#I'm sorry for being more detailed in some

[idrawtooslow]

I've expanded the instructions I gave for apologizing into a detailed listicle. I hope it'll be helpful. Some of the points, however, are very specific to the English language.

1. Don't explain what happened, it will sound like you're justifying your actions. And because of the way our brains work, you're likely to actually start justifying your actions. At that point, you're no longer apologizing. Remind yourself that the apology needs to have priority right now, and that there will be time later to identify causes and solutions.

2. Be specific, or at least use more words than "I'm sorry." "Sorry" is used so often as a polite noise, nearly meaningless, that it's difficult to be sincere, or even sound sincere when using it for a formal apology. Again, this ties into what @theconcealedweapon wrote: we're trained to say "sorry" when we don't mean it, so that becomes the core of the word's meaning, without our even realizing it. And if you're Australian, it gets even worse!

Personally, I use "I apologize" or "My apologies," or in dire circumstances, "Please accept my apology." This allows me to break my conditioning and focus on my genuine contrition, as well as making it clear to others that I'm taking the apology seriously.

3. Apologize for what you did, and absolutely NOT how it made someone feel. The latter is often used for manipulation.

Other things not to apologize for:

that the consequences of your actions happened

what you don't like about the person or group you're apologizing to

being right

being better than the people you're apologizing to

allegedly not having any idea what you're supposed to be apologizing for

...you'd think all this would go without saying, but it can be subtler than you might expect, and sometimes we do it without thinking, because we picked it up as children, from the nastier adults around us.

Instead, take a moment to focus on what you did, and how to describe it clearly in a way that accepts your fault and/or responsibility for the situation. Again, don't bring anything else into the apology, lest you make it seem less of an apology. People are so used to hearing the above crap from unrepentant people, that they will not give you the benefit of the doubt.

4. Watch your tone of voice. This is actually two separate points.

First, yet another thing we unconsciously pick up as children is the obviously sarcastic mock apology. It's not always a bad thing, it can be a joke or a verbal gesture, but you have to make sure you don't let that habit find its way into a genuine apology, and ruin it. This is where the bit about "Say it like you mean it" comes from. The easiest way to say it like you mean it is to mean it. See next paragraph.

Second, if you can't be respectful and express regret, you shouldn't be apologizing just yet. You're not ready. Leave the art of convincingly faking an apology to the con artists and cult leaders. You will probably need to just keep your mouth shut for a while. Acknowledge (to yourself) the possibility that you might change your mind later. In some rare cases, it may be possible to tell people, "I'm not ready to apologize just yet," but don't count on it.

5. (optional) If necessary and you can do it honestly, either characterize what you did, or agree with others' characterization of it, or promise to/ask how to not do it again, or multiple of the above. Say that it was wrong or inappropriate or a failure or whatever. Name people who called you out, say they were right, and repeat what they said about what you're apologizing for. If you promise not to do it again, don't pivot to talking about how great you will be in the future, keep it focused on the apology.

This might be a bit too much for less dire apologies, and you may not be able to manage this if you apologize the minute you can bring yourself to be sincere, but otherwise, you can build yourself some credibility by immediately seeking to improve yourself and make sure that YOU never do whatever-it-was again. It's more for privately apologizing to your direct supervisor, or to a friend.

On the other hand, beware of doing this if you're the authority figure, or are apologizing to a large group, because politicians routinely pivot away from making actual apologies by making big promises for the future. People are wise to this, though, and your whole apology is liable to be dismissed as bullshit if you try to use it for self-promotion.

So many people seem completely unaware of what a genuine apology is.

And that's because children are forced to say sorry on command.

Before they ever had a chance to process what they did, why they did it, what effect it had on others, or what they should have done instead, they're expected to say that they're sorry. And they're expected to "say it like you mean it" with no indication of what that even means and with no time to figure out how to phrase it correctly.

Sometimes, even when the child's actions are justified by any logical reasoning, they're expected to apologize because an authority figure demands it.

The goal of saying sorry ends up being solely to avoid punishment. And they phrase the apology in whatever way the authority figure will accept.

The result is an entire society filled with people who give completely useless apologies that appear like they're only trying to avoid punishment.

[pupyuj]

hi ena! long time no ask!!

with the recent miumiu wonyoung photos GOSHH MY MIND IS SPINNINGGF WITH THOUGHTSS😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

dubcon!!

what if…princess jang who comes from a wealthy noble family purchases you to be her pretty slave😁 the thing is you weren’t even being sold as one despite your family leaning towards the poorer class😱turns out she randomly spotted you at a market and ordered her people to do anything and everything just to have you in the palm of her hands! crazy!!!!! one day you were just taken away from your family! GOSH imagine the princess wonyoung herself carrying you to her room and gently laying you down on her bed🥺but, being the brat that you are you scratched and clawed at her, trying to resist her advances bc u were so so scared and confused :(( eventually, the remaining patience she had for you snaps and she just fucks you hard to remind you of your place!!!! u were nothing but her stupid little slut to use whenever she wanted :(

(she starts off really gentle with you but fucks you rough and hard for being so rude and disobedient to he princess☹️)

omg yk that video of her sliding off her gloves to sign for a fan?? IMAGINE IF SHE DOES THAT BEFORE FINGERING YOU UNTIL URE IN TEARS BEGGING HER TO STOPPP UGHH😫😩😩

- 🍒

MY FAVORITE CHERRY ANON!! i know, i know this ask took me forever to do again but we're all probably used to it to it to the point where i don't even have to address it 😭 since the photos are now not-so-recent, i'll attach them here so everybody can visualize it well hehehe 🤭

(@ CHERRY ANON IK YOU'RE WONDERING IF I AM ALSO WORKING ON THAT OTHER WONY ASK THAT YOU SENT AND I'M GONNA BE HONEST I THINK I DELETED IT?? which sucks bcs i was JUST thinking of answering it too just now until i realized it was nowhere to be found so IF UR STILL UP FOR IT AND IF YOU REMEMBER THE GIST, FEEL FREE TO SEND IT AGAIN! pretty sure it was about sororities?? 🤔)

p.s. you guys are crazy if you think i'm not gonna give this ask some meat (aka mini lore) so if this happens to be a long one that's why! 😭😭

[cw: extreme dubcon, (eventually) cnc, coercion, bondage, mild violence, obsessive-possessive princess!wony WOOO.]

you were happy as a commoner, okay!? even though your fate was sealed as a middle-class man's stay-at-home wife and child bearer in the future, you were going to make the most of your life despite it all! but that was before you encountered her highness jang wonyoung while you were out to shop for new formal robes. oh, sorry, you didn't 'encounter' her—she saw you animatedly chatting with the nice young clerk at the apparel shop and became obsessed fell in love at first sight 😍😍

your whole life took a whole other turn when a couple knights knocked on your door and took you from your family by force and with only a brief answer when asked: "her highness wills it so." 🥲 your family was then visited by the princess' retainer to give them a more detailed explanation of the whole situation but you didn't know that. you didn't have to. what only mattered from then on was whatever the fuck wonyoung wanted with you... and it was everything you anticipated it to be! almost.

nobles were all the same, after all. and the worst among them was the royalty. you half expected to have been stripped down in the carriage by the knights and dragged throughout the castle naked and bare before they throw you inside the princess' quarters where she would be more than ready to just... ravage you, but that didn't turn out to be true. not all the way! you made it to the doors of the castle with your clothes still on you and you weren't just haphazardly thrown inside the princess' room... the knights were given special instructions to treat you like glass! or else the princess would have their heads if they so much as scratched your beautiful, delicate skin.

wonyoung herself met you at the doors of the great hall, actually! she couldn’t contain her excitement because finally, she found someone that she knew was going to satisfy all her needs and make the perfect wife! never mind that you were some lowly commoner, you were beyond perfect in the princess’ eyes!

“do you know me… (y/n)?” you don’t even want to know how she just knew your name. you were confused, terrified, and furious all at the same time and wonyoung loved it. anybody else would have been scrambling to kiss her feet and beg for forgiveness even though they knew they did nothing wrong… but of course you’d be different. wonyoung was so happy.

nevertheless, you plucked up whatever courage you had left in yourself and answered her question, “the crown princess… jang wonyoung.” even the way you said her name was impeccable! ah, how wonyoung couldn’t wait to make you hers completely… and that’s exactly what she attempts to do once she took you to her room but of course, you fought back! 🥺

kicking and hitting wonyoung whenever she tried to get close to you on the bed, even shrieking and screaming for help just in case there was a servant who felt sorry enough to interrupt but who in their right mind would dare get in the way of the princess? 🤨 it was when you scratched her chin that she finally had enough of your shit and straight-up whacked you across the face... her highness has never had to use violence to gain control and advantage but goodness you really pushed all the wrong buttons!!

somehow it wasn't the painful sting on your cheek that made you settle down... bcs if you weren't directly staring at the small, bleeding cuts you've made on wonyoung's chin, you would've made an even bigger fuss when she roughly undressed you! sure, you feared the consequences of literally hurting the princess wonyoung but... she was still a beautiful woman!! what you did was like the equivalent of defacing a famed painter's greatest work—you definitely deserve whatever punishment was waiting for you 🫢🫢

wony won’t take your resistance seriously once she’s seen how drenched you are for her! she only takes that as a sign that she was welcome.. and that you did, in fact, want this! 🤭 she assumed that you can take her at whatever pace she decides to go with bcs you were a commoner that was gorgeous and deliciously naïve… surely you’ve been passed around before right?? but no… you were a virgin :(( but you were taking wonyoung’s fingers so well… meeting her thrusts halfway as if you’ve always known how to do it like that… moaning “your highness” so nicely against her ear that it gave her goosebumps… so ofc wony ignores your tears and your pleas to stop when you’ve already cum many times 🫠

but ah you were really testing her!! wony was bound to get some bruises with the way you’ve kicked and hit her so much… so she ties your hands up above your head and your legs spread apart with either ankle tied down at the edge of the bed! this way it would be much, much easier to punish you 🤭 she’s definitely relentless when using her mouth… esp since she just got a taste of her new food and oh, were you delectable…!

wonyoung couldn’t get enough… using her tongue on you over and over again throughout the night whilst talking to you about how perfect your life was going to be now that you were with her… and she very much liked how you didn’t even fight her words anymore! she knew that even though you cried gallons of tears and made your voice hoarse from wailing and moaning you wouldn’t dare look back on your past life anymore! 🤭

since then your daily activities as the crown princess’ future consort was to look pretty, study in both academics and noble etiquette, and most importantly, tending to wonyoung’s… needs 🫠🫠 you knew that every servant, knight, and nobles that frequented the castle talked badly about you. how a peasant managed to captivate the princess’ heart with ease. their words cut through you pretty badly but wonyoung was always there every night to mend your wounds… always.

you didn’t even care that wonyoung fucked you too hard anymore! bcs she has somehow led you to believe that she was the only one in this world that loved you and can stand to love someone like you 🫣 and you only believed her bcs you did feel her love with every thrust of her fingers, every disgusting thing that she whispers in your ears while she fucked you, every flick of her tongue as she ate you out, every bite on your lips when she kisses you. you were only right to love her back in spite of everything else bcs… like wonyoung always assured, this is what true love is, right?? 🤭

[cuteandhughesy]

auston matthews -

“you’re such a loser”.

“you’re so pretty it pains me” (said to him).

“keep still you little… troll”.

please & thank you. love your work. :)

Drunk In Love | Auston Matthews

summary: your boyfriend has to pick you up from a bar—only to find that you’re sloshed and feeling playful. prompt no. 15: “you’re so pretty it pains me” + prompt no. 28: “keep still you little…troll.”

[word count] 2.1k

warnings: drinking | drunk behaviour | suggestive dialogue

a/n: how is this my first auston work…this man was the reason I started watching hockey in 2016! i’m back to my roots with this one! also this ain’t super detailed because I don’t have the brain capacity for that 😛

🎵 drunk in love by beyoncé & jay-z

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

auston is immediately bombarded when he steps into the club. not only by the overwhelming smell of hard liquor and various sweet floral perfumes, but by jennifer—your red head bubbly best friend who's celebrating her 27th birthday.

he blinks in surprise as jennifer steps in front of him, freckles still visible even under the flashing lights. "i'm sorry," she hisses, looking over her shoulder at what auston can only presume is you, "but she's sloshed." and that confirms his suspicions.

about 20 minutes ago, he answered jennifer's call. he was expecting the worse—you've always been a naturally clumsy person when drinking, and anytime you go out partying with your friends, you're coming home with more scrapes and bruises than you can count. all jennifer really told auston was that you needed a ride home asap, being very vague about the entire situation.

auston put two and two together pretty quickly.

"it's alright," he says, eyes squinting through the dark atmosphere in search of you and the sparkly red top you left the condo in. you're easy to spot, only because you're standing on top of the bar like you're in some cheesy rom com movie, laughing loudly and dancing while everyone cheers you on.

jennifer smiles awkwardly, green eyes darting between you and your less than amused looking boyfriend. auston curses, moving through the sea of bodies until he's at the crowded bar. he gently wraps his hand around you thigh, not hard, but still firm enough to grab your attention.

you look down, and immediately you're beaming at the sight of him. "austonnnnnn," you slur his name loudly, reaching down to steady yourself on his shoulders as he helps you off the table top. as soon as your heels are back on soild ground, you're jumping into auston’s arms—not without almost missing him and falling to the floor if it wasn't for auston's reflexes.

"woah, slow down," he warns lightly, large hands a warm and steady presence on your hips as he steadies you. "hi baby." auston grins slightly, eyes barley visible under the rim of his ball cap. a hiding feature he chose on purpose—auston wasn't really in the mood to wake up tomorrow morning and read a bunch of news tabloids about him picking up his hammered girlfriend at a local toronto club.

"hi." you grin, blinking slowly. auston can feel your heat through hour top-your skin hot to the touch, the affect off one too many shots. the hair you'd previously slicked back into a pony tail is now frizzy and down—eyes glassy and not all there.

auston snickers, already moving you away from the table and back to the direction of the entrance. "are you drunk?" he teases knowingly.

"pssshhh...no!" you decline loudly, shaking your head—but the way you misstep tells a whole different story. you don't even notice that though, too busy looking at your boyfriend with an imaginary lightbulb flickering above your head, "have you come to take a shot with me?" you ask, your excitement obvious.

auston hums, "no, i'm here to bring you home."

"but im not ready to go home," you pout.

"I know, but you can come out next weekend."

his words seem to do the trick, because your face relaxes and your lips form into a lazy grin. "oh yeah," you say matter of factly like it was you who came up with the idea.

"do you have your bag?" auston asks before the both of you can step outside, "where's your phone?"

your small chain bag is slung over your shoulder—which, thank god, because auston did not want to have to search for it in the women's bathroom or under the sticky tables. "my phones under my boob," you say.

he reaches out, fingers sliding under your boob to make sure it is in fact in your top.

it makes you giggle, arching into his touch, completely oblivious. "trying to cop a feel?," you slur, way too loudly for a public space. "you freak."

auston can't help the breathy laugh that leaves him, pulling off your body once he has confirmation that your phone is sitting between your ribs and left boob. "just making sure you've got everything," he corrects your insinuation lightly, wrapping his hand back around your hips. "okay, let's go."

the cold air is a shock after spending time inside the overpacked and overheated club. you instinctively curl into his side, seeking some warmth—no matter how drunk you are, you'll always find a way to get chilled.

as soon as his car is in your line of sight, you gasp, mumbling something incoherent before attempting to run towards the vehicle. you obviously don't get far, not with auston's arm holding you upright, but that doesn't stop you from stumbling on uneven sidewalk—almost sending you to your knees.

it has you giggling but also somehow gasping dramatically all at the same time.

"careful." auston chimes firmly, digging in his back pocket for his keys to unlock the car.

"woah that was scary," you snort, looking up at him with those glassed over eyes he loves. "did you almost trip too?" you ask, dead serious.

auston opens the passenger door, "almost."

"that wouldn't of been good," you slur.

"no, it wouldn't of been." he agrees easily, guiding you into the vehicle, "okay, left foot first babe."

but you're not going that easily. you turn to your boyfriend again, face flashing in fucking betrayal like he just asked you to root for the bruins. "you haven't even kissed me yet," you whine, feet planted on the concrete while your butt connects with the car seat.

he sighs, "let's get in the car first."

"please?" you slur, leaning forward dangerously. auston grips your biceps before you can face plant to the ground, but you're completely oblivious, continuing to beg in a mixture of babbling and slurring, "you're so pretty it pains me! and I need a kiss to make me feel better."

auston takes a deep breath, staring down at you for a beat—seeing if you'll give up. but you don't, continuing to look up at him like he hung the moon and the stars, lips slightly pouted and stained as you wait rather patiently. he sighs again before leaning down and giving you a quick peck.

you beam when be pulls away, bringing your left foot into the car. "you love me," you hum dreamily.

"yeah I do," auston smiles, guiding your right leg inside the car before he leans over your body, clicking the seat belt into place.

you kiss the side of his face sloppily as he makes sure you're buckled, "I love you too."

the 15 minute drive back to your and auston's shared condo is filled with the sound of your voice, singing along to random radio songs in an impromptu karaoke session. anytime you look over at auston and see that he's not singing, you squawk loudly, poking his cheek persistently until he joins in.

thankfully you don't give him too much trouble getting back out of the car, or on the elevator ride up to your floor—the most you do is stumble and talk too loudly, but auston finds it rather funny. you resemble a baby deer, and when he tells you that, you start tearing up about how cute baby animals are.

felix, your shared dog, eyes you both grumpily from his spot on the couch as you pass, clearly upset at be woken up.

auston guides you into the bedroom, helping you kick your heels off while you continue crying, now specifically praising baby horses and their tiny little horse shoes.

he grabs your oversized pyjama shirt, which is actually one of his old men's league shirts that you'd stolen years ago when you first met. auston turns back to you, placing the shirt beside you on the bed. "okay," he starts, "arms up baby."

"why?"

"because you need to get changed," auston says.

you whine, muttering something about feeling tired. regardless you lift your arms, limbs all floppy and heavy as auston attempts taking your sparkly top off.

you wiggle and squirm, laughing as auston's calloused fingers graze against the side of your ribs. your movement makes him sigh, teetering on impatient. "stay still you little...troll."

that gets you to stop moving. "hey! that's mean." you pout incredulously.

"it's not," auston answers easily, pulling your shirt fully off. now free, your phone falls to your lap with a plop. "trolls are cute"

you arms drop to your sides quickly, "no they're not."

"shhh," he teases, pulling off your skirt and tights in one quick and efficient move. "you'll hurt their feelings."

"my boobs are out," you say after a beat.

auston snickers, pushing your head through the stretched neck hole of his old shirt. yeah, they are," he hums, moving to your arm and bending it at the elbow, “hey, put your arms through the holes."

"nooooo," you whine, falling forward to auston’s chest and wrapping your sticky arms loosely around his neck. "I wanna give you a kiss." you mumble, already in the middle of covering his scruff covered jawline in tequila scented kisses. one of your hands sneaks down his body, and before he can even blink, your grabbing his dick.

"jesus baby," his breathe hitches, pulling your hand off his length and putting it back in your lap.

you giggle, "you like that?"

auston shakes his head, putting your arms through the shirt holes before you can grab his dick again. "not tonight, you need to go to sleep."

your face falls. "you don't want me?"

"not when you're drunk."

you scoff, tears pricking your waterline as auston fully pulls the shirt down over your naked body. "you hate me." you state dramatically, arms crossing over your chest.

"not at all," he reassures you softly.

"but you don't want me."

"you're drunk." auston reiterates, which only makes you hum. he can't help the smile that pulls on his face, shaking his head in disbelief at your slurred words and usual drunk shenanigans. "okay baby, let's get you in bed."

the next two minutes are silent as your boyfriend helps you slip under the covers. you sigh happily as the cool sheets envelop around your limbs, head sinking into the fluffy pillow like you're lying on a cloud. auston leaves your lamp on, putting your phone on the beside table—making sure it's plugged in for the morning—before he turns to leave.

but just as his hand touches the door knob, you're whining. "austonnnnnn."

"yes?" he asks, brow quirked.

you make grabby hands at him like a toddler. "come lay with me."

"i'm going to," auston says, "I just gotta take felix out first."

the mention of your dog has you sitting straight up, once again wide awake. auston can't help the way he sighs, falling back against your bedroom door in what feels like defeat.

"can I come?" you ask him, voice full of hope and joy at the thought of running your hands through felix's soft and curly coat. you’ve never wanted to cuddle him more than this very moment.

auston shakes his head gently, "no."

"whyyy?" you whine, lips pouting for the hundredth time tonight. "I love him so much." you admit, voice thickening with emotion as you blink at your boyfriend through the warmly lit bedroom.

he walks back towards you, softly pushing your hair off your face. "I know you do," auston mumbles, thumb stroking your brow bone. "but you're not wearing pants and it's cold outside."

you frown deepens, a single shiny tear falling from your eye and tracing down the round of your cheek. "but," you pause, sniffling gently, "felix will think I don't love him if I don't come."

auston shakes his head, "that's not true." but you only cry more, shrinking in on yourself as sobs wrack through your body. auston coos, pressing a firm kiss to your forehead and then another to your cheek.

even drunk, you don't play about your love for felix.

"how about when I get back I bring him in here for the night?" auston proposes sweetly.

your head lifts, and the sight of your watery eyes have auston pouting. "really?"

"yeah."

and he fully intends on keeping his promise, but 30 minutes later—once the dog has done his business and trotted around the condos front grass—auston opens the bedroom door, only to find you sound asleep.

[miss-tarja]

Like a Fine Wine

Younger! Miguel O'Hara x Sugar Mommy! Reader

WARNINGS: Transactional relationship at the begining, smut, protected p in v, fluff, emotional distress, no strings attached to catching feelings type of thing. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

A/N: This is @tatatida raffle event prize <3. Got her permission to post it. Hope you guys like it as mucha as I did writing it :D. So fun to write again!

If there was one thing you hated more than wires in your bra, poking out and digging into your skin was precisely this. Social gatherings with loud music after a long day, that somehow were a must to keep up the appearances within your collaborators and clients.

And the cherry on top besides this, were two little details that had ruined your overall mood and will to believe in such a thing the soon-to-be wedded couple favored.

To starters, the man whom you thought would be that exact same guy with a goofy and moonstruck smile, kneeling before the woman as he proposed to her, not only broke up with you a week ago, right before this party, but also broke the three month engagement you had agreed and partook in, and the urge to make an engagement party after a couple of years dating. 

He cut all ties with your persona and everything that rendered your existence and what you had to offer. And the second bitter cherry, you were selected to make the brides dream come true by not only designing her wedding dress, but her bridesmaids too. 

Oh, how much fun you've been having by designing your own wedding dress. A design that somehow ended up in the bride's main picks. For once you hated your job and everything that came with it. Happy and excited faces, I do's here and there whenever the brides were grateful and went beyond to invite a top tier Haute Couture and lingerie designer like yourself to the ceremony. 

The excitement you'd never get... 

A defeated sigh escaped your lips for the umpteenth time and absentmindedly snatched your third champagne cup from a nearby waiter. Marriage was overrated anyway and the stress had been nicking enough of your nerves. You needed out. 

The mellow, sickly sweet and romantic music had been a bit too much for your ears, same for the laughs and fun and frankly, you hadn't left because the bride wanted some adjustments in her request, but you didn't have the heart to be a wet blanket over her happiness and pollute her joy with your own heartbreak and mood swings. So you waited, and waited and-

"Should I call you a cab?" The waiter's voice snapped you out of your thoughts. Rich, deep and oh so exquisite that sent a jolt directly to your spine the emotional discomfort brewing in. 

Oh boy... 

The man before you, clad in white and black was everything but that. A boy, as you usually saw younger men. The white button chemise made a wondrous job in containing his well worked arms that moved effectively while delivering drinks and his chest, puffing with the constant beating of his heartbeats and breathings. Your eyes couldn't help but wander from his gorgeous and cryptic, stoic face, to the narrow and perfectly sculpted waist. 

My goodness...

"... Ma'am?" He chuckled a tad uncomfortable yet used to the looks his appearances provoked. Your eyes casted away, embarrassed for being not so discreet in your ogling. 

"Uh...  no. Sorry. I'm waiting for the bride to finish some stuff. Could you be so kind to fetch me a rose soda, please?" 

"Of course. Anything else?" 

"Just that for the meantime, thank you." 

His red eyes blinked slowly, absorbing your order as he retired your nearly empty champagne cup from the table. 

"I'll be right back." The handsome man spoke and you just nodded with a brief smile before he scrammed off to the drink station not too far away from your spot.

"Seems you caught her eye." One of his coworkers, Harry, spoke with a smile that hinted at nothing but trouble , pointing discreetly your way. 

"Doubt it. She was getting drunk, looking lonely and a bit miserable, probably not having a good time." He huffed, preparing the golden rimmed and fancy glass with ice. 

"C'mon, Migs. I know it's bad to just jump into women like vultures when they're going through vulnerable stuff, but hey, think of it this way." Harry hugged his neck, pulling him closer, "You'll give her a good time to forget whatever thing has gotten her like that." Miguel rolled his eyes. Of course Harry wouldn't pass the opportunity to jump in whatever chance that got him laid. "And, just look at her!" 

Harry nearly groaned after stealing another glance your way. 

"Harry..." Miguel warned, already knowing where the conversation was leading to. 

"C'mon, man. She was staring at you like she would eat you in the spot! Wished women looked at me like that."

"They would, if you weren't a creep about it. Are you even hearing yourself?" His bushy brow quivered and his eyes rolled. "Just get me a rose soda."

"I'm not a creep, O'Hara. And that shit's disgusting, don't know why, it's so freaking sweet and awful but rich people drink it like no tomorrow. But!" He pushed Miguel with his elbow softly, "That only means she must be stacked up in money too." He mumbled while handing him a golden and pink can along a straw. 

"Of course she is. From what I gathered, she's a famous designer, doing the dresses." He shrugged nonchalantly as he poured the sweet smelling concoction in the glass. 

"Then even better! Go for it! Bet you 20$ she's single. And 50$ of my tips you're ending up in her bed tonight." 

"Hilarious you think you'd get tips from these people." He plated up, and returned to you. Or at least, tried since you were nowhere to be seen. He swore you were there some moments ago. 

Until he spotted you talking with the bride, taking notes and sketching so fast in a pad he was genuinely amused for a second at how easy the skills came in your hand. You also took some measurements off the bride and the bridesmaids. It didn't take no longer than fifteen minutes in total to gather what you needed or he supposed. 

He returned again, to finally find you alone in another table, he carried a freshly served drink as the previous one had lost the gas and flavor. You were skimming through your sketch pad, biting your lip as you redrawn over and over the veil's fall.

"Ma'am?" He called and your eyes met his. Lighting up with delight at what he had on the tray.

"Oh, right!. Thank you very much... Uh..." Your brow quirked and Miguel cleared his throat. 

"Miguel. Miguel O'Hara." His lips curved a chip awkwardly as he placed the soda on a cover away from your working tools. 

"Right." Naturally you gave him your name and took a long sip of soda. The sugar in it earned an approving hum from you, Miguel's eyes wandered discreetly over your shiny lips as you licked them. "Hope you don't mind me asking, but how old are you, Miguel?" 

The sudden question threw him off, specially when you had asked so out of the blue with such confidence he only allowed his closed ones. The hunt was on and he was the perfect subject to bring home and hang on your wall. Or rather bed. 

"Pardon?" He blinked, genuinely confused as to why would you ask that as he held his tray in an attempt to hide the fidgeting of his hands. He was the one supposedly doing the flirting, not backwards. That is, if you were actually flirting. It had been a long while since he gave into something casual. One night stands weren't something he indulged often, except when his body screamed for release in something else that wasn't his pumping and squeezing hand. 

Bills and temporary jobs kept him busy like that. 

"I asked your age." Your head turned to face him again, and for once, he frowned. Earning you a small giggle. "Relax, sweetheart. Twenty somethings aren't that much of a favorite of mines."

"Then, guess I'm out of your league." 

You chuckled and sipped your soda, not daring to tear your gaze from him. 

"Older than twenty five?" 

He shrugged, quietly admitting a bit of himself, exposed but genuinely amused at your sudden move.

"Ah, I see. We could do an exception." You gestured for him to seat. And he shook his head. 

"Can't do, I'm still on my shift, I'm afraid." 

"All responsibility is on me if something happens. Please. Sit." You gestured and he sat across you, hesitant as you drank another sip, to sweeten your mouth and lace up the words coming off it. "You see, it's not every day I feel particularly... inclined to indulge myself with the people around me. So I'll go straight to the point."

"Id like that, yeah." His words made you smirk. 

"This is probably your second or third job. Yeah?" 

His brows puckered ever softly at the probing guess, but he kept on listening. 

"Sorry if I come out as invasive. Perks of being in this... side of business turns one into a good people reader." You shrugged and he pouted ever softly. 

"Is that so? What can you tell then? Cause, pretty sure you don't know a thing about me, Ma'am." 

"Oh. Feisty, aren't we? I like that. But flirt or whatever this is, aside. I can tell this is your second or third temporary job, your finances aren't that bad, you do manage, but some extra cash wouldn't be bad for you, am I right? What's on the table? A PhD?" 

"Your point is?" He pressed and you smirked 

"Well, since I was lonely, kinda miserable looking and I wasn't having a good time actually, I thought in getting some company." Your words froze him in the spot. And you chuckled again as he cleared his throat. "Your station wasn't that far from my ears, sweetie."

"Sorry about that-."

"Forget about it. I heard enough to know a little play time in bed with me would cost so low. Kinda hurt by that." 

He gulped. His cheeks couldn't help but warm at the implications of your sudden offering. 

"But... wanna think a bit bigger?"

His eyes dropped midway his eyes, like the octave in his voice as he leaned in closer, a mischievous smile tugging at the corner of his meaty lips.

"I ain't low cost, Hermosa. That's for sure." 

"Do I look cheap to you?." Your voice mellowed with a promise of something else within. "I'm everything but. Not when it comes to treating myself anyway." 

And God he would be the biggest liar if he didn't admit that was the hottest thing a woman had told him in such a long time. That surge of power coursing through him felt a bit too good. He could decline so you could raise you tab higher, given that you were the one in need of him. But since he hadn't named a price, the offering was just as tempting as the slit on your red dress that hugged your curves deliciously, or the dip in your cleavage. 

"What do you want exactly from me?" 

And he enjoyed the chase. The power you indirectly granted him by simply admitting that not only money was in play, but a much needed release. He knew  what you needed, just wanted to hear it for himself to convince his mind that one of his secret fantasies was turning so tangible and real, it sent shivers straight to his groin. 

"Repeating the same and the obvious is useless, You're a smart man. You ain't stupid, Miguel. So name your price."

"Well, it depends on how many times you'd like to repeat doing me, Ma'am." 

And it was your time to laugh, a pleasant burn ran through your body, as the thrill of push and pull increased.

"I'm just some years older than you, Miguel, save the ma'am for your grandma." 

"The more reason to keep myself out of trouble, Señorita." he crooned and your lips stretched wider, leaning closer. 

"You're playing too much and time is money for me. So what do you say? Wanna leave this serving charade and do something productive with your time and with me?" 

"So basically you'll pay me to keep you busy and satisfied." 

"Company sometimes as well, but we'll see about the satisfied part." Your lips curled with mischief, "No strings attached of course. Work is a good outlet, but I wanna vary them." Your lips twitched with a feline glint, "It makes wonders for my creative process, which means more money for me. And for you, of course. It's a win win for us both." 

"No strings attached." He repeated, pondering for a moment. 

"Indeed." Your hand gestured elegantly while raking him unabashedly. "So?" 

"I'd like four thousand. For every meetup." he pressed, keeping his eyes on you. Had it been too much? 

"Student loans?" Your brow quirked and he nodded. "How much you owe?" 

"Twenty four grand to go, and I'll be free." 

"Hm. I see." You mumbled, twirling the pencil in your hand. "And, are you sure that's enough for you?" 

Dios mio... 

His breath stuck in his throat and his eyes darkened for a moment. You were for the kill and he was left defenseless. But in truth, he'd gladly die. And older woman wanted him, a gorgeous and rich older woman, nonetheless, was there offering him the financial freedom he so desperate sought out through shitty jobs and whatever gig that increased his bank account numbers.

You were willing to pay for his company, and he'd be out of debt soon with no strings attached. What else could he ask for? 

"Is it for you?" He pushed, amusing you to no end. 

"Don't worry your pretty head about it, sweetheart."

Well, shit. 

"Anything else, then, Ma'am?" 

You hummed, satisfied at his reply. 

"For you to stop call me that and bring some good booze. We're going home. Make sure to quit. I don't like interruptions on my... meals." 

A shudder ran down his spine and he nodded cockily. Night was still young and strong after all, like him and his sudden appetite. 

Although he owed Harry seventy bucks, the number was certainly insignificant compared to what he'd get after this scrumptious workout. 

Initially, the sight of your ample penthouse had snatched his breath away. Lush and elegant, like your overall aura. That until you changed into a more comfortable set of clothes. And by it, it meant a delicate and short turquoise slip with a matching robe. Drinks and business talk came in next, leading to the  culminating peak of your mutual transaction. 

His hands grope and pulled your hips downwards as he thrusted upwards, trying to match the heart-shaking pace of your hips swallowing him with a need he rarely got to see and experience in a woman. 

"Fu.. Fuck!" He groaned when your hips rolled, switching once again the tempo, pushing all the air out of his burning lungs. "Hermosa-" He croaked and shuddered when your walls clamped and pulsated around him without a truce and rest. What were you doing to him? 

He knew some women were good like that, but this... This was beyond his comprehension and skills. It was like if your insides held him a willing hostage inside, snug and tight, milking and pulsating around him at will. Like if they obeyed your command of squeezing the life out of him in rhythmic contractions. 

"C'mon, darling. You gotta-" You hissed, sinking on top of him in a go, his cock kissed with a wet push the very end of your hilt, earning a shaky whimper from his throat, "You gotta work hard for it, yeah?" 

His hands dug in the meaty slabs of your ass, spreading and smacking your hips through gritted teeth. Your eyes gleamed in wicked delight  upon the sight of him, struggling to catch up, fighting off the haze in his brain that clouded his judgement, leaving him completely bare and at your drenching and fluttering mercy. 

There were few things that older people taught Miguel through life. Not underestimating your drive was one. He had believed he could handle you with a quick but deep fuck and that would be the end of it until further notice. How sadly mistaken he was. 

But oh, the wonders and mysteries of the female anatomy never ceased to amaze him as they churned his guts, demanding for his performance to increase, to double his efforts if possible. And he tried, God knows he tried but your pistoning and riding hips had his brain a swirling puddle. Smooshing his thoughts in a jumbled and incoherent mess. 

Your wetness didn't lie, your nails burying on his back didn't lie as they created red welts wherever they explored and clawed, your mouth devoured his, set into stealing every single breath as you rutted your hips, grinding in such a way it made him dumb. Pussy drunk even, despite the condom fitting beyond perfection to put the blaming arrow on it. For once he wasn't the one doing the magic happening, rather enjoying it. 

"Just like that, Miguel" You hissed on his mouth before he returned the favor in leaving you breathless with his demanding kisses and needy hands. 

He didn't know what was more arousing and mind shattering. If you, riding him like he was being introduced to pleasure for the first time all over again with every  diabolical thrust you put him through, pulling noises he often didn't do with his scarce partners in bed. 

Or knowing this kind of experience  laid ahead in his future restless night's with you, set into making an example of why he should never underestimate older women and their burning and insatiable libido when it hit in its whole might. He was burning. Enjoying the gorgeous, older and in heat woman on top of him. 

Too much expertise for him? Perhaps, but he was grateful to be learning how to survive your appetite. He was a sucker for learning after all. 

His hands squeezed and slapped your rear, equally struggling to handle the bouncing globes as they escaped his trembling fingers with each rut, unable to hold still a handful, urging your moves to go faster, rougher and deeper if possible, determined to pull each ounce of  your knowledge out to test and under scrutiny, like the good yet underpaid scientist he was. 

And his jaw dropped with an agonising moan when you leaned back, supporting your hands on the flat of his thighs, giving him a prime sight of your body. 

Your legs spread wider so your cunt would choke more of him inside, swivelling those gorgeous hips of yours in a circular motion, causing his eyes to glue on the mess between heated and sweaty limbs. Your feet barely touched the floor as they remained curled up. 

His cock stretched your pussy, and every time he pushed in, a little spurt of your juices flowed, coating and making him glisten with a pretty shimmer, and for a brief second he really wished to be able to have it raw. Your breast bounced at a mind-boggling pace. The hard and unceasing wet slap of flesh had turned into one of his favorite melodies, specially the slurping noise your cunt gave him when grinding your hips downwards to suck more of him in. 

For once he didn't mind being the end to someone else's pleasure. Why would he when you gave him one of the most erotic sights he ever had the privilege to witness in a woman? The experience had gone beyond the didactical, as it actually stimulated the right spots in his brain, firing up his need to experience more. 

"I'm cumming!" You shrieked 

How would you look while at it? Exquisite probably. Specially when his hand snaked down your hips and his mischievous thumb pressed against your engorged, sweet tasting and throbbing clit, flickering it up and down with calculated speed and force to not overwhelm and end your prowess demonstration too soon. 

"C'mon hermosa, cum for me." He mumbled in between languid pants, almost tasting your mouth again, and when your peak crashed with his name rolling out of your tongue in a needy shriek, he did nothing but to whimper and follow into the depths of nirvana itself, willing to drown in this head-splitting pleasure. With a final thrust and a wheeze, he sheathed, spilling into the condom, whimpering as his forehead hid in the crook of your neck. His hot breath colliding against your tender skin. 

The agonising and shaky moans slowly evolved into exhausted pants and lazy laughs. 

"My goodness" You kissed him once, he returned it, then twice and a half surprised and satisfied smile stretched on his lips. He had survived you. "You alive, Miguel?"

Barely 

His breath stuck in his throat as you rose, the sting of your walls abandoning him suddenly with a wet pop had him slumping against the bed frame, then chuckled as you stood to stretch like you hadn't sweated an ounce, some joints popping back in place. 

"I'm good, hermosa." His hand slicked the sweaty strands as his eyes wandered over your glistening and flushed body. Walking like you hadn't fucked him to heaven and back, towards the abandoned couch where your forlorn clothes laid, to pick up the robe and covering yourself with it. His mouth pursed gently, disappointed to not see more of his marks on you. 

"Want a drink before round three?" 

Dios mio... 

"If you're trying to kill me to not pay me, just say it." 

That earned him a giggle while you poured him a tall glass of water and approached. 

"Well, if I can recall you even asked if it was enough for me." He took the glass without letting his sight to drift from yours. "And by the looks of it, I think it's better for us to stop here as you've had enough. Don't want to break you too soon." 

"I take your word. It's not that I'm not capable you know? I just-" 

"Thank the kegels, dear. They do wonders." He choked as you laughed at his reaction. "Relax. You did amazing. Hadn't cum like that in months. But enough on it." You stood again and fetched your checkbook from the purse. 

"You want a check or transfer?" 

"Uh... transfer. Roomie's nosy." His shoulders rolled back as he leaned in closer. 

"Roomie?" your eyes blinked but quickly shook the upcoming comment away, "Alright. Transfer shall be. You can stay, there's food on the kitchen in case you're hungry, shower is on the left bottom door-" 

"Wait... You want me to stay?" 

"For you to rest, yes. I've had my fill for the night. And those dresses won't design themselves, so stay if you want. If not, let me call my chauffer so he can drop you off. I don't trust local cabs around here this time at night and they probably scam you." 

Well, shit. Wasn't he being pampered? 

He just remained there, pondering and weighing his options until his mouth ran with an unexpected question that surprised even himself. 

"Are you hungry?" 

It didn't matter how things turned, the feeling of having you writhing underneath him so far had no match. Maybe, just maybe, he could compare it to the same rush of dopamine when he paid the last cent he owed to those greedy college higher ups that always sucked the four thousand he righteously earned by being buried deep in you. 

The whole transaction sure had gained a bit more trust between you two, to the point of him having his own copy to your penthouse. Rushed, maybe, but it was more a practical thing than anything he shooed away in his mind before he started reading wrong in between lines. 

You trusted him enough to allow him stay at your own home, eat your food, order even in case he grew tired of the caviar and other exotic things he had devoured at least once, to have a little taste of the life you were getting him used to. 

He wouldn't admit it but there were some habits of yours that grew on him, like not worrying about the good food. You appetite was as good as in bed as outside of it. Something he started to notice and take a like to. He'd watch you devour your meals without a care in the world, wear the lingerie and clothes you wanted. Bought the things you wished at whim, fucked him whenever you felt like it, and God you did fucked him. You were... you. Unapologetically you.

And much to his dismay, he didn't mind sex coming into a second place in both of your agendas. But, ever since that last time, things had been quite... odd, for not saying weird between you two. But it was weird in a good way, or he supposed. 

He had spent the night, doing nothing but talking and indulging in each other's company until alcohol-induced sleepiness claimed you both, only to find you in the kitchen, cooking for both. A hearty meal to give you a good shot of energy for what came next. And to his surprise and disappointment the cue for him to remove your clothes and fuck each other silly, never came. 

Now here he was, attending your impromptu message personally. 

"I'll be in a business trip soon for a couple of weeks if not months. This place will be empty. You're welcome to stay if your roomie still hasn't learned to mind his business." Your voice echoed across the studio, as you draped silk and tafetta over a mannequin. 

"You're leaving?" A tad incredulous he asked from the door frame. Taking in properly your working mode. Truly not expecting you to call him to let him know you'd be off shore. 

Your back faced him, the robe hung loosely on your shoulder as your nimble fingers created a design directly on the fabric. It truly marveled him the kind of things you could manage on your own. Yet it was enough to ponder a nagging question that had been harassing his mind for quite a while now, after he accidentally found a picture of you, kissing a man's cheek with a moonstruck look in your face. And a ring on your finger. 

What had happened? 

He wasn't one to get into people's business, in fact, he prided in keeping himself away from where he wasn't needed nor invited. Yet the picture had stirred the ever and nearly childish curiosity in him. Would you take it wrong if he asked? How would you react if he asked something about the mysterious man, with a smile that didn't reach his eyes next to you? 

"Gotta do a runway in London, then in Paris and Australia. The lots of meetings every day with my manager and team in Greece. And New York again."

If it wasn't for the blasé tone in your voice, he'd thought you were excited to see the world. But he had seen glimpses of the cruel and merciless world a designer threaded on. Stolen ideas, designs, collections, and backstabbing from the least suspecting; nights with little to no sleep, unhealthy eating patterns, stress, anxiety with logistics, contacts, and people asking for favors, sabotaging ... 

And so much more he couldn't remember properly at the moment, but it gave him a better understanding as to why you had sought him, and devoured him until you had your fill. Cause it was never about his pleasure in the first place. And he didn't mind. 

If he was honest, it was what happened after the hookups that ignited that need to experience it all over again. Your sated, sweet laughter in his arms paved the way for a new addition to the already blurry casual dynamic. The intimate talks late at night, while his fingers caressed your scalp, admiring those fine silver threads, peppering your hair here and there, had become his favorite part of the ritual.

Unavoidable as it was, the no strings attached mantra had been slowly vanishing from his brain. Specially when his compliments flared your cheeks and made you giggle like a crushing teenager again. Or when his touches became more gentle and aimed towards soothing you after a long day of stressful events. Your kisses turning more intimate, lingering with each passing week. 

He once found himself kissing the back of your shoulder, in return of yet another mind-splitting orgasm. 

"If you're bringing company to impress, please make sure to clean properly." 

What? 

"Excuse me?" His voice crisped with anger, and you turned to see him, surprised he'd take that personally instead of the usual humorous and borderline jerk-ish and dry way. 

"Sorry..." You returned the attention towards the mannequin again. “Forgive me. That was stupid.”

Very. 

How did you even dare to think he'd do that? Hadn't he been available for you whenever you wanted? Wasn't his loyalty proven enough? 

The sudden epiphany left him even more agitated. The mere thought of being with someone else while being with you, even if transactional, angered him. Offended him even. 

"Just... You know what to do." He mumbled and left the room. A clear 'call me when you need me'. 

"Miguel-" You called but he had been long gone. 

You knew he was a pithy man when it came to words. But his sudden leaving felt odd, even worst when the door from the main door slammed shut. Leaving you with the loneliness as your only companion once again. 

His feet stopped dead in his tracks upon watching the penthouse, your room specifically, empty. Devoid of your presence and some of your clothes and luggage. in the drawers. 

Fuck

He knew you were on a business trip, but, didn't expect you to be gone so soon. Not when he had returned to apologize from yesterday's slip with his temper. And now, he had to wait for God knows how long before he could see you again.

Miguel could text you an apology, or email you one, but it wasn't the way his mother raised him, messed up as it was. Conchata always made sure to make him apologize face to face, so the lesson was learned. Besides, although his thumbs itched to send you a text message, what would he talk about? 

Probably his text would get lost in the many thousands you had yet to attend. So adding himself like another stress factor didn't feel right. Not when you had runways to do and stuff. He'd have to wait although the idea sat wrong in his chest. 

He could leave whatever thing going on between you two, if he wished. He could turn back close the door and forget that he had shared a good couple of months with you. His debt had been paid already, but he never had the courage to tell you. Not because he wanted more money, no. He simply wasn't ready to say goodbye so soon. 

Not when he had gotten used to your presence, your laugh, your sweetness when it came to him. If anything he had been saving up for leaving the city, and couldn't do it if he had no money. But now that his heart found a little detour from the no strings attached rule, he didn't want to go back. 

With a last glance, he took his phone and pressed the chat log of your number. The pretty logo of your company displayed with pride, leaving the text box open. Urging him to write something, to drop the pride and reach out first. But cowardice held him in a choking grip. 

He left. Unable to go past his pride and send you a text message to ask you when would you return. If you needed him, you'd let him know, right? You wouldn't leave him hanging. 

Right? 

You could have any man you wanted, you had him after all. Yet it was enough for his mind to punish itself with all source of intrusive, pessimistic and anxious thoughts. Your plane crashing, you being gone for good, you forgetting about him by finding a new toy. You being with someone else. 

The latter made him frown with an unpleasant sensation coursing through him. Unable to pinpoint between jealousy or fear. 

Maybe you hadn't contacted him in weeks cause you were busy as usual, or the signal sucked.

You were too childish for her. 

His brain trembled and his hand rubbed against his face, letting the headache to brew in. 

She doesn't like it when you behave like a spoiled brat. 

Another thought jabbed his mind and he sighed. What had you done out of him? He often didn't care in the slightest about what people thought of him, but the idea of you not contacting him because he had acted like precisely was too embarrassing to ignore, and that little act up he gave you before you left, only reinforced such thought. 

You needed a man, not a man child. 

The waiting slowly ate his brain alive, until a couple of news stories through social media gave him important and invaluable information he refused to get directly out of embarrassment. After a month and some more without your presence in his life, you were to return within a couple of days to New York. Or so the fashion fan's forum online said. 

He'd get to see you soon. 

The thought alone sent an equally happy and anxious shiver down his spine as his mind raced with all the things he needed to do. 

Would you want to see him again? 

Hopefully... 

Exhausted was a measly word to describe your current mood. The flight had not only delayed twice, but some of your luggage was missing. Important luggage with materials you needed for the bride's dress. 

The fashion tour had drained you so bad to the point of barely leaving time for yourself. If you had the time for drinking a cup of coffee was to say it was too much free time. But now that your agenda finally allowed you to breath and conceded a bit of time, you were ready to go home, take a long bath and sleep the rest of the day. 

Your feet ached, your head pounded and Miguel-

You stopped in your tracks and blinked, just to make sure the sight before you wasn't a product of your quanked mind. 

Holding a bouquet of spring flowers, dressed to impress with a look that could only be translated as  'I'm here for you.' was Miguel. Tentatively, he took a step closer, then another and another until he was before you, towering over your frame with a coy yet genuine soft smile.

"Hey..." 

You hummed, too stunned to see him here, taking the time to see you. 

For a brief of second you couldn't help but wonder if he had ran out of money, hence his presence here. Right? Cause your brain sort of refused to believe, rather didn't want to believe someone like him was genuinely interested in you, not when money had played a huge part in your relationship.

"Hey." Still, it felt good to think at least he cared enough to take his pretense a bit further and actually make you feel special. 

"I'm sorry." He blurted, stopping all thoughts in a go in your overriding brain, "I... wanted to apologize for what happened a month ago. Shouldn't have gotten so upset over it." He offered the flowers, hoping you accepted them. And when you did his heart almost leaped in his throat upon seeing your eyes turning glossy. 

Fuck. 

"I'm sorry for... you know. Fuck... I'm not good at this... but damn. I've... I've missed you, Hermosa." 

"You did?" The question threw him out of the horse's saddle, specially when there was so much unbelieving behind your tone. This time, instead of anger a lick of sadness came through his heart. He didn't know what had happened in your previous relationship, but whatever it did, sure left some open wounds he now started to see. 

Late as usual, but he finally noticed those cracks in your seemingly dismissive behavior whenever he got too close. The defenses your heart put up every time he complimented you genuinely, or his touches began turning a bit too intimate. 

"Of course I did, hermosa. I'm sorry for not contacting you much sooner. I... I didn't know if you wanted to still see me after what happened." He admitted, his heart pounded in his throat as you shook your head. 

"Please don't blame yourself for that. I shouldn't have said something like that either. It was my fault." You sighed, taking a good sniff of the flowers, your nerves soothed, "I should've contacted you as well. But you've got no idea how busy I was."

"Can only imagine." He offered his hand, "Let me help you with your luggage. Are you hungry?" 

The knot in your throat only tightened. 

"You're so sweet, Miguel." Your hand caressed him and he leaned in your touch, letting your warmth to bask him in again, he had missed it. He had missed you. 

"Learned that from a good teacher." He kissed your palm and before his mind scolded him from breaking the detachment rule so miserably, he pulled you for a hug. Inhaling your perfume for the first time in weeks. 

"I've missed you. A lot. I always thought about you, but my job-" 

"Hey, hey. Corazón, it's ok. I know you were working your pretty ass off back in those runways. I'm just glad you're back. Missed my favorite bossy woman." 

That earned him a half sob and chuckle as he kissed your temple and held you. 

Despite the curious and not so discreet glances some people gave your way, Miguel held you by the waist as you walked back to your awaiting car. Ready to catch up and finally, bring those walls down surrounding your heart once and for all. 

What he didn't count in was the same man he had seen back at your place in that picture, was now awaiting in the living room of your penthouse, looking in between you and him, like he had seen a ghost. 

Or for you to ask him to wait in the studio as you handled some stuff. 

But he definitely did not expect the heated argument escalating between you and that man to the point of  him rushing to your side as soon as he heard glass shattering. 

You were in tears, shaking, distressed as the man held his hips and shook his head.  

"You should be ashamed of yourself. Look at you, fucking guys that barely know shit about life." He spat as soon as he saw Miguel. 

"Funny you say so when you broke up our engagement because you didn't feel it was the right time, but you think I didn't know what you did!? You think I don't know you were stealing from me the whole time and spend it on your fucking drugs!?" 

"That was my job too! I worked for your stupid dream as much as you did. It's my job on the line too!" 

"You didn't work shit! I was the one doing the job! It's always been me taking the lead in our business because you're too fucking insecure to make a decision! You were dragging me down, Charles." 

"Well, thank me for dumping you. You think this kid loves you? How much are you paying him to screw yo-" 

Charles, or rather Charlie, your ex fiancé, didn't get to finish as he fell with a hard thud on the coffee table, breaking it in half after Miguel silenced him with a powerful punch in his face. 

Your hand covered your mouth as Miguel dragged the man through the floor with such strength and ease, it made your eyes widen, as he pushed Charles out of your penthouse. As if throwing a bag of trash outside. 

The door rattled when said man kicked it from the other side, startling you. But also having Miguel to pull you to his side without tearing his gaze from the door. 

"Are you okay, hermosa?" His gentle voice was a stark contrast against the merciless beat down he put Charles through. His thumb moved in soothing circles against your lower back. 

"Yeah, just... fuck. I swear I had no idea he would appear out of nowhere-" 

"Hey, It's alright. You don't have to explain yourself, guapa. He came here looking for trouble. Couldn't leave you hanging." 

"You're... not upset?" 

His hand cupped your cheek and wiped away the shy tears approaching the corner of your eyes

"Why would I? He came looking for trouble. They found him. And I never got to ask who was he anyway. Didn't think it was important." He kissed your temple as soon as you shuddered. 

"He wasn't. At least, not anymore. Sure I was engaged to him, but you heard the rest."

"Still, I don't understand why he dumped you."

"He had stolen enough. He didn't need me anymore. So, go figure." 

Miguel frowned and examined your face for a couple of seconds, before pursing his lips. He didn't like the way fear clung to your features. 

"He won't hurt you, ever again. Got it?" 

You nodded. And he gulped while speaking again. 

"You know... I know it might seem like I'm taking advantage of it, but I promise you... it stopped being about the money a long ago." His words sent another jolt to your heart

"And I know... I know it might seem rushed and you might think I'm just playing to get money but... I'm not, I promise I'm not." He swallowed again, "I... I really like you. I like... No. I love spending time with you. You're so... sweet and... and so considerate with me,  You're always helping me around, looking after me even if I act stupid. " He chuckled nervously, stumbling on his own speech, "You're just... so amazing, hermosa. And... I'd be the luckiest man if you give me a chance to prove you how much of the man you need, I can be." 

All he needed was a yes from you. Instead, you pulled him down for a kiss. A kiss that had him snaking his hands around your waist, and pulling you closer so he could consume your supple and needy lips. No vocal reply was needed. Not when the answer tasted sweeter than the wine you loved to drink. 

Like the compliments he gave you when clamping like a vice around him, like the little pout you gave in your sleep after a good night of several rounds with him. 

He didn't care if you were years older than him, he wanted you. And none else but you. And now that you were his, and he yours, neither had the intentions of letting go. 

Dividers by @saradika-graphics <3

[shyrusstone]

Adding onto this. Rant incoming.

I have always been described as "bubbly" and "cheerful" my whole life. Anyone who interacted with me outside my sibling circle thought "she hasn't been through anything before. She has the light in her eyes. She's so happy all the time!"

One day, for (almost) the first time, I found a PCP. I went for stomach pains that were worrying me.

I also, struggled with anxiety. So I thought I'd offhandedly mention, "hey also I have some anxiety. Is that something we can talk about?"

The moment I said it I began to cry.

He took me seriously, and offered for me to see the therapist they had in the building on the spot.

I had a brief talk with her, scheduled an appointment, and went.

I was so anxious. I told her everything that was currently stressing me out and I cried so hard I gave myself a migraine. This meeting was to just cover the basics, I wasn't supposed to go into all those details yet but it just came out. My therapist was a lovely person who saw me and stopped filling out the paper so she could talk me through it immediatley. She asked if she could share this with the doctor to get me some medication. I said yes.

He came into the room after being told of my situation and said what I have heard everytime someone hears what I've been through.

"I would have never even guessed you were going through all that. I met you and you were so warm and bubbly. I'm so sorry"

He then said "I'm going to prescribe you two medications right away and I want to see you in a week. If you have any problems don't worry about making an appointment. Just show up and I'll take you."

Through therapy and medication, I have noticed a *monumental* change in my life.

I'm eating better, I'm exercising, I'm remembering to do things I usually forget and I'm way more focused on things.

I'm not having breakdowns each week at work in the break room, or being too anxious to talk to employees.

I'm not thinking about waking up to a dead family every night. I'm not worried about my parents intentionally poisoning my food.

I don't ruminate on the many near death experiences in my family. I dont tense up when someone coughs in my house.

I don't flinch at every single sound, I don't cry if a loud sound goes off unexpectedly. I don't cry when someone yells at me.

I don't stop what I'm doing to pay attention to which way the emergency vehicles go.

But!

I am still me.

I am still a warm and bubbly person, who will love little things and joke around and buy cute plushies.

I'm lucky I got the right medication right off the bat. I'm lucky to have such an *amazing* doctor who listens to me. I'm lucky to have found the *best therapist* I could have ever asked for.

But I notice when I skip a day on medication. I'm still me without it, but it's so much harder to be.

I'm at my best when I have the help I need.

90s movies: Psychopharmacology is as good as a lobotomy. If you take pills to treat your mental illness it will literally murder your imaginary friends and you will become a boring, lotus-eating conformist drone.

Me after taking my meds: drives the scenic route home to see if there are any geese on the pond and does a little dance in line at the grocery store and comes home to throw everything​ in my fridge into a stew pot because I can finally taste food again while singing songs at my birds in which I replace all the instances of "she" with "Cheese" and doing a Dolly Parton impression on the phone to my sister

[aquanutart]

I was talking and I mentioned that I have my old Game Boy and original Pokemon cartridge. I said, "I think they still work."

I was told, "The internal batteries on the Game Boy cartridges have run out. They're all dead."

"Oh," I said, trying not to show how crestfallen I was. I felt like I was losing nerd cred for not knowing that, although I never kept up with that type of info anyway. I'm here for the fantasy and imaginative aspects of games, and tend not to follow the competitive or technical details.

I tried not to feel anything as I went home. If they were real animals, I reminded myself, I would have had to say goodbye long ago.

But like so many other people, Pokemon was my childhood. It was all I thought about and dreamed about, and the closest thing I could imagine to heartbreak was the knowledge that they weren't real. I spent nearly all my time writing longhand self-insert Pokemon fanfiction--far more than I spent actually playing the game. My Pokemon were with me in my imagination wherever I went. I started playing Pokemon Blue when I was 5, and the last time I had played it was probably when I was 9 or 10. I remembered I had turned it on again one more time after that, not to play it, but to look at my childhood Pokemon.

It was during high school, after a move overseas that completely upended my life, and I was struggling with the crushing blow of being taken away from everything I knew and trying to make sense of anything (least of all adolescence) in another language. All I wanted was to go back to childhood and have everything go back to how it was before.

Seeing my Pokemon, just as I'd left them, had comforted me. I had looked at their stats pages, taken photos of them with my digital camera (that I don't even know if I still have), and then turned it off without doing anything.

That was probably 9 or 10 years after the games came out. It had been a long time since then. I had long since taken the AA batteries out of my Game Boy Color and left it untouched. I didn't even have AA batteries anymore.

It had worked then. But now it had been 27 years... I thought about not trying to turn my cartridge back on. As long as I didn't turn it on, I could believe my Pokemon were still there, the way I remembered them.

On my day off, which happened to be Pokemon Day, I googled and read that some people on forums and Reddit were still able to play their original Pokemon games.

Then... it was possible. I went out to buy toothpaste. At the store, I asked where I could find AA batteries.

It was a big thing for me to be able to go to the store and buy things myself. When I moved at age 13, I felt like something went wrong with growing up. It was difficult to follow what people were saying, and people didn't always understand what I said either. I had been introverted even in English, but now I had enough negative experiences that I became afraid and stopped trying to talk to people altogether.

I threw myself into video games and reliving childhood memories. The internet was where I could communicate in my first language and understand. I lived online and didn't interact with the real world. On the internet I felt like I was understood and could find people who shared my interests the way I did, but in the real world it always felt like I could get hurt if anyone knew me.

I realize now that I could have had a better experience overseas if I'd known how to adapt and socialize, but this was not something I knew even in English, and trying to learn in another language made it ten times harder. I'm sorry now for missing out on interactions that I know I could have had, but I just didn't know how. I wouldn't know how until I learned, and it took me a long time to learn.

I grew up online, in the company of others who had trouble fitting in with the real world, even in their own language. Those experiences shaped me, and the friendships I've made and support I've received online are invaluable to me. The internet gave me a way to live, and through it I learned how to interact with others. But in many ways, for many years, it felt like my life was put on hold and I stopped growing up.

Several years ago I moved back, to not far from where I was born, and I was able to work for the first time. I began to interact with people and feel like I had a place in the real world.

After shutting myself away for so many years, every little step I made out in the world felt terrifying. But every little thing I did on my own made me feel like I was living for the first time.

Even something as little as going to the store and buying a pack of batteries.

I was directed to a shelf at the end of an aisle, and found myself looking at a rack of lithium AA batteries. Did they not sell the old kind anymore?

I walked around to the other side and was relieved to find the familiar black and brown Duracell batteries I'd known from my childhood. I felt more confident about putting in a battery that looked the same as I remembered. The smallest pack they sold was an 8-pack for $12.99. I really didn't need 8 batteries. I didn't have any other devices that used them.

I thought, what if I turn it on and it doesn't work and I'll have wasted $12.99?

I also thought we might already have batteries. I might be able to say, "Mom, do we have any batteries?" and she'd pull out two AAs from a drawer somewhere and I'd save my money.

But somehow I felt like part of what was important about this was being an adult and being able to buy my own batteries.

Yet... what if it just ended up making me sad? Was it better not to know?

I went to the checkout with just the toothpaste and stood hesitating at the edge of the checkout line.

If I didn't get the batteries now, and it turned out we didn't have any batteries, I wouldn't try it. I knew I would just put it off until even more time passed, and then... "Are you in line?" someone asked me.

"No," I said, and I turned around and went back to the shelf.

I bought the batteries.

At home, I took out my original Game Boy Color from the drawer where I left it, the one my dad had surprised me with when I was 5 years old and that I had brought overseas and back.

I put the batteries in and turned it on without a cartridge first to make sure the batteries were inserted correctly. The Game Boy logo scrolled across the screen and it made the familiar blinging Game Boy startup noise. I turned it off again, satisfied.

I took out my original Pokemon Blue cartridge, momentarily having to remember which way it went in, and slotted it in.

I turned it on, watched the whole Pokemon Blue intro out of nostalgia, and then pressed START.

My heart leaped for joy.

MY POKEMON!!!! MY POKEMON ARE ALIVE!!! 🥺🥺🥺

My original Pokemon, that were with me in 1998 when I was 5-6 years old, are still with me 27 years later. I want to cry!!! I love the old sprites, I'm SO happy to see them again 😭😭😭 the Pokemon look so little and cheerful at the same time, which I love 🥺🥺🥺 I know there are people with many more hours on their games, who have leveled all their Pokemon to 100. But these are my Pokemon who were with me through my childhood, and I spent many more hours making up stories about them than actually playing the game. I'm so happy to see them again 😭😭😭

All I want is to see my Pokemon. My other Pokemon are in boxes. Now, how do I get to the nearest PC? Where am I?

Oh... Oh. I have to confess something. When I was a kid, I was scared of the dark cave areas, and whenever I got to them, I stopped playing for a while. (I was stuck at Mt. Moon until I was like, 7.) So I never actually beat the game.

And here I am on Victory Road, with the team of Pokemon I was taking to the Elite Four, without an Escape Rope.

The only way for me to see my other Pokemon is... to finally make it through Victory Road, after 27 years?!

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

i loved that you talked about each dick in great detail and i won't judge u cuz i constantly wonder about rockstars & their dicks. THEY HAD GROUPIES AND I WANTED SO FUCKWING BAD THAT ONE OF THEM TALKED ABOUT HOW BIG THEY ARE OR WHAT THEY DO DURING SEX. LIKE, DO THEY HAVE SOME WEIRD ASS KINK???? WHAT DO THEY DO??? ughhhhhwgsusgahs.

But i'm going to talk about my theories on the size of Guns N Roses members dicks. I'LL START WITH DUFF BECAUSE U SAID HE MUST BE BIG but i always thought about him being like, a little below average(?) HEAR ME OUT. i read on some fucked up website that said that normally men who are taller can have small dicks and that stuck with me. Obviously not all tall men have small dicks, but I've seen dicks from guys who are tall and they're kind of small. so i think maybe it's about 4/5 centimeters. i believe his dick is SLIGHTLY thin, with a very thick tip, you know?

About Axl, I agree with you, he must be about 3 or 5 centimeters but I think his dick is slightly thin but veiny asf. Like, his dick isn't thinner than Duff's but it's not less, I think he would be a little more thicker than Duff's dick. (I also think he's very sensitive, like, just a small touch on his dick, it doesn't matter if it's not on the tip, would make him completely sensitive.)

AND I'M SORRY, BUT I THINK THAT SLASH IS KIND OF SMALL TOO. I think he has 5 centimeters but he makes up for it because he must have a thick & veiny dick. (Nothing to do with size, but I wanted to say that his tip probably turn into a deep shade of red when he's very horny.) I also imagine his dick must be hidden in his pubic hair. NOT THAT IT'S A BAD THING, I love Slash and would love to suck his dick JUST GIVE ME ONE CHANCE AAAAAAWHWHWGWOWVOWBAA.

Now Izzy, i believe he is a little bigger. Like, i imagine it being about 6/7 centimeters, for some reason. His dick must be really thin and his tip too. I EVEN IMAGINE HIS DICK IS A KIND OF CROOKED(IDK WHICH WORD TO USE OK BEAR WITH ME I'M NOT A ENGLISH SPEAKER) TO THE RIGHT OR LEFT LMAO

NOW WE ARRIVED AT MY DEAR AND LOVED STEVEN. he must have a good 5 centimeters, just like Slash. HOWEVER, IT MUST BE THICK. AND LISTEN TO ME WHEN I SAY THICK BECAUSE I THINK IT MUST BE THICKER THAN SLASH'S COCK. He also probably has a lot of pubic hair (have you ever seen Steven's chest? It's covered in hair yummy yummy 🤤🤤) BUT I THINK BECAUSE HE'S "SMALL", HE USES HIS FINGERS SO HE CAN MAKE THE PERSON WHO HE'S FUCKING, COME FASTER.

I'M SORRY IF I SOUND LIKE A WEIRD ASS ANON, BUT I ALWAYS THINK ABOUT IT. If I was a groupie in the 80s I would have DROWNED ON THEIR DICKS. ugh life's so unfair I'm gonna really roll on the floor and cry for 30 minutes.

I meant to respond to this so much sooner but never got around to it and then I thought I deleted it by accident but didn't apparently

I will leave this here now but I will say, I think you meant inches instead of centimetres? You said English wasn't your first language so understandable but five centimetres is only two inches, your English is great but just that little thing and I will leave this here for my gooners to read and analyze

[sha-biest]

Hello! First of all, let me tell you I found your blog by just few days and I am totally in love with your art and your stories - especially and right now the Golden Future AU... I am indeed looking at the various posts (and today I also read the A03 stories, really kudos to your writer friend as well!) to understand all the various details, but, forgive me for asking, I would like to know more about Hassan, how he entered in the story and well how he is going to have apparently a deep relationship with Michelangelo and Gen? (I might have some other question but for now I just really want to know Hassan's story if you are ok thanks so much!)

Hey there!! Really happy to read that you've been enjoying Golden Future so far! Adding Hassan to the mix was a rather.. "spur of the moment" decision on my end but I have no regrets whatsoever lmao. The way I imagined it so far is that Hassan was saved by Mikey from a burning building. He's obviously very thankful but also very much attracted to Mikey but he didnt really know that he already had a partner.

At the time, Hassan wasn't looking to get into a relationship (he's stupid and love is something he fights a lot because he's a big dummy dumdum of a man) Fast forward, Hassan is still showing some advances and he's also very much interested in Gen so Mikey tells him to get to know Gen better. Lo and behold, they fall for each other. Mikey falls for them both. Hassan is being stupid and fighting the bubbling feelings of love towards them but eventually has to give in.

I mean.. who can blame him, really? Mikey and Gen already have their two daughters Ammi and Tsuki and they take things slow, introduce Hassan to them too (if they hate him it would not have been an option for them as much as it would break their hearts)

BUT IT WORKED! Even though Ammi was really making him go through it but.. yeah. Sorry, for the wall of text, you activated the trap card to my special interest (and unlocked some art along the way) (ALSO. Hassan is @morning-sun-brah s OC and she keeps saying he's mine too because I'm clutching him in my little hands and not letting him go)

[zinesbycee]

i can definitely understand this, and agree with a lot of it. i'd like to highlight some of the issues not broadly covered by this post, though:

-a universal price (translated directly from £ to $ etc) inherently excludes people from countries with lower average incomes. when it's proportionally more expensive for people from poorer countries, it's not a worldwide universal experience like they're framing it as

-the merchandise is only available in ~15 countries. countries excluded include basically all of the continents of Africa and Asia. obviously no one is entitled to the right to buy merch, but it's disheartening that none is available to such wide swathes of the world (again while the online event is treated like it's worldwide and accessible to all). the exclusion of Japan specifically feels kinda weird given the multiple videos themed around Japan and the entire merchline themed around Japan - if they're gonna profit from Japanese imagery, it'd be nice if they could include Japanese fans in merch.

-the refunds are being issued very slowly if at all - i bought and then emailed for a refund VERY quickly after the announcement, and have only had the automatic refund of a very small portion that's being issued universally. i imagine i was one of the very first to contact kiswe, and have had no acknowledgement of this contact. i'm not demanding instant response - i understand that these things take time - but i have yet to see ANYONE get a response or a full refund

-the company is seemingly making false claims, such as that only paypal users were impacted by the various issues, when even just in the replies there are multiple people who paid by card who were impacted. it's frustrating that they're whitewashing the scale of the fuckery.

-the company is the same one used for dan's tour livestream, with whom there were assorted issues (such as merch not being dispatched for 4 weeks with broken tracking links, and pro-palestine sentiments being censored in chat). it would have been nice if a different company was chosen, or if those problems were acknowledged more widely by kiswe.

-many people have reported quality issues with TIT merch, including packs of cards containing 5 duplicates, designs on shirts dissolving after one wash, and holes wearing through jumpers after one wash. the response has been slow (i'm personally a month in to my wait for replacement merch for something i got that was defective), and it's just another element of Frustrated With Dan And Phil As A Brand that people are dealing with at the moment.

everyone who worked on the tour deserves to be recompensed for their labour. dan and phil deserve to be recompensed for their labour. the company who run the livestream (whether that be kiswe or any other company) has workers who deserve to be recompensed. but this is a series of fuckeries that primarily negatively impact viewers who already didn't get to see the show live and which was avoidable.

i largely agree with you op, and i definitely think some people have been INCREDIBLY disproportionate. i just also think it's important to not minimise the significance of the problems and also to highlight the specific criticisms from, for example, African and Asian viewers.

(sorry for the many words lol, genuinely 0 hate or anger or frustration to op at all, i'm mostly expanding on the situation as a whole because i feel like there's a lot of nuance and details that only people Deeply Chronically Online know about. i also remember tabinof (and i remember the criticisms when danandphilshop was launched, and when dan and phil had separate online stores back in like 2011, and when they did the sim etc - i've also been around a long time and have seen a LOT of ridiculous, petty shit go down in this fandom) and i remember the deeply disproportionate comments (and video responses holy shit). i just think there's a Lot more substance to this topic than many of the others <3

maybe a hot take idk

look I know many people are upset about the pricing/fee situation of the TIT livestream (me included, I was pissed as hell that I got a large surprise fee), and I hope everything gets sorted out. I’m proud of the phandom for being loud and demanding fairness from the platform. you will not get shit past us.

I understand that. however, I completely disagree with some opinions I’ve seen (mainly on twitter but whatever) that charging for the stream at all is greedy, especially for people who have already paid to see the show. this is a weird take imo because this stream is supposed to be an opportunity for people who didn’t get to go to see it with an audience as a communal experience. but if you already spent money and don’t want to spend more, don’t!

and I don’t know anything about anything but based on the very little information dnp have provided about the cost of touring, I really don’t think they have the option to just do the stream for free. this is just my opinion, but based on how dan said he lost money touring WAD, i would not be surprised if the livestream paid for the rights he needed to release it for free on YouTube (and the extremely important rights to play All Star in the credits). just because he wrote and performed it doesn’t mean he owned it. it would not surprise me at all if the profits from the stream don’t go to dnp only.

and also, Things Cost Money, including livestreams. I think the platform has really showed their ass, but if we remove them from the equation for a second - everyone who put on TIT, including Dan and Phil, deserve to be compensated for their work. I don’t expect them to bleed money into this project forever just because it made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. I’m sure they’re doing just fine financially, but they are not and never have asked anyone to take food off their table to support them.

I actually find it really disheartening to see just how many people were like, legitimately, personally angry with dnp before they had even had a chance to respond to our concerns. I’ve been around long enough to remember when they announced TABINOF, there was an uproar about how they were sellouts because they were writing a book just like every other youtuber, making a shitty cashgrab when they had nothing to say. in the 2 days before we knew what the book would even be about, the Discourse had never been more annoying or mean spirited.

and it made me wonder, what are yall doing here if you assume the worst like that? have you just been waiting for the masks to slip? are you appalled that they participate in the heinous capitalistic act of selling their labor like everyone else? have your years of support not earned a little bit of grace when there’s a miscommunication?

I’m not saying approach everything like ‘they’ve never done anything wrong once in their whole lives and never will’, but the vitriol that seems to come out at minor fuck ups is alarming. some of yall do not like them and it shows. (I am looking directly at twitter dot com now)

I find that attitude really sad. after the TABINOF drama, I promised myself I’d never lose sleep over phandom nonsense again, so I’m going to bed, just had to get some thoughts out there. 💙

[strang3lov3]

So, I just saw your post about a dad!Joel shower sex fic and I have a few thoughts to contribute. (Did I just think of these in my shower... maybe...) Okay, starting tame, my first idea came because I love my showers boiling, if it isn't from the depths of hell themself did I really take a shower? And I like the idea of reader also wanting the shower like blazing hot and Joel just doesn't, he controls the temperature, and gives you a warning look when you whine about it not being hot enough, and yeah maybe its a little because he doesn't want to fuckin' broil to death like he jokes, but maybe it's a little more about the fact that you don't even really have a say in the small details, like how hot your shower is, you know what I'm saying? 😏

And I mean, is it really shower sex if he doesn't use the shower head on you? I mean c'mon now. And I dunno, I'm a little into the idea of him making just a little too hot and coos at you for being too sensitive (or maybe making a comment about how he thought you *liked* hot showers) and maybe just when you get use to is it switches it so it's freezing. Doesn't matter, he isn't gonna let you cum like that, the shower is already going longer than he'd like to be wasting water, and he needs be inside you now.

And maybe when he's fucking you up against the wall of the shower, water spraying around you make a little snarky comment about how you don't understand why he gets mad when you take long showers but you'd argue this is definitely a long shower and that pisses him off a little cause, you are just an ungrateful brat who doesn't pay the bills around here, you ain't the one who works your ass off everyday to provide for you, and who are you to complain when he's making you feel good? Yk?

Was this too much? I didn't mean to write a whole essay, but I couldn't get this off of my mind and I guess I had more to say then I thought... oops 😬🤭

don't mind me, I just had to share, but like, I'd eat up whatever you write because I am absolutely in love with your writing!

Look at you, thinkin' about me in the shower. Not me, but my little fic lol. SORRY sorry I'm flirting I'll fuck off.

Okay, starting tame, my first idea came because I love my showers boiling, if it isn't from the depths of hell themself did I really take a shower? And I like the idea of reader also wanting the shower like blazing hot and Joel just doesn't, he controls the temperature, and gives you a warning look when you whine about it not being hot enough, and yeah maybe its a little because he doesn't want to fuckin' broil to death like he jokes, but maybe it's a little more about the fact that you don't even really have a say in the small details, like how hot your shower is, you know what I'm saying? 😏

So 👏 yes. I too want my showers fucking boiling. But of course Joel doesn't. Quit your fuckin' cryin'. Just snuggle up to Daddy if you're so damn cold.

And I mean, is it really shower sex if he doesn't use the shower head on you? I mean c'mon now. And I dunno, I'm a little into the idea of him making just a little too hot and coos at you for being too sensitive (or maybe making a comment about how he thought you *liked* hot showers) and maybe just when you get use to is it switches it so it's freezing. Doesn't matter, he isn't gonna let you cum like that, the shower is already going longer than he'd like to be wasting water, and he needs be inside you now.

Suuuuuch a good point. It's really not shower sex if the shower head is uninvolved. There are, of course, exceptions to this rule. Some of us live in shitty apartments and have shitty, one function shower heads that cannot be taken off the wall :)

THE TEMPERATURE PLAY? i'm fucking hyperventilating. I have whiplash from this ask. I was getting cozy with the idea of getting off like that but OKAY APPARENTLY NOT! He's gonna fuck you now, I guess. Lead the way, non.

And maybe when he's fucking you up against the wall of the shower, water spraying around you make a little snarky comment about how you don't understand why he gets mad when you take long showers but you'd argue this is definitely a long shower and that pisses him off a little cause, you are just an ungrateful brat who doesn't pay the bills around here, you ain't the one who works your ass off everyday to provide for you, and who are you to complain when he's making you feel good? Yk?

Can you just like, sit next to me when I write this. Tomorrow/Monday. Clear your schedule. Like just keep whispering in my ear, keep all this perversion coming. I'm thriving on it.

Was this too much? I didn't mean to write a whole essay, but I couldn't get this off of my mind and I guess I had more to say then I thought... oops 😬🤭 don't mind me, I just had to share, but like, I'd eat up whatever you write because I am absolutely in love with your writing!

NOT AT ALL. You are juuuust what I fuckin' needed, honey. I'm gonna be copying and pasting this ask into my outline for showerdaddy and you get brownie points for holding my hand through this. Fucking THANK YOU! i'm kissing your brain mwahmwahmwahmwahmwAH

[saintsenara]

read Scylla and Charybdis today loved it! Very excited to see how it continues. I have a question for you as someone for whom the intricacies of the British class system are still a bit misty. Aren’t Snape and Lily both from Cokeworth? They’re almost neighbors, right? They’re able to run into each other at the swing set after having walked there at age nine or so. So how is it that Lily’s family is sooo much better off financially than Severus’s family? Or is that even true? Would they not have similar accents and similar ignorances at Hogwarts compared with their classmates? And Lily is muggleborn and a woman, so she has those disadvantages to deal with when Severus doesn’t. 

It feels like Severus is taking for granted that his situation is far more difficult than Lily’s. Is that a reasonable assumption on his part, or is he not seeing past the end of his own nose? From where I’m sitting, it seems like he feels so sorry for himself about his (def seems pretty grim) background that he decides to do terrorism about it and he sort of resents Lily for not grasping that. But she has a very similar background as far as I can tell? Or are things really that different a few streets away? Or is it specifically because Severus was raised by his drunk, deadbeat, abusive father that his outlook is so bleak? 

Like yes Lily can afford ice cream and it doesn’t occur to her to treat Severus (Harry is maybe a better friend than she was in some ways?). But being able to afford ice cream kind of looks trivial when compared to the prospect of trying to fit into magical public life after Hogwarts when a looooot of the population seems in agreement with Voldemort that muggleborns should definitely be treated as second class citizens? Kind of like what Remus says about how Harry’s view on his lycanthropy is rose colored by having only seen him under Dumbledore’s protection. Tho on the other hand, there are the muggleborn hiring quotas that Severus would probably point to. 

if the answer is just Yeah Severus is an insightful person but he also has a severe case of sees-what-he-wants-to-see-itis like that’s fine, I just suspect there are some cultural nuances I am missing as an American. 

thank you very much for the ask, pal! i'm delighted you're enjoying scylla and charybdis.

snape and lily's respective class backgrounds are something i've gone into more detail about here, but the summary is that they're both from working-class backgrounds, but that there's a hierarchy of sub-backgrounds - each with its own behavioural nuances - within each class bracket. from an outside perspective - that is to say, from a separate class bracket - these sub-hierarchies might not seem particularly profound, but they matter enormously within their specific brackets.

snape - who lives in victorian slum housing, is visibly destitute, has a father who's presumably unemployed a lot of the time [and who, when he does work, is presumably - since the text really hammers home the connection between his house and the mill - a mill-worker], and has a family who seem to have a reputation for not being respectable [petunia knows who snape is when he first meets lily, and she's clearly been advised not to socialise with his sort…] - is a level of working class below lily. i doubt she comes from a background which is rich by any means. but she was clearly raised in a family which was both much more financially stable and much more socially stable - and, therefore, much more socially respectable.

and these class nuances clearly repeat themselves in the wizarding world [the wizarding class-system - for the doylist reason that jkr didn't want to flesh it out so she just made it the same as the real-world version and the watsonian reason that the way class functions in britain has roots which stretch back well before the statute of secrecy - is a mirror to the muggle one...]

they're just obscured in canon by the fact that so few of the main characters we encounter in the text are working-class. as i've gone into more detail about here, hogwarts is an institution which is pretty homogenous class-wise, but this isn't because the wizarding world is more egalitarian in terms of social class [we meet lots of characters - especially in manual or service roles - who are transparently intended to be understood by the reader as working-class and, therefore, to be understood by the reader as harry's social inferiors], it's because hogwarts exists in order to mould its students into people who conform to the social conventions of the wizarding elite, before it shuffles them off into state jobs to maintain and enforce the class system.

the teenage snape is one of only two students we ever meet - from any blood-category - who looks working-class [the other is hagrid]. he also appears to sound working-class - the swearing which prompts james to wash his mouth out is how the narrative communicates this, while the text's implication that everyone else at hogwarts sounds fairly homogenous is another way the school trains its students to be the elite - and to comport himself in a way which is similarly understood as a bit rough...

and this is very interesting, because it's a manifestation of one of snape's character traits which comes up again and again across the series - that he detests people who have had [or who he perceives to have had] everything handed to them on a plate.

he's not somebody who's naturally deferential - he will defer to people he believes have earned their right to consider themselves his superior [such as voldemort and dumbledore] but he's totally unwilling to defer to people whose only superiority over him comes from things like their class background [hence him responding to sirius implying that he's lucius malfoy's bitch by pointing out that he's actually the one who needs to worry about what lucius could do to him], their connections [hence his "ironic bow" when umbridge is trying to threaten him by referring to his relationship with lucius], their social status [hence literally every interaction he ever has with harry] or their wealth [likewise].

and this results in him being the only hogwarts-educated character we ever meet who doesn't play the class game while at school [voldemort - while he rejects the patron-client dynamic with slughorn which was clearly the only way he'd be allowed to enter the ministry - clearly makes the effort to speak and behave like a pureblood during his teenage years, which is exactly why everyone finds him turning down slughorn's job offers to be so shocking]. but, aged sixteen, the snape we find on the page isn't making any effort to embrace the social conventions which are his only hope of escaping poverty in a world with such a restrictive class system. he wants to become successful on his own merits.

this is a pretty admirable thing, in and of itself. but it gives him a series of absolutely enormous blind spots in his relationship with lily.

because lily does play the game. she's one of slughorn’s favourites, she's one of dumbledore’s favourites, she marries and takes the name of a pureblood man, and when she turns on her working-class friend [which she does for the very, very good reason that he's just called her a slur]... she does so by pointing out her superiority to his poverty.

from snape's perspective, this is class-treachery… but this means that he never bothers thinking about why lily might want to - and, indeed, need to - engage with wizarding society in a more conventional way.

[we also see this in half-blood prince, when harry, ron, and ginny find the idea of hermione attending the slug club to be ridiculous. none of them think for one moment about why a muggleborn woman might want to obtain the support of a well-connected pureblood man who clearly likes her…]

it's clear in canon that the only real way for muggleborns [and for part-humans - all of this also applies to lupin] to give themselves a modicum of protection from a state and a society which regards them as an underclass is to stick as rigidly to respectability politics as they can. they need to cultivate pureblood and half-blood connections and behave in ways which are deemed acceptable by the pureblood world and so on, so that when the state is seeking to oppress them, they have someone ready to defend them as "one of the good ones".

indeed, i'm always struck in deathly hallows that - when the trio infiltrate the ministry - reg cattermole [really ron in disguise] is told the following by yaxley:

"But if my wife were accused of being a Mudblood," said Yaxley, "- not that any woman I married would ever be mistaken for such filth - and the Head of the Department ofMagical Law Enforcement needed a job doing, I would make it my priority to do that job, Cattermole. Do you understand me?" [DH 12]

and this phrasing is really important. because it comes with the implication that being accused of being muggleborn is an accusation which can - on occasion - be beaten.

it's apparent in the text that being accused of being - or found to be - muggleborn [and therefore "guilty" of the "crime" of "stealing magic"] is more likely to happen to you if you're somebody the regime wants out of the way.

we see this in the case of dirk cresswell, who's clearly identified [correctly! we know he is one because slughorn tells us so in half-blood prince] as a muggleborn in order to benefit two men who are death eaters or death eater collaborators...

this bloke:

The wizard leaned toward Harry, leering, and muttered, "Dirk Cresswell, eh? From Goblin Liaison? Nice one, Albert. I'm pretty confident I'll get his job now!" [DH 12]

and runcorn, who would presumably receive some sort of job-related boost for "catching" as many muggleborns as possible:

The lift doors closed and as they clanked down another floor, Mr. Weasley said, "I hear you laid information about Dirk Cresswell." [DH 13]

runcorn is also the person who submits mary cattermole to the commission - and i have always believed that he does this because reg cattermole [who's someone arthur weasley clearly knows reasonably well] is known to have anti-voldemort views...

because hermione says something similar, when she points out to ron that him teaching her his family tree to help her pass as a pureblood would do nothing to protect her from the commission - the reason she's on the list of muggleborns who are wanted for questioning is because of her connection to harry [DH 11].

and ted tonks says that he refused to attend his registration hearing "on principle" [DH 15] - undoubtedly because he's aware that, as the father of an order member and the husband of a blood-traitor whose sister is one of the highest-ranking death eaters, he's someone the regime intends to kill, and he'd like to make doing that as difficult for it as possible...

but there's a subtext to all of these cases. if mary and dirk weren't people the regime regarded as expendable, or if ted and hermione weren't people the regime regarded as enemies, they'd have a chance of being safe. the commission would find some "proof" that they weren't muggleborn.

[perhaps by claiming that muggles traffic magical children and they'd been stolen from their real families, which would also handily stoke anti-muggle sentiment...]

yaxley is telling cattermole that the same thing could happen for his wife… in the right circumstances.

and so the lily of the 1970s is seeking to give herself as many of these right circumstances as possible. she's in the extraordinarily difficult position of wanting to fight voldemort - to the death, if need be - and having to set things up for herself in a way which enables her to keep fighting for as long as possible without attracting either voldemort or the state's ire, and having to deal with the fact that - when the anti-voldemort cause is victorious and the dark lord's dead - she's still going to be at risk from the state because she's a muggleborn.

financial worries are going to be less potent for her - james is wealthy; so is sirius, who she could presumably expect to help support her in a scenario where james was dead or imprisoned or in hiding; her relationship with dumbledore and slughorn could easily be leveraged into a high-flying job - and she's also [very probably] not going to stand out in terms of appearance, behaviour, or understanding of social convention from her hogwarts-educated pureblood and half-blood peers, which enables her - much like lupin - to move through the world without being instantly clocked as a target.

she's also protected - to some degree - by gender conventions. the married women we meet in canon prior to voldemort's defeat [the only exceptions, it seems, are tonks and maybe fleur] all take their husbands' names - and so lily acquiring a pureblood surname for herself offers her an additional, socially expected way to blend in which muggleborn men [or half-blood men with muggle fathers...] lack.

but these things are - of course - protections, rather than advantages.

snape just refuses to see it like that.

his focus is purely on the way he's discriminated against - and he is; he's not invented the grievance - due to his class background and financial status. and voldemort is the only person who takes this class aspect seriously - both in scylla and charybdis and in canon.

[this is why he has enormous support among werewolves and goblins. this is why the snatchers are all written as working-class young men. this is why there's a populist undertone to his regime.]

but voldemort is also treading a fine line. he can't declare himself to be seeking to destroy the class-system by which the wizarding world functions... because then the elite supporters who think his aims are pureblood oligarchy would abandon him and the ministry would be less willing to make concessions [after all, the implication of canon is that - if he'd just stayed away from harry - the first war would have been wrapped up by the ministry coming to the table…].

but he also needs to keep his popular support... so he can't be seen to be someone who's in favour of oligarchy.

but he also needs to keep those of his supporters who are drawn to him precisely because of his promise of violence happy... so he can't come across as someone who's perfectly happy to take over the state and its institutions and keep them running broadly unchanged.

but he also needs to keep the support he has among part-humans and non-humans... so he can't do anything which will have him dismissed as someone who's advocating for the same old wizard-supremacist violence.

but he also needs to keep both his elite and his popular wizarding support by not even remotely suggesting that he's seeking to replace magical people with werewolves and goblins…

he needs a scapegoat he can turn all of these disparate groups' ire on, in a way which prevents them from realising that he's lying to them all and that what he actually wants to do is to rule as an immortal absolute monarch with everyone else cowering at his feet.

and he finds that scapegoat in muggleborns.

[vaguely-concerned]

can't believe garak went from 'hope you have fun following my little breadcrumb trail of maybe-truths doctor it builds character ;)' at the beginning of the show to '*sigh* fuck it here's the whole loaf. the entire fucked up bakery of my soul. if you somehow still wanna have sex with me after this you know where I am, yours in infinite longing etc.' in a stitch in time. has anyone ever been so pathetically horrifically enduringly down bad as garak is for julian (laudatory)

[welcometogrouchland]

I understand that literature nerd Jason Todd is kind of overblown in fanon compared to it's actual presence in canon (a few issues during his pre (and post?)crisis Robin tenure that highlight it) BUT consider that I think it's hilarious if the unhinged gun toting criminal has strong opinions on poetry

[asvidema]

finally sat down to sketch henry of skalitz, blacksmith's son, and his lord, hans capon of pirkstein from kingdom come deliverance

[necrotic-nephilim]

I’m gonna be honest I didn’t realize the new 52 messed with Kon that much till I read your post and now I can’t get over the potential. I’m a Tim/Kon girly at heart so I would devour anything you write exploring the 52 vs typical Kon. Also Time being in a clone sandwich is 👌.

the new-52 messed Kon up SO bad it's ridiculous. like, to the point i would personally argue he's a completely unrelated character to pre-Flashpoint/Rebirth Kon. his personality, his suit, his origin, all different. the only real similarities are the name and powerset. and even New-52!Kon's powers are slightly different from pre-Flashpoint!Kon. New-52!Kon is a clone of a future version of Jon Lane Kent, cloned by N.O.W.H.E.R.E. to provide genetic material to Jon Lane Kent, whose body was not handling being half human/half Kryptonian well, it was a whole thing. New-52!Kon is also where we get the infamous "Kon-El means 'abomination of the house of El' and Kara basically named him a slur in Kryptonian culture" tidbit, because that is the only time that's canon. (originally Kon-El was a name gifted by Clark to accept Kon as his family way back in the 90s) he also never went by Conner Kent. New-52!Kon just straight up didn't have any real human identity or connections, outside of being very close to Tim and some Titans.

the very TLDR of Kon's history is: during post-Crisis/pre-Flashpoint, a clone called Superboy is created by CADMUS. at first, he's considered to be a clone of a dude named Paul Westfield and is not Kryptonian whatsoever, he was simply made to look like Superman and only has Tactile Telekinesis as a power. then, it was made canon that actually he was a clone of Lex Luthor and Clark Kent, but Lex hid this fact and slowly, Kon developed more Kryptonian powers. he's given the name Kon-El by Clark, and is taken in by the Kents, getting the name Conner Kent. then Flashpoint happens, we get the New-52, and we're given the above version of Kon-El, who is a clone of Jon Lane Kent, created by N.O.W.H.E.R.E. who has mostly very strong telekinesis powers and some Kryptonian powers. he's with the Titans for a bit, then at the end of the New-52, he kills some aliens and feels bad about it so he decides to fuck off and is never seen again, it's presumed he's dead but never confirmed. then Rebirth happens and DC makes Jon Kent the current Superboy, we get Supersons and all that, and it's assumed that no version of Kon-El exists. just at all. he's not around whatsoever, Jon is our only Superboy. *but* in 2019, we get a new Young Justice run and the pre-Flashpoint Kon-El is back, and we're given the explanation of: Kon got accidentally teleported to this alternate realm called Gemworld and then Flashpoint happened, and since that was a Crisis Event that changed the timeline, the poor lad got *erased* from the timeline, causing most people to *not fucking remember him* and for him to remember a timeline that no longer exists. some of the Young Justice team vaguely remember him, Ma and Pa Kent remember him, but notably, Clark *does not remember him*. it's not an issue of "Clark ignored Kon in favor of Jon" it's an issue of "Kon was erased from the timeline and didn't exist for years bc he was stuck in Gemworld and Clark just doesn't remember Kon or Kon's timeline" which to me, is far more tragic but i digress. since then, Kon has been back and is present in most significant Superfamily runs, with his own recent mini-series, Superboy: Man of Tomorrow. (which was very good btw)

so basically: the New-52 fucked Kon up so bad they wrote him out of comics for years and then brought back the pre-Flashpoint version, but never *explicitly* killed the New-52 version off. so hypothetically, it's possible that there are currently two characters existing in the DC universe named Kon-El who have been Superboy. and like i said above, one of New-52!Kon's only real significant relationships was with Tim, it was the only thing the New-52 managed to get right about Superboy, his closeness to Tim. they have a *lot* of moments that read incredibly queer. and ofc, it's just outright confirmed in Dark Crisis: Young Justice that Tim had a crush on pre-Flashpoint!Kon at some point. so while comics are intent on pretending New-52!Kon doesn't exist, i am intent on putting Tim in a clone sandwich.

because i do think it's fun to play with Tim having genuine feelings and potentially a relationship with both of them. and the fucked up nature of him not fully *remembering* his relationship with pre-Flashpoint!Kon (which is a canon thing, in YJ(2019) Tim has vague memories of Kon he's struggling to piece together and understand why he cares about this guy he doesn't recognize so much) and how frustrating that is for Tim. he knows he loves Kon, but it's all foggy besides that. and so it's even *more* fucked up if Tim dated New-52!Kon before he got emo and ran off into the unknown. obviously in canon no one has told current Kon about New-52!Kon bc comics are doing the good ol' tried and true of "sweep that shit under the rug" but for fanfic, i think it's fun to ask the question of: would anyone *tell* Kon? especially Tim? who now remembers dating both versions of them? would he admit to Kon that briefly, he had another Kon? how would Tim cope with that and move on? personality wise, they could not be more different. they dress and act and look different. they're not the same person, but there's certainly a questionable factor of Tim's dating history including two Kon-Els.

the idea i've had for a while is Tim slowly starting to date pre-Flashpoint!Kon again. it feels familiar and like home. and Tim has grieved and accepted that wherever New-52!Kon is, he doesn't want to come home, he didn't love TIm enough to stay and try. so Tim takes the Kon he has, and genuinely has a happy relationship. like for once, life is good and things almost make sense for Tim. but then, of course, New-52!Kon comes back. he decides he wants to try again and he finds Tim. only to find well. he's been replaced. and technically, he's been replaced with the *original* that he didn't even know *existed*. and if being a clone is bad enough, that just makes it a hundred times worse. because imagine knowing you're actually the second Kon-El your boyfriend who you never *technically* broke up with fell in love with. that's gotta give you some kind of complex.

so i think it's fun if both Kons try to step back and let the other Kon date Tim. both of them have reasons to feel like the "replacement" or "fake" Kon, and it makes them incredibly awkward with each other. do they count as the same person? bc they definitely don't *feel* like the same person to each other, but with weird timeline stuff, who can really say. them settling on an awkward throuple that's really meant to be Tim just dating them both but somehow they end up dating each other too is so fun for me. they both feel like imposters to the Superboy name but are so deeply in love with Tim Drake, it's the one thing truly connecting them. and then of course, Tim feels bad in that somehow, he's betraying both of them for having feelings for the other. but they make it work, with a lot of awkward angst and miscommunication. i just think it'd be fun. very difficult to write to get all the weird timeline nuances down in a way that's understandable in a fanfic (bc you can't just. infodump like i did on this post) but doable. also difficult to tag, because even though i argue these are two different characters, i'm pretty sure Ao3 groups them under the same character tag. so it'd be difficult to convey it's not *really* as selfcest-y as it would imply. comics, man. DC will never acknowledge New-52!Kon again, and he's admittedly a terrible adaptation of Kon-El, but. i think he was sort of neat in his own right and i'd *love* for DC to just inexplicably bring him back and make the current Kon deal with the consequences of all that. and them make Tim kiss them both. obviously.

[innocentcurse]

Floyd smiled at Copper’s words, genuinely touched by the sentiment. It was easy to forget, sometimes, how much Copper had been a constant in his life, particularly as the two had been separated time and time again, not overly close for very long bouts at one time. "I get that, I get what you mean," Floyd said, his voice quiet but filled with warmth. "Enough with the mushy stuff, huh?" he teased lightly, his grin widening. "Oh Cops, you've already gone way into mushy territory, it's far too late," he laughed. "But I suppose I can let it slide. Only 'cause you're being such a good host."

Floyd’s smile softened as they continued talking, especially when Copper asked him if he missed the circus. The question brought a mix of nostalgia and sadness to his chest, the sadness in particular radiating through his entire body like the buzzing of a bee. "I do miss it," Floyd admitted, his gaze dropping to his beer for a second before his eyes returned to meet Copper’s. "It was my whole world for so long… I guess not everything can last forever, but I don't know," he shrugged his shoulders as he thought of what next to say. "I guess I'm still just trying to figure out who I am without it, where my place is here, and my parents..." Floyd felt such immense guilt over making them lose their livelihood, not that that was a detail that any of them spoke of freely. "I think they miss it too, but they also seem to have settled in here better than I have."

"I'd like to see some sort of carnival or circus here, yeah, I think it'd totally be a hit," he chuckled as he thought of the scene, though he couldn't deny the fact that the thought also had him feeling a certain amount of dread, too. "If there were to be one brought here, though, as much I'd love to work it, I don't think I'd fully take on the same jobs, the same roles. I don't know, maybe I shouldn't work there at all - not that it's anything more than hypothetical now. Maybe there was a reason for me to have to move on from it, though, you know?"

"Thank you," he laughed and blushed through all of Copper's compliments. "It's all so complicated, though. It's more than looks, more than personality, even. I know I'm not the only one with baggage, with differences, but sometimes I feel like... a robot, or something, compared to other people, like I'm some sort of alien, even..." Floyd's words trailed off, his mind swirling with sad thoughts. Thankfully after only a moment, Floyd caught himself, coming back to reality. "Sorry, don't know why I got so... well, real I guess."

"Oh yeah?" Floyd's face lifted with an intrigued brightness as Copper began to tell him of his own love life; he found himself much more excited for his friend than what he would have thought he'd be. "Well just like you said to me, there's no rush. Take things at your own pace, let yourself feel terrified, and go with what feels right," Floyd didn't feel overly qualified to give advice, but still, he was going to try his hardest. "I think you'll feel it when you're ready, I think even if it's still scary, you'll just know. Love is one of those mysterious things, you know? One of those things that just... feel like a whole other force, unlike any other that we know."

Being with Floyd like this was just easy. That was what Copper kept thinking once his friend had arrived at his house, the two of them talking like they’d been hanging out like this so many times before. To an outside observer, it probably would have been a shock to know the full details of their friendship and how it had come to be. They talked and laughed, and yes, Copper felt a little thrill at the prospect of sharing a bed with his friend, but that was just because he was a man who liked other men, and Floyd was…well, hot. If he saw the man at the bar, he’d probably make a move, but right now it felt so good to just have someone he could confide in. “You know,” he said, “you’re the only person in town I can say has known me a long time. Everyone else here…they’re new. But not you, and that’s more comforting than I expected.” Once more, Copper smiled at Floyd, and then he laughed, saying, “Alright, I know, enough with the mushy stuff.”

“I’m sure I’ll get top marks then,” Copper retorted, “though I’m not above bribery - not that my pizza needs it though.” It really was the best, at least in Copper’s extremely fair and unbiased opinion. Upon seeing Floyd’s reaction, Copper smiled in satisfaction. “Damn right it does,” he shot back. “It’s perfect, just admit it. It’s possible I put a little extra into this one for you.” That was actually true: Copper had spent a long time getting the toppings perfectly proportional, and he was pleased with his work. With the pizza still cooling, Copper took a sip of his beer and listened to Floyd talk about how things had been here for him. “Yeah, that’s for sure,” Copper laughed. “This town is…well, peculiar, but I like that. Seemed like a good place for me to start over.” He thought about how far Floyd had come, how much things had changed, and as he began to cut the pizza into slices, he asked, “Do you ever miss the circus? It was such a huge part of your life for so long. I bet it would have been a big hit here.” And that was when Copper realized something: “This is kind of the place for the strange ones, the ones who don’t quite fit in most of the time, you know?” he commented. 

The way that Floyd laughed at Copper’s question was so adorable; Copper liked seeing that shyness inside of him. It was sweet. “There’s no rush of course, but for real, Floyd. Take it from a gay man: you’re super hot. So whenever you’re ready, you’re going to be beating them off with a stick.” Now it was Copper’s turn to be shy, grinning at his friend as Floyd turned the question back on him. “I’ve been enjoying the men of Cardinal Hill a bit,” Copper admitted, and then it all hit him, the very different circumstances for his single life, and his smile fell right off of his face. His voice noticeably more reserved, Copper went on, “I like talking with guys, like taking them to bed, even like friends with benefits. But I haven’t dated anyone. I don’t know if I’m ready for that.” Copper didn’t think he would have to explain why; he figured Floyd understand. “Sometimes I wonder if I’m getting close,” he admitted, thinking of someone in particular, “but it’s kind of terrifying.”