundane patrols had always been Adrien’s favorite part of his week. Vaulting over rooftops with no expectations to meet or city to save felt liberating. He felt so free - like he could fly. When he shot upwards with a press of his staff, for a second he felt like he was. The patrols were also time he spent with Ladybug without fearing for her life. Time where they could just hangout, or play a game of tag. But now, they were even better. Now, the barriers and secrets between them had almost faded away. And that brought a whole new level of freedom because he could be himself. Only himself, and that was enough.

The sky had been overcast, but the weather report had promised it wouldn’t rain. They were halfway across the Parisian skyline when that prediction proved completely false. And it wasn’t a light drizzle that Chat Noir could push himself through. In one moment, the air had been clear, and the next, the sky had opened and a deluge poured down around them like a waterfall. His feline ears flattened against his now soaked blond hair in displeasure. While transformed, few things were worse than rain. He cursed the blasted feline traits that had a tendency to bleed over into his very human life.

Ladybug’s laughter hit him from behind. Usually, he loved the sound, but at the moment it was entirely at his expense. He turned a grumpy frown in her direction.

“It’ll be okay, kitty,” she reassured, and then pointed at the tall building up ahead. “Over there. Follow me?” He nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Anything he had to say would probably come out as a hiss in this atrocious weather.

She leapt away, swinging on her yoyo and he was quick to follow her path. He settled down next to her with their backs pressed up against a cold stucco wall under a third story rafter. It was a good spot. They had an expansive view of the city before them, but the roof sloped slightly away so the area stayed dry. Better yet, it was secluded between two other taller buildings without windows. So hopefully, others couldn’t see them well from the street or from other windows.

“Lucky charm,” she whispered. A red and black towel fell into her hands and she offered it to him with a smile. “Tikki’s being surprisingly straightforward for once,” he commented.  

“I have found that outside of battle, the charm is usually more straightforward.” “That must be nice,” he muttered as he rubbed the towel through his hair. Cataclysm had few practical applications in his opinion, though Plagg insisted he just wasn’t being creative enough.

With the help of the towel, Chat Noir was able to get dry enough that he lost the desire to arch and bristle. He kept at it until Ladybug dropped down to one spot anyway. At that time, he handed her back the towel and closed his eyes. He felt the buzz of her transformation drop and saw the flash of pink that said her transformation was down through his eyelids. He resented the need to keep his eyes closed, but Tikki was there.

“Hello Chat Noir,” the high-pitched voice greeted. “Hi Tikki,” he said, still keeping his eyes closed. “I’m sorry you got caught in this storm, Chat Noir,” the kwami said with genuine sympathy. “Perhaps your luck has been too good lately, and as the holder of the black cat you needed some bad luck to balance things out.” “I have felt pretty lucky lately,” the part time superhero admitted. And if the cost of that was getting caught out in the rain, he would take on a hundred thunderstorms.

“I’m so glad! You deserve it as you’ve been very sweet to my chosen these past few weeks. She hasn’t been able to talk about anything else!”

“Tikki!” Marinette hissed.

Adrien laughed. It was nice to know that Plagg wasn’t the only kwami to give his chosen grief.

“I’m flattered.”

“I will give her back to you so you can open your eyes. Please tell Plagg that I say hello.” “I’m sure he’ll be delighted.”

“Not that he’ll admit it!” Tikki shot back.

Adrien smiled. It was clear that Tikki and Plagg knew each other well even though he had never actually seen them interact. The buzz along his skin told him Marinette was transforming back. “Okay, you can open your eyes again. Thank you for your patience.” “Anytime.” He opened his eyes to take in her smile.

Then she turned towards the rain. He followed her line of sight. Pounding water droplets hit the rooftops and ground with such force they bounced upwards again, softening the Parisian skyline. Even the street lamps had a glowing aura about them.

He leaned his head back on the cold rough surface of the wall behind them and let his eyes fall closed. The rain was rhythmic and soothing like a cat’s purr. He sighed in contentment. Adrien could appreciate the precipitation more when it wasn’t falling on him and when he was sitting side by side with his lady.

He opened his eyes and glanced towards Ladybug. She stared out with a small satisfied smile on her face. Flickering lights from the street were reflected on the rain drops that still sat on her cheeks. She hadn’t used the towel herself, determined to give him all the time her miraculous would allow.

She had never looked so gorgeous. And he didn’t mean physically, though she was that too. She was just a beautiful human being. One that found beauty in everything, even the rain. He tried to stamp out his line of thinking. She knew how he felt, and nothing had happened. She probably was still in love with whoever it was she had a crush on. He needed to get over her before he ruined everything between them. She glanced at him and her smile widened. He smiled back feeling completely at peace. Even if they were never together, he got to share this moment with her. No one else could have patrols or flying over the city with her. Chat Noir would always be special to her, and he was honestly happier than he had ever been in his life since they figured each other out.

This, whatever this now was, wasn’t all he wanted, but it was enough. “I love the rain,” Ladybug commented, breaking the silence. He looked at her in surprise. He hadn’t known that before. Ladybug had never mentioned it.

“I fell in love in the rain.”

Keep Reading on Ao3 Keep Reading on FF.net

Oh.

If Adrien could have curled up and disappeared into his cat suit, he would have. He had always wanted to know the mystery of the boy she had a crush on, but now, he didn’t. No doubt, he’d at least know this idiot boy. And he didn’t want any jealousy to sour his relationship with Marinette on either side of the mask.

“Tell me about it?” he asked like a masochist that couldn’t help himself.

She smiled fondly into the torrents of rain, as if she was remembering something. “Initially, I didn’t like him at all. I thought he had set up a prank trying to embarrass me. I thought he was just like another classmate I knew who had tormented me for years. I yelled at him and never gave him the chance to explain.” Who could she be talking about? That hardly narrowed down the list at all. He had witnessed firsthand that Marinette had delivered the axe down onto several of their peers when she felt they had done wrong to her or to those she loved.

“And then the next day after school, he apologized,” she continued. “Seems like the right thing to do if he tried to embarrass you.”

“See, that’s just it. He hadn’t tried to embarrass me. I just thought that he had. He had actually been trying to undo the prank that was being played on me.” She turned to him then and stared right at him.  “So, the first day I met him, he had been trying to protect me even though he didn’t know me, and I yelled at him for it.

Adrien took in every impassioned word because it was important to her, and therefore it had to be important to him no matter how painful.

“And then,” she continued, “he apologized for upsetting me, for giving me the wrong impression. I remember being struck by the complete sincerity in his eyes. I don’t think I have ever met someone so genuine before or since. “And then, before I could accept his apology, he offered me his umbrella so that I would stay dry.”

He stared at her in shock. He needed to breathe, but his lungs weren’t moving. The whole world faded from his senses.

Because he could see it too. Marinette standing in front of him, her blue eyes wide as she stared at his proffered umbrella. Paris behind her blurred with the pouring down rain. Their hands had touched for just a second. That had been a precious moment for him as well, because that was the moment he knew that they were friends.

Chat Noir looked up at that moment to see Marinette again, this time decked out in the glory of Ladybug’s suit, those same blue eyes that were currently lost in her own memory of that day. Her cheeks flushed with just the slightest pink even as they were framed with her dripping wet pigtails that were plastered to her face.  

“It was like he was trying to protect me all over again,” she confided. “Even though as far as he knew, I was still mad and didn’t believe him. Our hands touched in that moment, and after that I was totally lost. It took years before I could utter complete sentences in front of him consistently.” His eyes burned. He had too many feelings. He wanted sob at the needless self-doubt that had plagued him for so long, to cry in glee that everything had aligned so perfectly, to shout his euphoria from the rooftops.

Because she had loved him all along. That was why she had always been so nervous around him as Adrien. She was awkward because she liked him. He had always worried he was doing something wrong, but it was because he was doing something right! “A-are you okay?” she asked, her voice dripping with concern. He nodded, unable to form words around the emotion lodged in this throat. He held up a finger to ask for a minute. He needed to get a hold of himself because he was about to cry. He took a deep breath and turned back to her glassy eyes, realizing that she was going to cry too. He laughed, even as the first tear escaped. “I’m way more than okay. I’m just a little overwhelmed.” “Yeah, I can tell,” she commented, a gloved finger wiping the tear from his cheek gently. She smiled brightly at him.

And that familiar expression helped some of the heaviness dissipate, leaving only giddy lightness behind. “Tell me more,” he asked with a huge grin, wiping the last of his tears away.  

She blushed. “Honestly, there’s not a whole lot else to tell. I watched him a lot because I couldn’t manage words. I was a bit obsessive and I’ve done quite a few things I’m not proud of in the name of this crush.” “Yeah?” he prompted, a smirk blooming across his face. He honestly loved that her affections were strong enough to push Ladybug into breaking rules. “Like what?” She glanced away. He could practically feel the heat radiating from her face. “I think the w-worst thing I ever did was s-steal his phone.” He stared at her, baffled. When he said nothing, she pulled her knees up to her chest. He realized she was panicking. “Why?” he made himself ask.

“I left an embarrassing voicemail. It started with stuttering nonsense. Then I thought it was over, but apparently, Al… my best friend left it going, and I may have confessed my crush on him and called yo- I mean, him, a ridiculous pet name.” He couldn’t hold back the grin that split his face. He could picture the scene so clearly. Alya and Marinette up in Marinette’s room. Alya trying to meddle as she apparently did all the time. He wished he could hear it now, though he was glad he hadn’t heard it at the time. He wasn’t sure how he would have reacted to Marinette’s interest when he was so caught in his own feelings for Ladybug. “What was the pet name?” “H-hot stuff,” she admitted.

He smirked. He had always told her that she’d find his unmasked face irresistible. “Stop it!” she scolded, as she swatted his arm playfully. “Stop what?” “Looking so pleased with yourself!” He bit his lip, trying not to laugh. The strategy proved unsuccessful. “Chaaaat,” she whined. “What else did you do?” He asked with a grin. Now that he had no reason to fear the identity of her crush, he was completely over the moon. He had no reason to hold his curiosity at bay. He wanted to know everything. Every tiny little gift or attempt at a confession. Every embarrassing misstep if she was willing to share. Because even her mistakes were adorable, and made him love her more if that was possible.

“I have his schedule on my wall.”

“What?” he said flatly. And then grinned again. She was never going to stop surprising him. “I probably know it better than he does.” He didn’t disagree. He had no clue what his schedule was. That was what Nathalie was for. “Why?” he asked. It didn’t bother him, so much as he couldn’t fathom a reason for it. She shrugged. “It made me feel like there was a possibility of running into him during the day to tell him how I felt.” “Why didn’t you?” “For the longest time, I was so nervous around him. Completely tongue-tied. I almost always embarrassed myself horribly before I ever managed to confess any feelings. Other times, I ran away before I could horribly embarrass myself.” “I bet he thought you were cute,” he countered. She blushed. “You think so?”

“It’s what I would have thought,” he assured her, turning towards the rain again, pretending to be nonchalant. “Do you think I should go for it?” she asked. Adrien scoffed from inside his cat suit. “If he turns you down, he’s an idiot.” And he had been an idiot for long enough.

“He’s an attractive idiot,” she teased. He grinned again. “Oh? Should I be jealous?”

She smiled in smug amusement. “Super jealous! Did I tell you he’s a model?”

“Uh oh. You’d better be careful, LB. I hear models can be rather self-absorbed.” “He’s not like that!” she objected.

“He’s not?” Chat whispered, all bravado evaporating from his voice. Raw naked vulnerability took its place. “You don’t think he’s selfish at all?” Startled blue eyes flew towards his. “No, not at all,” she insisted immediately without even a second of hesitation. Adrien looked away back toward the falling rain. The falling water felt ominous and heavy again. “Maybe you don’t know him that well.” Her hand rested gently on top of his own. “I mean, I’ve watched him sacrifice himself for the benefit of others so many times. He’s put himself in harm’s way for me countless times. I think that’s pretty selfless.” “I think he just doesn’t know how to live without you,” he countered, staring up at the rafters above them.

“Chat, look at me.”

He did as she requested. I could never deny her anything.

“Wanting something for yourself doesn’t mean that you’re selfish. Being selfish is more like taking what you want without considering anyone else. He’s like the exact opposite of that. He takes everyone into account first. He doesn’t think of himself often enough. I told you, I fell in love with him because he was kind, because he always goes out of his way to protect others. He’s able to see the potential for good in others even when I struggle. He’s just that genuine.”

He stared at her, his chest was pounding so loudly his feline senses could hear it over the rain. He wanted to cry again. He had almost given her up. And so, all of this was completely unexpected - a shock to his system he was unprepared to take, though he wanted it with every fiber of his being. “Why did you wait so long to tell me this?” he asked. He had confessed to her days and days ago. When she knew that everything was reciprocated, why had she waited?

She turned away, red from her mask spreading into her cheeks. “I-I was afraid.” “Afraid of what?”

Her blue eyes stared out into the monotony of falling water. “What if something happens to him because he’s with me? I mean, if anyone ever found out he was Ladybug’s boyfriend, he’d be a target. In some ways, I think he already is one. I don’t know how I would ever forgive myself if something happened to him because of me.”

He relaxed. Like always, she was keeping secrets to protect those she loved. He never really thought he’d be lucky enough to be on that list. “It wouldn’t be your fault. I’m sure if he loves you, he’d be willing to take the risk.” She turned back to him then, her gaze suddenly piercing. “I know he is. But I still struggle with it.” “You’re still afraid.” He wished she didn’t have to be, but as long as Papillion was free, there’d always be a risk. “I don’t think I’ll ever not be,” she admitted softly.

“So, why didn’t you continue to keep your feelings a secret?” He was so glad she changed her mind on this.

“My best friend pointed out that if something happened to him and I never told him how I felt, I would regret that more. And she was right.” He almost laughed. God, he needed to buy Alya a new laptop or something. She had promised she would come through. And she had more than delivered. “Does she know?” he asked, smiling again.

“That I’m Ladybug?” she shook her head. “No. I think she was baffled by my fear, but she knows that I’ve liked this boy almost since the day we met. And she’s been pushing for me to confess for years. She pushes me and has given me a ton of opportunities, but she also has been so very patient when I didn’t take advantage.” “She sounds like a good friend.”

“The best!” she squealed. Then she sobered. “I’m kinda glad I didn’t confess before now anyway because he didn’t really see me before now. And I didn’t really see him. Now, we can really see each other.” She let her fingertips touch just the tips of his.

He forgot how to breathe for like the third time that night. “You’re right,” he finally managed. “It’s better that you’re both ready now. I hope it works out for you. I can’t imagine that it won’t.”

She turned back to him, her eyes sparkling in mischief. “What do you think we should do?”

“For what?”

“For our first date!” she squealed excitedly. “What do you think he would like?” He smiled. “Maybe you should surprise him.”

…

Nino bobbed his head in time with the baseline of the lofi remix he had been working on for days. His current version emanated from the headphones resting on his shoulders, but there was something missing from the track. Mendeliev wouldn’t let him wear the headphones over his ears in class, but he had learned that if there was a certain amount of bustle and activity, he could get away with listening to the music faintly. He glanced at the clock - there was only two minutes left of the period anyway. He and Adrien had long since finished the lab and cleared away their materials. It was awesome to have a best friend who was so good at science.

The bell rang and there was an immediate flurry of activity as students scrambled to pack up for lunch.

“Nino, I don’t know how to tell you this.”

Nino immediately swiveled towards his girlfriend’s sullen voice. “What’s wrong, babe?” She turned her phone towards him. It took him a moment to realize he was looking at the ten day forecast and then another ten seconds to figure out why that was bad. He tried to suck in his disappointment.

“The concert in the park is going to be rained out,” she added unnecessarily.

He hadn’t even considered the weather being a problem! It had been clear skies for like ten days in a row! Why did the rain have to return now, of all times? “Maybe we could exchange our tickets for something else?” she offered. “How about this one?”

“That’s no good!” he countered, glancing through his phone calendar. “That’s bro time!” he explained, as he offered a playful fistbump to Adrien’s shoulder. His friend smiled in response.

“I can always reschedule if you want,” Adrien offered.

“No way, dude! Knowing your old man and his witch of an assistant, I won’t see you outside these walls for another month if I let you reschedule!”

Adrien laughed. “Fair enough.”

Nino noticed at that moment that Marinette had already cleaned up her and Alya’s lab, and was standing in front of Adrien’s desk, writhing her hands. He grinned, offered her a wink, and started pretending that he was looking for something in his backpack. “A-Adrien, I was wondering if you wanted to go get some lunch with me?” “Of course, Mari! Does that sound good to you guys?” Adrien turned towards him and Alya, and Marinette immediately wilted.

Nino shook his head, and pointed his chin back at Marinette. “Dude! I’m sure Mari wants your first date to just be the two of you.” Green eyes went comically wide, and he whirled back to Marinette with a huge grin.

“Date?” She turned bright red, and nodded with a shy smile. Adrien’s smile extended even further, showing off all his perfect glistening white teeth. “Just tell me when and where Nette.”

“How about right now?” “Let’s go!” He offered his hand. She took it and their fingers quickly interlaced. Nino grinned at the sight. He was so happy for both of his friends. “You kids okay without us?” Adrien asked, turning back to him. “We’re chill, dude!” Nino reassured. “Go have fun! We’ll do a double date sometime later.” Alya added. Nino was shocked to see that she wasn’t filming the moment. Maybe Marinette had requested her to not make a big deal of anything.

Adrien turned back to Marinette. “So, what’re we doing?”

She looked up at him, her eyes dancing, and her free hand fiddled with the hem of her shirt. Adrien still held her other hand. It was sweet. “I-It’s a surprise!”

“Well, then lead the way!” Adrien prompted. He flashed a huge grin to Nino and Alya as he grabbed his bag and followed Marinette’s gentle tugs to get him out the door faster. “It’s still so weird to see you get nervous,” Adrien was saying. “What are you talking about?” Marinette bantered back easily. “You’ve seen me a stuttering mess a million times.” “Maybe, but I’ve also seen you…” Adrien trailed off as the door closed behind them. Nino stared at the closed door considering their two friends. Alya was right. Adrien and Marinette had become so close so fast, and they had a weird dynamic where sometimes they seemed oddly nervous and other times way too comfortable with each other.

“I still don’t really know what happened with them,” Alya commented. “Are you okay with that?” he asked, turning towards her. She shrugged. “The curiosity is literally burning inside me, but I’ll live.”

“You’re a good friend,” he told her as he pulled her against him. “And a good girlfriend I hope?” she asked with a delighted gleam in her eyes. “The absolute best girlfriend.” “Good! Because I have something for you,” she said, pulling away just slightly to retrieve a flat wrapped parcel from her bag.

He took the gift from her hands. “What’s this for?” She shrugged. “Nothing in particular. Just that I love you and this just kinda fell in my lap. And I thought you would like it. And if you don’t, well, you can give it back to me because I love it!”

He tore off the tissue paper, his curiosity piqued. He revealed the charcoaled drawing of Carapace and Rena Rouge. She was leaning in towards him, about to kiss. Carapace was grinning in anticipation with a supportive hand on her waist. The curve of Rena’s jawline, her foxtailed hair, her gloved hand laying gently on his chest, the joy in Carapace’s eyes were rendered in astounding detail.

“Wow,” was all he could think to say. He was going to have to make Alya like the most epic remixed hip hop playlist to say thank you for this.

“I commissioned Marinette actually,” Alya explained.

He grinned, his eyes taking in each carefully constructed detail. “If we ever get a place together, this is going up on a wall!”

“Moving in together?! Moving a little fast for a turtle there, aren’t you?”

Nino shrugged. “You haven’t thought about it?” he countered.

Alya’s cheeks darkened, and she glanced away.

He grinned, carefully set Marinette’s latest masterpiece on his desk, and then slowly pulled Alya to him with a hand on her waist trying to enact the portrait. Today was looking very up!

...

Plagg phased through a park bench, glanced around to be sure no one was around, and floated upward to nestle next to his other half. She currently perched quietly in the naked tree branches. They were somewhat exposed, but anyone looking from a distance would no doubt just see what they expected to see - two birds sitting on a tree branch rather than two kwamis overlooking their chosen.

The two teenagers were sitting side by side on the park’s bench eating ice cream despite the freezing temperature. Adrien tipped his tower of cream until it just briefly made contact with Marinette’s nose.

She shrieked in objection. And then promptly shoved Adrien’s Ladybug themed ice cream back into his own grinning face.

“Aren’t they sweet together?” Tikki commented with a deep sigh of contentment, her bulbous eyes sparkling in pure joy at the innocent scene below them.  

“Is that why you haven’t ratted them out to Fu?” Plagg asked. He wasn’t teasing. He needed to know where his partner stood on this. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” the kwami of creation said airily, her eyes never straying from the children below who were now lost in a fit of giggles.

Plagg snorted. “Right, and camembert is the worst kind of cheese on this planet.”

“I knew you’d see sense eventually!” Tikki squealed, “Would you like to try one of Marinette’s macaroons? They come in every flavor you could ever want and every one of them is amazing!”

He gagged.

And then whipped in front of her. “Seriously Sugarcube, you’re not going to ruin this for them, are you?”

Tikki did the kwami equivalent of a shrug. “Order is important, and rules are necessary to maintain order. But nothing is more important than love, Plagg. Plus, it’s really nice to see her get these moments of happiness. She is too young for this burden.”

Plagg relaxed, and allowed himself to settle on the branch. Tikki wouldn’t say anything. “You always say that.”

“It’s always true! Plus, they are doing a remarkable job of pretending they don’t know.”

Plagg laughed. “No, they’re not. They’re pathetically obvious. I’m shocked that blogger girl hasn’t figured it out.”

Tikki sighed. “I just mean that they haven’t explicitly said it out loud even to one another. And until they do, there is a small sliver of doubt. And I can’t ask because if I do, I give it away. So, until one of them actually says something, there’s no reason to mention it to Fu.”

Plagg grinned. Tikki had a way of rationalizing and twisting the letter of the law into her favor when the spirit of a law didn’t suit her. Plagg also suspected that if the kids did completely slip up, she still wouldn’t say anything to Fu. She was more likely to pretend she had fallen asleep and missed whatever incriminating thing had been said.

Plagg grinned again and nuzzled up against his other half. “I knew you’d come around to my way of thinking eventually! Rules are made to be broken. Maybe someday you’ll even be able to appreciate the amazingness of camembert.” “Keep dreaming, stinky sock!”

…

A/N: Thanks for taking this journey with me. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did.

Reviews/Comments/Reblogs are love!

[ofreggie]

[ aron piper, twenty two, male, he/him ] ━  did y'all see [ reginald “reggie” ponce ] walkin’ into [ fox & hare ? ] don’t think i’ve seen ‘em too much around here, they must’ve gotten here about [ two years ], but i think you can catch ‘em around town working as a [ waiter . ] I reckon they’re pretty [ vehement & adaptable ] but I hear they can also be kinda [ zany & explosive ]. best make ‘em feel welcome. ━ [ ooc: cosmo, 24, est, they/them ] [ drugs/alcohol tw / verbal abuse tw ]

inspiration.

david rose. schitt’s creek.

carl gallagher. shameless.

harry bingham. the society.

nate jacobs. euphoria.

stats.

full name. reginald “reggie” arthur ponce.

birth-place. bronx, new york.

age. twenty-two.

dob. 12/21/1996.

zodiac. capricorn.

orientation. homosexual.

spanish / english.

about.

       the son of a frostford native father and a new york mother, reggie was born into immediate chaos. his mother gave reggie her last name and refused to leave new york, the city life being made for her. she originally was born in mexico and moved to new york as a child with her family -- - a large family that reggie grew up with. his father, however, was a southern man through and through, and while up in new york for business, happened to create reginald before departing back to alabama. 

        growing up with a single mother, reggie immediately began violently acting out once he started elementary school. no one was sure if it was because of the lack of parental guidance in his life, because the young boy needed some attention, ( tw violence ) or if he was just suffering from undiagnosed mental issues. in elementary school, he was stabbing peers with pencils, throwing chairs, playing pranks on teachers, cutting off girls’ ponytails, and a whole list of other things.  ( end tw violence ) there were multiple occasions in which reggie was almost expelled from school, but pity was more powerful. eventually, however, reggie began to appreciate everything his mother did for him to excel in life and he went on to clean up his act to try and lessen his mom’s burden.

       his father would often come up to visit when he was young, but soon began to realize that reggie was nothing like the son he wanted. reggie was very animated, loved make-up, dressing up, watching soap operas with his mom, and all-around was not very physically active or into any sports. his father pushed sports on him, though, and reggie started to play baseball once he entered middle school. this was where he made most of his friends, but where he began to lose himself. reggie no longer felt comfortable wearing make-up or gossiping with his mom about cute boys, so he dove head first into sports and excelled at that too.

        he was never in the closet around his mother’s side of the family or anyone in his city at home - new york was more accepting of that - , but when he flew down to alabama to visit his dad ( which happened often once he was in his teen years ) , reggie threw on a football t-shirt or a basketball hat and became the perfect son to an athletic father. it all changed one night when reggie was at his dad’s in frostford when he was about sixteen years old. reggie was at a party, some party with kids he didn’t know in a town he wasn’t extremely familiar with, when he was hooking up with a boy in one of the spare bedrooms. he wasn’t sure what happened or how it happened, but his dad tracked his location and barged in on him in a compromising situation. ( tw verbal abuse ) he very calmly asked reggie to get into the car so the male did just that. his dad told him he was worthless, he was useless, he was a mistake -- everything under the stars a son couldn’t bear to hear -- and was immediately sent back to new york on a red eye. ( end tw verbal abuse ).

       getting back to life in new york was busy, yet amazing. he forgot about his father’s existence because it was clear that his father had forgotten about him. he stopped paying child support so reggie decided to get a job at a little boutique in order to help his mother out. he became more so withdrawn and angry after that, but still the same reggie beneath everything.

       so when his father passed away while reggie was twenty years old, he received a letter stating that he was now the owner of a beautiful apartment that his dad had left in frostford, alabama. little to nothing keeping him tied to the southern town, reginald decided he’d fly down to try and sell the place quickly. he kissed his mother goodbye, kissed his grandparents goodbye, and kissed all of his cousins goodbye, before departing for what was supposed to be a few weeks.

           two years later, reggie is still living in frostford where he now calls home. he has a few close friends, a decent job waiting tables at fox & hare, and skypes his mother on a weekly basis. he’s content with the life he has built for himself in alabama ; now all he needs is to find that love he so desperately craves.

wanted connections.

his few close friends !!!

sometimes reggie can be very strange and introverted. basically this person would have to be bubbly and help him really become more confident and happy with himself. kind of like a harold and maude relationship without the romance ( or with ) .

some familial connections, his dad’s side, prob cousins or another child that his father had and reggie didn’t know about bc he lived in ny.

apartment neighbors

a possible love interest in the form of two stumbling over their words, goofy, yet adorable messes around each other. could definitely blossom into something!

the person he slept with as a teenager that his dad caught them !!!

maybe someone that charms/annoys him on his way home from work every late night at 1/2 am. lol he’s probably super grumpy and this person has to be like.. super bubbly ?? walking their dog ?? idk.

maybe some m/m bros that are actually into each other, but they’re too good of friends to say anything to each other, etc.

i also have more located at this wanted connections tag and i love brainstorming ! angst.

head canons.

animated. very zany. loud and brash at times. 

VERY TOUCHY and affectionate to those he loves

probably has fallen in love x300.

speaks fluent spanish

would definitely storm area 51.

low-key ashamed of himself

often tipsy or high or both

isn’t exactly mean, but he’s not rly the nicest person in the world and he prob wouldn’t go out of his way to do anything decent for someone he didn’t know.

deals drugs as a side hustle

has never been in a real relationship before, but definitely has hooked u p a lot ( i mean look at him ??? ) now he just wants to be loved tbh.

he LOVES love. he believes being in love is the meaning of life and is getting depressed about never having been loved.

he’s a video gamer, a basketball lover, and a chain smoker.

could be a lovable dumbass once he’s comfortable around someone.

does lack common sense at times.

does not have any social media platforms.

leaves clean laundry on his bedroom floor for a week

prob doesn’t drink enough water

constantly wears dr. martens

will always be found with taco bell bags in his car.

[5sospank]

make it up - michael one shot

word count: 3,162

rating: NSFW

keywords: smut, au

request: “can you do a mikey smut where you guys are best friends and dating and stuff but you guys get into a fight and mikey makes it up to you?” -anon

a/n: so i had a horrible writer’s block for a few days, and this is a result of that. i still like this because i loved the idea so thank you for sending in the request :-) hope you guys like it too.

The sight before you was one that surely looked rather pathetic. Candles were lit, the lights were dimmed, dinner was cooked to perfection, the table was set articulately, and your apartment was empty for the night. All that you planned had turned out smoothly. However, there was one thing missing.

Michael, your boyfriend.

It was your anniversary. A big one, too, and he was nowhere to be found. He wouldn’t answer your calls and he was supposed to arrive home almost forty five minutes ago. You were both worried and furious, which was a deadly combination that Michael would undoubtedly receive the brunt of if he were to cross your path before you calmed down.

So there you were, sat at the dinner table, finishing up your own meal as Michael’s dish sat cold across from you. You were wallowing in your own misery, feeling sorry for yourself that you were abandoned by your own boyfriend on your anniversary. You had already consumed two glasses of wine and muted the slow music you had playing. All that was left to do was blow out the candles and head to bed.

But as you were rising to your feet and picking up your empty plate, the sound of the front door being pushed open was heard, followed by the heavy sound of Michael’s boots on the hardwood flooring. “Babe?” He called out.

You only rolled your eyes and kept your mouth shut tight.

He was approaching the dining room as you started to clear the table, blowing out a candle in one short breath as you passed by it on your way to the kitchen. You huffed dramatically as you placed your dish in the sink, running the water over it as you brooded. You were turning around when you sensed Michael’s presence, looking to see him stood in the doorway, a guilty expression swallowing up his features. “Baby, please. I can explain.”

You glared in response, shutting off the faucet and leaning against the counter. Your arms were crossed over your chest. “Explain what, Michael? That you left me home alone on the night of our first anniversary?”

He winced at your harsh tone and unforgiving words. You saw the deep circles beneath his eyes, how he was gazing at you sadly, his jaw clenched. He had been in the studio all week and you knew it was exhausting him, but your pity for him surely didn’t overshadow the pity you were feeling for yourself at the moment.

“Babe, I got caught up. We were writing today and a few new guys came in to help us out,” Michael sighed. “I got distracted. I forgot we had plans. I’m sorry.”

Your brow furrowed as you grimaced. “Good to know that your girlfriend is someone you can just forget about, Michael.”

He opened his mouth to reply but shut it once you stood upright, pushing past him as you stormed across the dining room and toward the direction of your bedroom. You thought about the deserted dinner left at the table and the candles lit, and how you were so excited to spend the night in with your boyfriend who you rarely ever saw because of his work schedule. It hurt to think that you could slip his mind when he was all that you ever thought of.

You slammed the door shut behind you as you sunk down onto the bed, the short hemline of your dress riding up around your thighs. You knew you were going to cry and ruin the makeup you had strategically applied. Apparently getting ready tonight was a waste of time.

Predictably, Michael pushed open the door a few moments later, his fingers running through his hair in distress. You watched coldly as he started to unbutton the flannel shirt had been wearing, his pale pallor exposed on his chest. He shrugged it off completely before he looked up at you, light eyes hesitant as he stepped toward the bed, crawling on top of you so that your bodies were pressed together. You were still as a statue as Michael spoke quietly, saying, “I could never just forget about you, baby. I love you so much, all right? I was stupid. It was a mistake and I got distracted and I’m so sorry.”

You could feel yourself caving. It was the way his fingertips were ghosting over the curvature of your jaw, moving back to brush your hair out of your face as he gauged your reaction to his words. You averted your eyes, staring past him and at the wall, your stubbornness making an appearance. You stayed quiet.

“Y/N, please,” Michael nearly whined. “I’m really sorry.”

Finally, you sighed. You swallowed down the lump in your throat, finally meeting his gaze. “It just made me feel stupid, you know? I cooked a nice dinner and planned out the whole night and you didn’t even show up on time.”

Michael’s hand dropped down to your arm, where he began smoothing circles over your skin, soothingly and affectionately. “I know, baby. I don’t want you to feel like that.” He murmured, full lips tugging upward at the ends involuntarily. “Let me make it up to you.”

Immediately, you scoffed, wholly unable to suppress the amused grin that was forming on your face. “How are you going to do that?”

“Shh,” Michael whispered, leaning upward slightly. “Just relax.”

You were intrigued. You watched the mischievous glint begin to glimmer in his eyes as he pushed himself up, still hovering over you as he supported his weight with his arms. His chest was bare, jeans still adorning his thin legs tightly as you watched him kneel before you. “Did I mention yet how beautiful you look tonight?”

You felt your cheeks warm as he began to grin. Your heartbeat was already increasing in pace as you stared up at Michael, feeling his palms slide over your thighs, his stare raking over your body and the dress that you had selectively chosen. He was appreciating you, and you knew what he had in mind when he offered to “make it up to you”.

Michael pushed your thighs apart, eyes darting southern as your underwear was revealed. You had put on your nicest lingerie considering it was your anniversary and it was going to be a rather romantic night, but you couldn’t deny how much you loved the look on Michael’s face as he saw what you were wearing.

“Damn, baby, I’m the stupid one,” he breathed out, lowering himself. “I could’ve came home to this a while ago.”

You only bit down on your bottom lip at the sight of his face inching closer and closer to your entrance. His hands pushed up the material of your dress so that it was bunched up around your hips, your lower half exposed as Michael’s expression told you everything he was thinking of in that moment.

Your stomach jolted as your mind darkened with similar thoughts. Your breathing was already going uneven as Michael stared up at you, thumbs hooking beneath the lace waistband of your underwear. You raised your hips so that he could pull the material down your legs, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he gulped.

“Gonna make my girl feel so good,” he mumbled as he hauled your thighs over his shoulders. “Making it up to you like this, all right?”

You blinked languidly, already desperate to feel his touch. Your mind was clouded by lust. You forgot about all the reasons why you were mad at him, only mesmerized by the way he looked between your thighs, his breaths fanning over your entrance evenly. “Just do something, Michael.” You urged.

He smirked devilishly as he pushed his hair off his forehead before he extended his hand, trailing a single digit up your slit, collecting all the moisture that had gathered there. “So wet, baby. Fuck, I’m sorry to keep you waiting.”

Your lips parted as he abruptly bowed his head, his tongue flattening against your center as he licked upward. Immediately, your hands flew out to your sides, fingers clutching the comforter until your knuckles turned white. You were overwhelmed by the sensation of his tongue on you already. His stubble was scratching against your inner thighs, rubbing against you and creating a certain friction as his lips dragged over your clit, his eyes boring up into yours all the while.

“Shit, M-Michael.” You stuttered out. You were unable to keep your eyes open any longer as he pleasured you, his hands moving up to grip your hips.

You shivered as he sucked on your clit harshly. You could feel him everywhere - the feeling of his fingers pressed against your skin forcefully, his tongue against your core, his scent completely enveloping you. He was wholly and completely right - he was definitely making this up to you.

Your hips bucked upward involuntarily as his tongue circled around your clit in teasingly slow motions. He was alternating between fast and languid movements, the stubble along his jaw and cheeks rubbing against you and increasing the pleasure. You were already sweating, but so was he.

Michael got off to the sight of you whining in euphoria. He loved to look up at you as he made you feel good, to see what reactions he was able to elicit from you. Michael was good with his mouth and he knew it. He just liked to see the proof.

Your head was thrown back as your body squirmed uncontrollably. His tongue dragged up and down your slit repetitively, your skin growing slick with a thin sheen of sweat. You wanted to scream, but you bit down on your bottom lip, your muscles tensing as Michael squeezed the abundant flesh on your waist in effort to keep you still.

You could practically feel his smirk against you as his tongue dipped into your entrance shortly. Your eyes rolled back at the new sensation, your right hand moving to twist itself in Michael’s hair, to tug on the strands as your hips thrusted forward.

He knew he was driving you crazy and he knew that you were getting close. He took advantage of your vulnerable state, dragging your lower half closer to him so that his face was practically buried between your legs, his eyes shut as he focused on bringing you over the edge. He knew exactly what made you writhe.

“Michael, I’m gonna -”

You were unable to finish your sentence as Michael sucked harshly on your clit one last time, teeth grazing over the bundle of nerves as your hips jerked unexpectedly. He continued to lick at your center as your body spasmed and your vision went blurry, hazed with spots of white as you cried out his name, the word falling from your lips effortlessly as you tugged on his hair.

He worked you through your orgasm all the while, eyes finally blinking open to watch you as you came. He liked to see the way your jaw went slack and your lips parted, how he was able to make you unravel completely just like this. You were shaking by the time he lifted his head, staring up at you with swollen lips and a crooked smirk.

“That was so fuckin’ sexy, baby girl.” Michael commented. His voice was deep and hoarse, evidence of him being turned on.

You were breathing heavily as you looked up at him with hooded eyelids, your dress still bunched up around your hips. Michael’s eyes were greedy, his hands reaching out as you sat up so that he could tug the material off of your body.

He lifted the dress up and over your head, immediately looking at your chest that was adorned in one of your more expensive bras. He licked his lips absently, then met your eyes once more, hands cupping your cheeks as he leaned in.

His kiss was rough and needy, lips moving against yours sloppily as your hands moved out to rest flat on his chest. His tongue traced over your own, tasting you and reveling in your flavor. Your breaths were mixing and he was swallowing your whimpers as your breathing increased all over again, your body reawakening.

Your hands traveled southern, moving down his warm skin, over the small trail of hair that was just below his bellybutton. Your fingers grazed over the bulge that was straining against the denim of his jeans until you began to palm him through the material, his tongue gliding along yours before he pulled away.

“Feel that, baby?” Michael mumbled, lips brushing against yours as he spoke. “Feel how hard you got me?”

You nodded, eyes boring into his as you felt his erection. You fumbled with the button of his jeans before he nudged your hands away, doing the action himself, shoving his pants down his legs until they were halfway down his thighs.

“Gonna fuck you, baby, gonna make it all up to you.” He mumbled, leaving a lingering kiss against the corner of your mouth.

And then his hands were on your body again, and he was turning you over so that you were bent  in front of him on all fours. You could feel his hands trace down your waist, savoring your skin beneath his palms as your back arched absently. His fingertips skimmed over your spine, feeling its ridges before he unclasped your bra, letting it fall from your chest

You were already hot with anticipation as you listened to the sound of the nightstand drawer opening and closing, then the noise of Michael ripping open a condom package with his teeth. He kept one hand on your hip as he positioned himself at your entrance, his deep breaths audible in the silence of the bedroom.

“Look so good like this, shit.” Michael cursed, his voice already strained.

Your mouth fell agape once he pushed in, your walls constricting around his girth as the two of you gasped consecutively. In the vanity mirror across from the bed, you could see yourself, see Michael with his grip on your waist and his lip between his teeth as he bottomed out, moving slowly and giving you a moment to adjust to his size.

“So good.” He repeated his earlier words. He pulled you back against his hips and you felt him so deep that your eyes screwed shut.

You couldn’t help but drop down so that your arms were folded down beneath you, your face pressed against the mattress and your ass in the air. Michael groaned at the sight of you like this, whimpers already escaping from behind your teeth as he pulled out and plunged back forward, his hips pressed against your ass.

Your mind was a mess of frantic thoughts as Michael thrusted forward and back at an even pace. You could only let out obscene moans, your body jerking each time his tip brushed against your g-spot. You wished you could see Michael and the way he looked when he was moving in and out of you, but you decided to focus only on the pleasure, on the tingling sensation that was felt all over.

“You like this, baby girl?” Michael gritted out suddenly.

You swallowed thickly at the sound of his raspy tone. You could tell he struggled to speak the words. He probably couldn’t even form another coherent sentence if he tried - he was too overwhelmed with the feeling of your walls clenched around his length, the sight of you bent over in front of him, eager to receive what he had to give you.

“Yeah, Mikey,” You panted out. You pushed yourself up so that you were holding your weight on your arms again, but Michael lifted you so that your backside was pressed flush against his front.

His lips were at your ear as he thrusted up into you, low grunts emitting from his throat at the new angle. His arms were fastened around your waist as he held you up against him, his breaths fanning across the skin of your neck as your head fell back to rest on the crook of his shoulder.

He sponged sporadic kisses over your skin as he struggled to move up into you, savoring your proximity and how he could practically hear your own blood pounding in your ears. Your skin was clammy against his as he sucked a hickey over your collarbone, whispering, “Fuck, I love you.”

And you had forgotten all about why you were mad at him. He distracted you completely from your anger, hypnotizing you with his crooked smirk and glossy eyes, mesmerizing you with the mere feeling of his fingertips ghosting over your arms. He had you wrapped around his finger and at the moment, you had no problem with this.

Not when you could feel him all over your body, his skin against yours, hot and sticky, his stubble brushing against your jaw as his lips moved back over to your ear, his hands gripping your stomach and keeping you upright as he thrusted up into you until your eyes were screwed shut and you were holding your breath.

“F-Fuck, Michael.” You stuttered out, your voice sounding foreign because of how detached from reality you seemed to be.

You could feel that familiar build up all over again, your toes curling and your stomach pooling with a sensation of arousal. Your brow was furrowed as you felt Michael press another kiss to the corner of your jaw. He sensed you reaching your high, your body squirming as he held you against him, wanting to feel every inch of your body because he was that entranced with it.

“Go ahead, baby. Be a good girl and cum for me.” He demanded, his tenor soft and rasped in your ear.

The sound of his dirty words was all it took to get you unraveling. You were collapsing forward, biting onto the closest pillow as your head began to spin while Michael thrusted into you relentlessly. He was groaning at the feeling of your orgasm, your walls tightening around him as the movements of his hips started to slow.

You were still clutching onto the comforter as Michael’s motions came to a near halt. He was gripping your waist so firmly, you were sure bruises were forming, but you were too exhausted to mind the pain. He was muttering your name as he emptied into the condom, and you wished so badly to see the look on his face, the deep flush that you knew would be spreading across his chest.

Soon, he collapsed down next to you, his arm twining around your figure as he pulled you close. His breathing was ragged as he looked at you with his cheeks tinted pink and his eyelids hooded. “Happy anniversary, baby.” He grinned. “I made it up to you, don’t you think?”

[cwl190]

Week 5

Benjamin Percy’s “Making the Extraordinary Ordinary”:

“Burton was enamored with the gritty nightmare of Gotham, the whiz-bang awesomeness of the Batmobile, and was carelss with characterization. So I didn’t believe... I was only a child, but after dreaming my way darkly through Gotham, the movie felt comparitively silly. Because it had no heart” (66). 

“I remember my mother crying and running upstairs when I was suspended. I remember my father ripping up my report card and hurling the pieces across the room like the saddest sort of confetti, not saying a word, just staring at me with hooded eyes” (66).

“Silence, I came to understand, was knowing when to shut up” (67).

“Saunders reinvents grief by giving it a beating heart. And he normalizes the weirdness by giving her a pitiable desire we can all relate to. Would the story be just as effective if it were told as realism? Some might say so. But fantasy allows us truths that might otherwise be unavailable. Normally a reflection means little except as a way to check our teeth, to smear on makeup, but before a warped mirror we pause, studying ourselves with awe and care, struck by a new way of seeing” (71).

“We expect winged men to be angelic, muscled and white-robed and blonde-haired and backlit by radiant light, but Garcia Marquez plays against our expectations: this figure is far from heavenly. They call him an “angel”, yes, but they also wonder if he is Norwegian or a sailor, a “castaway from some foreign ship wrecked by the storm.” And he is not exalted, as we would expect, but persecuted. He performs no miracles. He cowers pitifully. They cage him, prod him, pick his feathers, throw stones at him, burn his side with a branding iron. And in this way Garcia Marquez not only makes the fantastic accessible but captures the human tendency to fear whatever is different and the desire to label, define, control” (73).

Benjamin Percy’s “Get a Job”:

“Whether we like it or not, work defines us. Work dominates our lives. And we have an obligation, in our prose and poetry, in the interest of realism, and in the service of point of view, voice, setting, metaphor, and story, to try to incorporate credibly and richly the working lives of our characters” (140).

“Nor, tonally, should you build baroque sentences when the mind of your character is empy, his life unadorned. Her voice shouldn’t sound like white lace and gold trim when her home reeks of cheap whiskey and wood smoke” (144).

“It is a job that frames and sets into motion every element of your story or essay or poem- and it is your job to do the required research that will bring the language and tasks and schedule and perspective of your characters’ work to life. Google can do only so much for you. The library can only do so much for you. You need to write from the trenches” (145).

“Writing is an act of empathy. You are occupying and understanding a point of view that might be alien to your own- and work is often the keyhole through which you peer” (149).

Tom Perotta's "Ordinary People"

““I can’t look at everything hard enough”: The tragedy is that, while we’re alive, we don’t view our days in the knowledge that all things must pass. We don’t- we can’t- value our lives, our loved ones, with the urgent knowledge that they’ll one day be gone forever. Emily notices with despair that she and her mother barely look at one another, and she laments our self-possession, our distractedness, the million things that keep us from each other. “Oh, Mama,” she cries, “just look at me one minute as though you really saw me.... Let’s look at one another.” But mother and daughter remain self-absorbed, each in a private sea of her own thoughts, and that moment of recognition, or connection, never comes. Eventually, Emily has to return away” (130).

“Some people think of Our Town as being sentimental. Obviously, there’s a wish-fulfillment aspect here: the character who returns to the past, in a sense conquering death for a moment. But what’s unsentimental is that it’s too much, the way the experience is heartbreaking for the character. There’s a real emotional courage in the fact that there’s not a catharsis: only an unflinching acknowledgement of the gulf between the town and the cemetery. The living don’t appreciate the dead; the living don’t even appreciate the living. For me, that’s not sentimental- it’s unbelievably tough. The play presents us with a difficult truth, and forces us to take a long, hard look at it” (130-131).

Leslie Jamison's "On Commonness" 

“You remember too much, my mother said to me recently. Why hold onto all that? And I said, where can I put it down?” (158).

“I want to tell you how much it hurts, but I’m also going to tell you that there is a vioce inside of me, dogging me at every moment about tryingtoo hard to tell you how much it hurts... Carson’s mode of self-awareness doesn’t apologize for its emotion...” (158).

““I thought I would die” It’s so willfully plain. There’s something moving to me about saying it so embarrassingly straight. The following line, “This is not uncommon,” can be read so many different ways. The tone might be clinical or dismissive, as in, this is not an uncommon symptom of the disease of heartbreak. But it’s also an acknowledgement that what she’s going through is in no way extraordinary. It’s something that’s been felt before, and it’ll be felt again. Yet she owns this commonness, without apologizing for it, relinquishing it, or dismissing it” (159).

“I think there’s an additional layer of use when it comes to personal experience: You just see the events of your own life so differently after more  years have passed. That doesn’t mean that the truest version of an event is going to be the version you write when you’re eighty. But your perspective keeps changing” (162).

MAKING THE EXTRAORDINARY ORDINARY—TRUTH:

The truth that exposes itself in “The Miniature Wife” and “The Infamous Bengal Ming” is the failures in the narrator and his wife’s ability to communicate with one another and that wild animals cannot mingle with humankind. The narrator’s wife being shrunken down and the negligence of the narrator portrays how she herself has literally been minimized through the course of their relationship. The marital problems between the narrator and his wife have existed even prior to the events of the story, and now it’s presented as the main conflict of the story. Gonzales reveals that it’s not really the incident that was the problem between them, but rather the catalyst.

In “The Infamous Bengal Ming”, the truth that becomes available in this story is that humans and animals cannot cross the bridge between their nature. Whether or not this is due to a communication problem is up to our interpretation, but everything the tiger does that he thinks will aid humans is villainized and he suffers the consequences of it. In the end, it doesn’t even matter because the tiger’s idea of love becomes distorted due to his senses. He finds some type of twisted euphoria in killing a woman he despises, and because of his hunger he eats her. The tiger still calls it love even though it’s clearly not, and I think Parameswaran is trying to make apparent the futility of trying to bridge that gap between species.

FEAR: 

This observation applies to “The Miniature Wife” through the narrator’s fascination with his wife. Rather than try to find a solution to her problem, he observes her as if she is a wild animal as well as gives her a habitat for his own self-gratuitous reasons. We see that views her more as a test subject than as a person through ways such as peering at her through a microscope, prioritizing crafting a dollhouse for her to live with and not making any pursuits to undo the shrinking ray effects. Instead of handling her infidelity with communication, he fears the ramifications of anyone finding out he has two shrunken people in his house and kills his co-worker. 

In “The Infamous Bengal Ming”, this theme is present all throughout the story. The tiger approaches humans with good will, but almost everyone recoils away in fear and is killed from the tiger’s advances (understandably). The tiger's position as an apex predator puts him at the forefront of their defensiveness and rather than embrace him, they seek to restrain and control him based on their preconceived notion of tigers being a threat. Fear moves along the plot. The tiger runs away in fear of the consequences for killing the zookeeper, leading him to the house where the woman and her child live in, and because the woman is terrified of the tiger's presence in the room she drops the baby, causing the tiger to catch it with his jaw and eventually kill it. It leads the reader to wonder, what would have happened if the people in this story were not as terrified as the tiger as they were? Would that have changed the way the story spiraled out of control, or would the tiger have given into his animalistic instincts earlier?

CONNECT THE DOTS—GET A JOB AND GONZALES: 

The narrator’s world revolves around his job. The way he handles the situation, his relationship with his wife prior to shrinking her and how it ends is all because his job is his life. Due to the way he got caught up in his work, he was never a very attentive husband and always left his dishes in the sink and didn’t clean up even after his wife reprimanded him several times. Because of his constant pursuit of knowledge, instead of doing the reasonable thing and trying to grow his wife, he instead observes her as if she was an experiment rather than his partner. Because of the narrator’s occupation, he has been portrayed as a very cold, obsessive, and negligent man, or maybe that was the kind of person he was to be suited to the job to begin with.

ON COMMONNESS: 

I think it’s a matter of the ego? The author summarized why the describing the full scope of your genuine feelings can be seen as something to rag on at pretty well. Adding “This is not uncommon” is a self-aware statement that tells you they’re aware it’s not that big of a deal. I really liked the examination of this concept because being sincere is a scary thing to do when you write, or even in your everyday life. Your works are somehow a bit of an extension of yourself, and by shoving that into the forefront of everyone’s judgement you are exposing your expressed thoughts and feelings. You don’t want to be completely genuine because you’re usually not. There’s not much I can add onto that because I think the essay put feelings into words that I wasn’t able to do myself. 

ONE THING: 

The fake grandmas was something that I felt was done in a way that could really make us suspend our belief. When they mentioned how when visits from kids became more of a chore than something they enjoyed was the correct time to kill the grandparents off, it made so much sense to me. That was such a calculated strategy on their part because most children’s memories change with the passage of time. They won’t remember every feature on their grandparent’s face, so using their naivety to the business’s advantage works perfectly in the context of the story to me. 

Also, the way the stand-ins are required to memorize the entire family tree as well as their parent’s vacations, photoshopping photos to put them in it. It all seems like a huge elaborate gaslighting project. The moment the grandparent is killed off is the moment when the person they’re tricking decides it of their own accord without even realizing it. It made me realize the inevitability of family relationships eventually growing apart. A lot of people aren’t close to their grandparents at all so it was pretty easy for me to accept that them eventually being phased out of their grandchildren’s life is pretty believable.

WILSON: 

The narrator’s way of seeing the world definitely bends around her work. Her ability to disconnect from relationships at her job translates into her everyday life, where we see that she doesn’t bother with building her own attachments. She isn’t married, doesn’t have any kids and she refuses to enter committed relationships with other men. Whether or not this is due to the nature of her job or because of her past we don’t know, but we can glean that someone who treats familial relationships as a transaction isn’t very authentic or sentimental.

We especially see this when the narrator converses with her co-workers, who all seem to have a bitter, snarky approach to their jobs. They make death into a lighthearted subject manner or something with a double meaning. When Martha says “I was so good, fams were going to keep me until I outlived all of them. They were going to be leaving me money in their wills” (14) and the narrator reminds her that they all have due dates at one point. it’s not really just about the completion of their agreement as a stand-in. It can serve as a foreshadowing to when being a stand-in truly takes a toll and the narrator is no longer competent to their job.

ORDINARY PEOPLE: 

Perrotta’s ideas of ordinary details come in the form of people’s mannerisms: The breakfast they eat in the morning, how someone might put up their hair, etc. The “Grand Stand-in” makes all of those ordinary details into it’s own concept. It’s the grandparent’s job to embody those details and form themselves into a believable person. The narrator is transfixed on the lullaby because she feels the need to prove herself as a professional. Every part of their job is calculated, all those little details that make up their identity is the bizarreness of being a stand-in. The ordinary things about these grandparents are what makes them fascinating because it’s not them at all. 

CONNECT THE DOTS: 

The “Grand Stand-in” follows Boyle’s advice in “How Stories Say Goodbye” and has a closure where we are more or less satisfied with the ending. The narrator goes through an epiphany where she realizes that she doesn’t want to continue with her job due to wanting something real. The loss she experiences by cutting herself off from all the families is a hallmark of these change because although all the families she involved herself in was nothing but a fabricated lie, quitting unexpectedly gave her “deaths” meaning. She states herself that the sadness she feels is more rewarding and genuine.