#THEN i ALSO have to do stuff w my family. so when i ditch my family to do stuff w friends online i feel even more horrible

[dufferpuffer]

James also acts very poorly when he was a teen, what would you say the differences and similarities are between him and Draco? (I do feel like jkr was definitely drawing parallels with him, Draco and Dudley. Especially when we see 11 yr old James on the train, the way he talks about sorting is very similar to how Draco did, just they fall on different sides, but the arrogance is still there. Also I feel Dudley’s gang in the beginning of ootp is another parallel to the marauders behavior in swm) (I also find it interesting that James bullying is more extreme/cruel/violent than Draco’s even though Draco has more of a reason to be prone to violence than James (he seems to actually be adverse to it, like in HBP)

'as a teen' - honestly I think James acts poorly as a bloody adult lol

Dudleys gang = Marauders is so big brain, you've blown my mind, that's actually awesome And pulls Harry right in to being comparable to Severus

I think the biggest difference in the upbringing of Draco and James, both raised bullying, rich, spoiled Purebloods - is James was raised with the idea that it's what you DO that gives you worth. While the Malfoys just believe they have worth, for WHAT they are.

James goes around and fights the bad guys. Sirius chooses to ditch his 'bad-guy' family. Remus chooses to 'be a good werewolf'. I don't even know what Peter did to be fair - they were just mean to him. Lily is a talented Muggleborn in a time where that's dangerous.

Severus? No matter how much they beat him down he keeps doing more bad stuff, he digs his heels in and becomes 'worse'. Which means he is choosing to knowingly be a 'bad-guy' Because James, as a kid, seems to see the world in B&W. He can say hurtful things to his friends because he proves himself as good. He can hurt Severus because Severus is bad. He has never had to understand context and differing viewpoints. Maybe that changed a little from the prank: His friend doing something quite bad to Severus, Remus and Dumbledore... but was still a good guy. Draco just... IS good. BORN good. He can sit on his high horse and sneer at people because he was born one of the 'good guys'. It's annoying to him when someone born a 'bad guy' gets so much attention... and for what? A stupid scar? (thats something he and Harry would agree with: Harry hates the attention he gets for his stupid scar, too.)

Draco doesn't need to prove anything. The idea of getting his hands dirtied is grotesque - he is too good for that! Draco can whinge and complain about a broken arm because that dangerous dirty half-giant is a menace to good society! Thats all I feel about it right now, uh... cool ask :) makes me brain brr

[anonymoushouseplantfan]

1) Harry has previously said that he didn't watch suits and has no idea about Meghan. Now he says that W&k were fans of suits so he knew Meghan/Suits? Which one is the truth?

2) Harry says William forbade him to keep a beard coz he wasn't allowed to have one. It sounds so petty. Did William really do that?

3) Harry couldn't even afford a sofa?? Why did meg had to lay for it?

4) If Harry couldn't even afford such a small item then who was paying for the Cotswold farmhouse that they had rented all through their courtship?

5) Most importantly, what exactly do h&m want in this so called "reconciliation summit"? What are your views Plant? I would be ashamed to show my face in front of my family and friends after such disgrace. They came to jubilee saying they want to honor queen, fine, but they have beef with Charles and William so why come to coronation. In fact if I had so much resentment towards someone I would cut them out clean. No contact ever.

1. No one watched Suits. He’s lying about Will and Kate being fans. He learned of Suits when he googled Meghan. The guy basically watches cartoons, by his own admission.

2. I don’t buy the beard story. Harry flips his narratives about Will several times in the book. First, Will ditches after his wedding and doesn’t my care about him anymore, then Will is over controlling, micromanaging stuff like his beard and wedding location. Both of those can’t be true.

3. Not sure what the deal is with the sofa because they got millions to renovate Nott Cott. Moreover, he has a trust fund Di left him and Meg made money from Suits and marching. They should have been able to buy furniture. Probably they bought a cheap sofa to tie them over until they got the big house.

4. Soho House paid for the Cotswolds cottage. It was a new development where the Soho House owner was an investor and the the Harkles were basically comped their stay in exchange for promoting the development.

5. He wants an official royal connection he can use for merching and reality shows, basically the half-in and half-out he asked for during Megxit. He doesn’t care about his family and just wants to monetize the relationship. He wants this for three reasons. First, they make a lot more merch money with the royal connection, like 200 times as much. The difference is huge. Second, official status gets them onto White House/political events and international events that they can use for their merching and reality shows and Netflix will pay them more money for that. Third, his main product is royal drama and he realizes he’s just recycling old drama now. He needs the reconciliation to create new drama material to sell. Of course, that’s exactly why the family can’t reconcile. They would be trading a five year old fake “royal racist” accusation for new “royal racist” accusations every three months.

His goal is to obtain a made-up post like the Trade Ambassador deal Andrew had that will allow him to set up two/three trips a year he can use for merching and filming. He’ll film each trip for Netflix and he’ll make up some drama about how the family is mistreating him by not giving him royal jewels/private jet/whatever. He’ll also sue the tabloids for some perceived slight. That should bring in enough income to support their lifestyle. Oh, the made-up role should also come with security, and the family should protect him from the tabloids who will be constantly accusing him of corruption and misuse of government funds. Oh, and none of his income should be taxed in the UK. Easy peasy.

[t4tpumpkinduo]

No longer need to use anon hii ^_^ Okay, do you have specific heacanons about their species? Like how the work, if theres a culture behind it? They could share eachothers cultures.. And how different or similar is there relationship in Manburg vs Las Nevadas?

OMG HIII and yes i'm glad, i rlly appreciate yr qs :'[ tysm fr giving me the chance to yap abt these freaks its been YEARS. ok iwill start now

so first my hot take is cschlatt is a mixed king i think she's half sheep half goat. let me explain 🤚 do not interrupt me

well firstly, i just think it's kinda moe cuteness adorable and plays into his duality...i think her ma was a brown sheep, and his dad was a white goat and his hair ended up kinda swirled because of it. and up until revival brute forced white hair on her and made her confront stuff (and revival hair isn't dyeable to me), he'd dye it full brown regularly bcs his relationship w his dad was normal and healthy don't worry abt it don't worry stop asking questions. she's a clearly normal ram.

also uhhh. To support my claim, and this is meta knowledge, but i do think it's interesting tht even ccschlatt the guy will call his character a goat sometimes, does not disuade ppl who call him that in rp even though one of cschlatt's main character traits is the way he'll stand up for himself/hates being percived in a way he doesn't want, which means it mustn't be that srs to be called that in the first place, and also promotes rammie merch w goat emoji even though ram ones DO exists. 🤨 it's almost like he wants annoying microbloggers to dig into it too much. something to think about.

fr cq obvs he's a duckie primarily, some manner of patito but i also think he's part budgie and it fucked up his development in some way. idk, to me he has like. little claws he needs to file down which ducks do Not have, and he also just chirps which ducks do not do. his wings are yellow but if you fluff them up underneath you can see that it's a kinda dawny white, like they were SUPPOSED to grow more but just kinda stagnated, and that coloration is very common w budgies. not to mention those things are notoriously v small and weak and can die pretty easily so idk i'm sure that doesn't play into anything. mixed king who lost

for a culture thing i think uhhh. well i'm not sure if culture is the right word for what i'm going for but i'm not sure those things exist for me? i'm sure there's peoples, and i'm sure ancient avians have their own thing going on probably but most ppl are just some guy. like any guy who has an extra thing to upkeep. i do think cq cschlatt have some interesting seasoning to their hybridisms specifically however so:

ithink schlatt grew up in a v small town, w her and his family as the only Real hybrids which was also normal for him as a guy who takes being scrutinized and looked at differently very well. him niki n wilb were all besties, until wilb left to pursue his dreams of getting his dad to pay attention to him i mean getting his dad to pay attention to him i mean music. and then cniki and cschlatt had one of those weird toxic girl friendships breakups that fuck up their lives and leave them in resentment for years but they didn't know schlatt was a girl yet so it was extra weird for them. niki voice why are we having later to be thematically relevant tension you miserable asshole schlatt voice if you say anything else i'm gnna eat my own leg and you won't be able to stop me. so alas.

so he just didn't have that like...wider connection or interactions, and she ofc couldn't rely on her dad who probably ditched her and her sick ma when schlatts like. 13. so all the hybridism upkeep he knows, like upkeep and proper filing of his horns or polishing her hoovsies, come from his mama. horror sting. who dies not long after. wwell.

ithink cq also lacks a level of connection to wider bird hybrisisms bcs i don't think he ever had parents at all i think he just spawned. which is literally not uncommon in the mcyt world at all. but he had nobody to. teach him anything, so he just kinda lets his instincts guide him even tho tht doesn't work v well either.

ithink he was just a mildly feral street urchin type kid, yk stealing to eat that kinda thing and ended up being in and out juvie bcs of it at like. idk id say v young when he first got locked up, like 9 or smthng which is super insane but wht cn ydo.

(my other hc is tommy and cq know eachother frm juvie :] makes sense to me. cuz canonstyle ctommy is v fond of cq and cq of him before the smp even starts, and they make "jokes" abt peddling drugs together, right after cq talks abt being put on them in juvie, and is currently selling them to make money cuz he just got outta there. why do they both already know how to do this. guys who definitely made it insufferable in there)

and then on one of the times he gets away :] i think csam adopts him and loves him very much abt it even if cq more often than not pops in and out on account of the mc nature of the world. and cq definitely won't replay his kindness by accidently ruining his life. (REXHING AMD PUKGING.) but the guy is a creeper hybrid 👍 and not a bird. so he isn't really sure how to navigate that either and especially cuz cq is a shitty little shape shifter on top of it. smthing he is ALSO bad at and can't control v well or for v long w/o getting really fucked up from it. (guy who always loses) i never lose

scritches my head so yk general lack of upkeep type of guy. he doesn't know how to preen himself v well or v consistently, he doesn't get to his little claws fast enough so smtimes he just nips at them to stop from slashing someone's eye out by accident. but i do think he gets better at it eventually and nothing abt this fuckass evil server stops his progress either. guy who gets brutalized all the time to the point of severe scarring and nerve damage why am i on edge and hindered by scarring and nerve damage lolll 😅

anyways this got too edgy i'm cutting this off. the point is both these guys have probbles but what can you do in this bitch of a server. also the second question is so so good and swagiful and my response will be unspeakably long so i'm gnna resend that part to myself and answer it there ^_____^ 👍 on it's own post. yes thank you.

[yutafrita]

can u do a oneshot or drabble ?? about midnight rain or any taylor swift song w jaemin/mark

Omg thank you for this! I've been hoping to get a song related request lol. I typically don't write for Mark and I am working on a Jaemin fic, so I took this as a challenge. It's not long, but I hope you like it! Thank you so so much :,)

I decided to go with Dress if that's okay- would definitely love to do this again!

Word Count: <900

You had been best friends with Mark since you were in diapers. Your family homes were right across the street from each other, and you went from playing in sandboxes together to going to high school and university together.

“How’s work been?” You asked your best friend one day after popping into his apartment. As adults, you lived right across the hall from each other and had a key to each others apartment.

“It’s been great! Our firm was actually invited to an Attorney’s Gala,” Mark chirped. “Do you wanna come with?”

“Of course. Who else did you drag with you to all those Barrister’s Balls?” You laughed.

You had also been in love with Mark since diapers. He was always handsome, sweet, and a little oblivious- well, a lot oblivious actually.

You had asked him to be your date for the elementary school Valentine’s Day dance. He was missing his two front teeth at the time, and he smiled in reply with, “of course silly! We’re best friends!”

You had asked him to be your date for your freshman year homecoming dance, and with his teeth returned he responded with, “of course silly! We’re best friends!”

The next three homecomings you and Mark started to date people, but for your senior prom you both were single. You had asked him again, to be your date, and he sung in reply, “of course silly! We’re best friends!”

You were at your job a few days before the attorney's gala, groaning about your love life to your friend in their office.

"Have you ever told him... directly... about your feelings?" Giselle asked as she handed you some forms of hers to sign.

"I thought I was clear... like... when we went to prom I wore the perfect outfit to show off my... assets... and all but threw myself at him."

"Well, maybe you should wear a dress that still shows off your stuff, but maybe directly tell him?"

You knew she was right, you weren't dumb. You knew you were avoiding being direct because of your outright fear of rejection, but, if he had never made a move before, maybe you should just take that as a sign of itself?

You were glaring at yourself in your living room mirror. You had thrifted a beautiful dress that you had given a bit of extra love and care to- a sage, bell sleeved floor length dress with a deep V neck cut and shimmering tulle that split into a flattering slit. You felt beautiful, and it fit you exactly how you wanted it to. Yet, you didn't feel your best.

Mark was going to the gala directly after work, so you met him in front of the hotel that evening.

His eyes were wide and whistled when he saw you, "wow, don't ditch me for some guy now!"

You forced a smile, entering the gala and meeting a few of his coworkers, all the while introducing yourself as his best friend. You had downed about three glasses of wine when Mark asked you to dance, and with a raised eyebrow you agreed.

"You really look great," he complimented, having to nearly shout the compliment into your ear over the blaring orchestral band.

"You look pretty great too," you complimented in return. The suit he wore was a deep green, and felt so soft against your skin as you clumsily twirled on the dance floor. Mark was always handsome, but this night in particular had his eyes set in a soft brown hue under the chandelier lighting that made him look godly.

You loved him. It hurt.

"Not as good as you."

The three glasses of wine made you bold, and his repetition in awe of you emboldened you even more. You were tired of the pining and the ache in your chest. So, leaned closer to his ears, and whispered so only he could hear, "you should see how I look without it."

You disinflated when you pulled back, Mark's expression completely blank except for his eyes being the widest you've ever seen him. Your mouth hung open, and you prepared to immediately take it back, make a joke and hope he can forget about it.

"Word?" he asked, giggling like a high schooler. You froze, stopping in your dance to burst out laughing, the two of you earning confused looks from Mark's peers until you scooted off the dance floor, still clutching your stomachs.

"So, is that offer still up?" he asked once you calmed down, the full weight of your words finally sitting your shoulders.

"Hmmm, I'm not sure that's something to do with your best friend," you taunted, taking a sip from a glass of champagne you swiped. Quickly, and without warning, Mark's hands caught both of your cheeks squeezing your face lovingly.

"Silly- there's no one else I'd rather do... anything with."

Permatag! @nini0620

[rt-lots]

Joining in on the Ian and Rammy ask train… 🌂✏️ (and 🍎 specifically for Ian!)

TW for a fair bit of suicide talk!!!

umbrella - i assume this doesnt need an answer for both of them, bcuz they belong 2 the same story. i imagine ian and rammys story being a vidya game, and i guess itd b a psychological horror? which feels like, pretentious to say but the main scaries of the story are how much ians life sucks and he wants 2 die. so... i think itd count. thats all overarching stuff tho... most of ian n rammys time spent together is lightheared, i think. theyre two dudes hanging out and one of them is slowly coming to terms with the fact his suicidal thoughts won. whatever genre that is

pencil - WAHHH it depends a lot of the time... ian and rammy have definitely made a big resurgence in my brain recently (past month) bc im 18 and can post bout em, but also just cuz i love them sooo much and want to chew on them constantly. id say i write abt/draw them pretty frequently tho!! i doodle them on my school work and in notebooks a lot and they have some of the bigger galleries on my toyhouse lawl. i dont write much directly for their universe, but ive typed... many paragraphs to my friends just braindumping the shit i think about them. so, yeah, less often than id like, but theyre up there in my priorities of ocs :3

apple (for ian) - GRAHHHHHHHHHHH u dont know what demons uve unleashed w this. i already twed this post for suicide but im gonna move this part under the cut bc mentioning ians dad specifically ties a lot into the suicide aspect of the story

OKAY SO. ians family consists of his mom, sister, and him. his dad was in the picture when he was a little kid, like early elementary age, but ditched after some time. his relationship with both parents was relatively normal, they definitely couldve done a better job raising him, but they were never intentionally hurtful nor did they scar him at all. (well, correction, his MOM didnt scar him at all)

after ians dad left, though, his side of the family still kept in touch... they gave very flimsy reasonings for his fathers absence, why he couldnt make it to holidays, why he wasnt saying all these things directly, etc. it kept things strained and tense as the family knew things were being kept from them but never got to know why. the last interaction ian ever had w his dads side of the family was on his 18th birthday, where his uncle gifted him a silver handgun with his name carved into the handle. it was a hollow attempt to connect with ian, a display of violent masculinity that ian would later use to try and take his own life.

i dont have it fully figured out what this *means* for ians character, but its something i go insane about. ians only memories of his dad are him doing stereotypical masculine dad things w him, like fishing. maybe he didnt interact w ian ass if he was his child, but if he was his son, and that improper socialization is part of the reason he hates himself- why the gun is what kills him. but... i dunno really. ians social anxiety, addiction, and general collapsing in on himself are cuz of a life time of mental illness that went unchecked until he successfully isolated himself to the point no one *could* care, not just cuz daddy give him gun.

okay! that is NOT what u asked at all but now u know it. hehehe. of course ian and rammys story is a big wip forever so excuse me for any side tangents and/or general plot points w loose ends

but! as for his actual relationships w family (ill include sister since his relationship w mom isnt rlly fleshed out yet):

he and his mom havent spoken in 6 years, nor have he and his sister. he slowly faded out of their lives when he moved away, partly out of a subconscious desire to isolate and partly due to just not having the social confidence or energy to maintain regular communication w his family. his mom is the first person he talks to when he escapes his Puter, and she's his rock in his remaining months of recovery. shes very underdeveloped as a character atm, but what is certain is she tries her hardest to understand her sons struggles and support him, offering to pay for therapy for him. ian loves his mommy lalala

ian and his sister are... dddifferent. ian also had an average relationship w his sister, but shes a lot more upfront with him when it comes to talking about how his 6 year absence effected her than their mom. their mom, while wanting her children to seek help for their respective struggles, doesnt really want to actively talk about those things with them. shes terrified of saying the wrong thing, and it doesnt help that she doesnt even have a clue what *to* say. ians sister, though, isnt afraid to tell him "hey man we fucking missed you. your absence hurt a lot because i didnt have any friends either, and i wish we couldve had eachother. jackass" post main-story they are friendly and hang out. during his time w rammy, ian does talk about his thoughts on his sister before he left, that being that shes a "crazy bitch"... family <3

[hukkelberg]

if they didn't want to go the queen route, they already made cressida a big aspect of this season and a more sympathetic character - why not have her and pen work together and contrive a solution that way? there was a consistent emphasis on cressida's difficult family situation and that one scene where cressida genuinely reacts to debling talking about his family struggles happens in front of pen, most observant woman alive. then that moment would mean something as opposed to amounting to nothing. the lack of pen-cressida interaction was criminal imo when they not only already have a contentious relationship, are in direct competition for the same man for the same reason (escaping their families), are kind of competing when it comes to eloise as well (and have been competing for her in the past since cressida has tried to befriend eloise before), and now share similar character beats when it comes to their families. idk i have an image in my head of them arguing and cressida saying something about el ditching pen in favor of her and pen asking how it feels to be a subpar replacement for an insipid wallflower. also, tho i hate it generally, the handwaving of fatphobia could make the question of why cressida targeted pen specifically interesting. even their moms were presented as at least friendly in s1, more than we've seen portia be w anyone outside her household w/o any obvious ulterior motive. for the sake of transparency i do have to admit that every thought i have about pen and cressida is strongly influenced by me thinking about how funny it would be if pen and cressida had a v ill-advised fling a la teen dramas everywhere having gay characters date their former bully who is actually just repressed then thinking about it too much. the bridgerton writers missed the funniest opportunity they had to throw in an overused trope.

EXACTLY!!!!! i literally said!!! you guys are on the SAME boat. it's time for the collab!!! my gooood. it seems craaaazy to me to take this fraught relationship, so antagonistic and an overt source of pen's difficulty in socialization, and then... do nothing with it. it wasn't even personal? cressida finding out and coming after her just? wasn't personal? at all? insane to me. i think all of our sensitizing to cressida's situation should've been done through penelope and it would've made the whole situation that much more stronger. because she is a good person, you know? but is she a good enough person that she would help the girl who's made her life miserable for god knows how long? and why HAS she made penelope miserable? we got nothing about THEM and their relationship, and in a season which focused and expanded so much on these two characters, ignoring that previously established connection is wild.

the gay stuff would've been funny. frankly i would've eaten it up too lmao. not really bridgerton's vibe, but like, if we DID make cressida gay (she's so high femme it's funny) penelope being like. the source of that awareness of something being "wrong" with her is just. admittedly low hanging fruit but GOOD fruit, you know? and it'd support the idea that people who SEE pen, who have the willingness to take her in as she is (unlike the ton), are very immediately confronted with the fact that she can be gorgeous and desirable and kind, and cunning and shrewd and petty. like a real person, yeah? not just one facet of her.

[doebt]

also this is so asshole of me but i am seriously like on the verge of a totsl freaking meltdown like socially . like i just want to sit alone in a room COMPLETELY ALONE by MYSELF no other human interaction for like. 48 straight hours. my introvert gene is jumping out

[yharnamesque]

The Failed Evacuation and Protection of Yharnam

We’ve all seen how much of a mess Central Yharnam is. The destroyed carriages, the heaps of luggage, horse corpses and dozens of caskets littering the streets. The clear signs of a town that has lost hope of trying to get out with their lives and resigned themselves to wasting away indoors and waiting to see if whoever remains can get rid of the beasts. But a big question is why are all these things strewn about in the first place?

For the longest time, my belief has been that at some point before the beginning of the game, the common Yharnamites realised how deep in trouble they truly were and decided to make an evacuation attempt. Even with their addiction to the blood and years of indoctrination by Healing Church propaganda, the constant deaths and nights of beasts flooding the streets became too much and people realised that they needed to get out

Families packing up their belongings and leaving them ready to be picked up by any carriages out that might’ve had space. People on the upper levels working together to help get their stuff down to the main roads so they weren’t left behind. And of course the most important part of all; bottling up as much of that sweet siren song as they could because why would you risk leaving the best thing in your life behind when you’ve clearly got the space for it? These people were ready to go, they had accepted they would have to uproot their lives and leave their homes behind in order to escape the nightmare that their beloved Yharnam had become

But evidently it didn’t work. Some people might have managed to escape if they were lucky enough to be part of the first waves, but the vast majority didn’t

Whether they just weren’t fast enough or they decided too late to try and get out, the presence of the beasts became too overwhelming for it to be safe to make any further attempts. Those beginning to lose themselves to the transformation would also have been a contributing factor, and I wouldn’t be surprised if some had ended up turning on their loved ones in the middle of trying to leave. Hence resulting in everything needing to be ditched immediately to allow a chance for the people to safely get back into their houses

For the survivors, the only thing left they could do was try and protect themselves, try and reduce numbers and continue to do some form of cleanup

While I’m sure at least some of these structures were already part of Yharnam’s architecture, such as the larger gates on the underside of the Great Bridge, I’m more inclined to believe the smaller gates and ladder mechanisms were added later on in an attempt to try and at least make it more difficult for the beasts to spread further. Segmenting parts of Yharnam would make daytime cleanup easier as the hunters could deal with a single section at a time and making sure it was absolutely safe before moving onto the next

The ladders could be used as a main way to reach the upper streets since the pathways and stairs leading up would most likely have to be blocked off in one way or another. It wouldn’t stop the beasts that are capable of scaling the blockades or even the ones that figured out how to climb the outsides of the buildings, but it would at least slow them down enough that only a couple would be able to get through at a time and could be easily dealt with

Eventually it all kept degrading to the point we find it in. Beasthood kept advancing in those who patrolled the streets to keep them clean and it resulted in those closed off parts never becoming safe enough to open up again. They built their pyres and continued to lose themselves as they, perhaps instinctively, walked the paths they had when they were still lucid, cutting down whoever they didn’t recognise

It’s a shame because these methods of protection were actually working to a degree. It’s not even because what they put in place was poorly built, since we know that heavy reinforced door is more than enough to keep the brick troll huntsman from getting through even with all his pounding. They just didn’t put any of it in place fast enough, or implement enough of it, and it played a part in their downfall

[zoekrystall]

Ok I'm back and Normal™ again. Nonetheless rant again whoops (covid and family stuff at the end bc fuck my relatives)

The trains back were full which was agony but at least by then it was different. Also I was nice 1h is wrong it's like 2h to and 2h back. 4h travel in often than not packed trains for short appointments yay. Even forced socializing combats it. Was nonetheless oh so fun having to traveling while the oktoberfest made it worse bc as if germany learns shit 🙃. I care so little abt that thing since forever I forgot that happened. Not as if it's that much better but I will so someday move to a different state. I can absolutely not w bavaria in countless aspects.

Anyways I also absolutely fucking hate how people try to push me out bc if covid/health wasn't a gigantic concern that I cannot push aside then I would love to travel to the city! I love to socialize w friend by going to restaurants or the cinema or just strolling around places! I love meeting people in person and do stuff. But alas. Not every cautious person is someone who rather stays inside anyways. And even if no-one wants to not see people in person all year round. I went to the cinema w friends prior a lot prior to 2020. Also people do meet there are measurements it's not all or nothing. I would write more if it wasn't a personal post I won't waste energy explaining or preaching stuff bc like if you follow me you're anyways cautious. Just blowing steam off bc ffs am I tired everytime anyone tells me anything in that regard. I primarily hate how people that don't know me well try to once again paint me as someone who hates like every irl human interaction possible and doesn't ever go outside (my mother included bc she never bothered).

Also while I'm at it I am not suprised my aunt voted the nazi party. Who would have guessed the woman I had an argument with over dinner years ago abt how a patient shouldn't be treated by black people bc "that old woman is old and has dementia and fears them" and how I said in short that that racist patient just has to suck it up bc bigotry is never justified. I am so glad I never decided to live by her and man did I ever say that my grandma victimized herself constantly bc she said I was arguing with her purely bc I didn't go along w her racist or otherwise ableist views and made me homeless bc of that (she knew I absolutely did not want to go back home bc of my mom's partner. alas I am back here but it's survivable now at least). All of them can go die in a ditch. When I had covid once did I nonetheless try to not infect them bc that makes you an asshole and fuck did they make it hard why the fuck do people willingly want to get infected. I really hope my cousin is doing well bc she already had it multiple times and I don't wish that on anyone and she's at least better from what I know. But alas having contact with any relative will be unwillingly tied to see my grandma again and maybe even my aunt so nope it is. Save to say I will not let them help w this house once it belongs to me I do not even want them in the radius of this place.

My anger is primarily at my aunt and grandma bc I think my first cousin is fine my sec cousin did I kinda grow apart w (had a kinda sibling relationship with those two as kid. was fun) and third cousin like sorry but don't really care. The third likes elon and others similar and that is all I need to know aka no thanks. Also I know the most abt my aunt and grandma bc older people love to talk abt their bad political views and spew racist stuff. Oh wow they accept me as a queer kid but that doesn't do shit when I had to make my grandma not say the n word in what 2020 or 2021 and often hear racist or ableist stances. I don't fucking care if anyone is queer or a queer ally when they hate other groups and I hate how a lot of white people don't give a damn abt that. Esp if racist or ableist. Quit calling queerphobes delusional/narcissists/psychopath/etc or I will maul you. Anyways I bet that place would be a nightmare to live in reg how much palestine gets smeared as bad in the media. Never again my ass.

Rant. Hate traveling to the city so much.

I need to get to the big city today and I am this fucking close to biting and going feral. Why the fuck do you wait by the door so much prior to the destination coming leave me the fuck alone you people had sit places. And of course no-one wears a mask so not suprised. Get away. And also of fucking course this train system is useless as fuck and I come 20 minutes at min later to my appointment and if that isn't fine then I'm going to go feral for real I'm already so done. If selfish people wouldn't be assholes could I maybe at least eat or drink between leaving and coming back home but I'm not risking shit. Fucking hate here man I wonder why I either barely go out or if exclusively with other people and then this is the state and I remember. The coughing just adds I don't want anymore. If anyone starts to sit next to me without a mask will I have even more bloodlust. If I'm lucky I get cozy and turn into snuggle cat mode once home and if not will I have to sleep again bc otherwise I will be unable to function for anything bc only one emotion is allowed to exist until sleep reset.

[dollslayer]

Botanical Interest - In Bloom

Soft!Mob!Steve Rogers x florist!Reader

Summary: Steve comes home to you angry after a rough day at work. He made a promise to keep his work life separate but can he keep it?

W/C: 4,103

Warnings: Angst, mentions of past abuse, smut, swearing, alcohol consumption

A/N: Hi there! A part three for our soft mob Steve and his lovely florist. Thank you so much to everyone that has shown interest in my work so far, if you like it please reblog and comment!! You can also check out my other stuff if you haven't yet. Cheers!

Botanical Interest Masterlist I Main Masterlist

_____________

When Steve Rogers had asked you to be his girlfriend you knew there was a weight attached to it. A long talk over a stack of waffles and a couple of beers left Steve with a ‘yes’ and some ground rules.

After the incident in the alleyway you both agreed that he left his work at the door whenever you spent time together. Steve’s profession has made you uneasy since you met him and you two couldn’t avoid it forever.

A month later and you’ve managed to avoid conflict for the most part. Nothing as bold as that day in the alley, just small moments where he’d have to take a phone call, once when he had to cancel your plans for a ‘work incident’. But still he really was trying to keep his work and personal life separate and you appreciated it.

It had bothered you that he had to do those things but it’s not as though your work hadn’t impacted your time together either. Being a florist meant a lot of late nights when you worked events. Wedding season in full swing, every weekend was a busy one for you.

That’s why Monday’s have become almost sacred to you, your one day off a week. You and Steve always spent time together, sometimes you’d go out or stay home and just relax.

This Monday Steve had promised to come over and make you dinner. He’d only ever tried to cook for you once and it had ended with a lasagna burnt so badly you had to open every window in the apartment just to get the charred smell out. You couldn’t wait for him to redeem himself and take him to bed after you both came out of your food comas.

You were cleaning the kitchen when you heard your phone buzz. You had asked Steve if he wanted you to pick up any groceries since you had the day off. Expecting a list you were met with mild disappointment.

Running a little late, doll. 6:30 and not a minute later, I promise. Don’t worry about groceries. I'll get it all taken care of, just enjoy your day off.

You were kinda miffed but at least he gave you a heads up and he was going to get the groceries. You picked your sponge back up and scrubbed away at the counter.

________

Expecting to be let down, you were pleasantly surprised when 6:30 rolled around and your doorbell sounded. You buzzed him up and waited patiently for him at your door.

Steve appeared as he rounded the corner and he looked exhausted, irritated maybe. He carried a lot of tension in his shoulders and his suit jacket was long gone. His tie was undone and his sleeves were rolled up to where you could see well toned forearms. You bit your lip thinking of those arms holding you in place in bed.

Maybe we should just ditch the dinner and skip straight to dessert.

He approached you and you leaned up to give him a kiss.

“Hi, honey. How are you?” You greeted him as you shut the door behind you.

He set the groceries down onto the counter with some force and you winced. Okay so he did have a rough day. Do I ask him about it? I don’t wanna talk about his work but I don’t want him to feel like he can’t talk to me about his day.

He sighed and turned to face you, took his tie off completely and ran a hand through his hair.

“Don’t worry about it” he responded as he took a beer out of your fridge.

You were off-put by the abruptness of his answer. Maybe he was just short with you because he didn’t want to talk about work.

You stepped closer and tried to approach him again.

“I-“

“I said don’t worry about it.” Steve snapped, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and swiped the screen, visibly annoyed. “I gotta take this”. He slammed the door to your bathroom shut behind him and left you stunned in the middle of your kitchen.

What just happened? You had never seen him so upset aside from when you caught him mid-punch a month ago with Mr. Andersen.

Realistically you knew it wasn’t you he was mad at but you’d never done well with people when they were mad at you. You were engaged years ago to a man that was abusive towards you. Things had started off well like they always do but he became manipulative and he was quick to anger. You were constantly questioned and criticized. He kept you from seeing your friends, even some of your family. It took your friends coming through for you to get you out of the situation safely. Through lots of therapy and flinging yourself headfirst into your business you’ve come a long way but sometimes you had difficult moments.

It couldn’t be helped as your heart began to quicken and you felt heat come to your face from the embarrassment of being snapped at. Unsure what to do you poured yourself a glass of wine and sat down at your small dining table facing away from the bathroom.

You were trying to get yourself to not shut down in response to his change in mood but it was hard. He’s upset and clearly irritated with me already, he probably just wants to go home. Maybe you should just reschedule. Don’t cry, if you cry you’re gonna make it a whole Thing. Don’t cry. He’s not mad at you specifically and it’s not your fault.

In the torrent of your thoughts you didn’t hear the bathroom door open. Steve hadn’t spared you a glance or a word as he started unloading the groceries. Angrily placing a jar of pasta sauce onto your counter with a thud and muttering under his breath. You watched him timidly and took another sip of your wine.

He turned to you and took another swig of his beer.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that? What did I do?” He challenged.

Not wanting him to be upset with you, you devolved into old ways of over-explaining so you could justify your actions. Somewhere in the back of your mind, the rational part was telling you it’s not your fault he’s angry and you don’t owe an explanation but you were too far gone.

“I, I just, you didn’t do anything you just, um, you just looked upset. I don’t want to make it worse, I’m sorry. I was just looking at you, I didn’t mean to-”

You were cut off in the midst of your nervous rambling by the shrill ring of Steve’s phone. A frustrated growl escaped his mouth.

“I have to take this,” he muttered as he strode back to the bathroom. “I told you not to call me until you had it fixed” you heard him before the closing of the door muffled his anger.

He left you there to stew in your nervousness and self loathing. Five minutes had gone by and the rational part of your brain was slowly taking over. The rational part of your brain was angry. It’s okay for him to have a bad day and not want to talk about it but the way he’s spoken to you and responded to you isn’t warranted. You needed to confront him calmly and if he was still angry you needed to ask him to leave. You can talk to him another time but not while he’s angry. It won’t do anyone any good. Just like you’ve talked about in therapy.

You rehearsed the lines in your head and finished your glass. You heard the door open again and almost threw everything you had been going over in your head out the window. Just breathe. It’s fine, he calmed down so quickly after that time in the alley, he’ll understand.

_____

Steve was angry. With Clint for getting the dates of Pierce’s arrival wrong, with Sam for failing to get the recon they needed to get the drop on him. Even angrier with Bucky for taking all of this out on him when it wasn’t even his fault. But most of all he was angry with himself for letting his work get in the way of your time together. He promised you undivided attention and you deserved it.

He knew how important your day off was to you and after the day he’d been having he couldn’t wait to just come back to you. He just wanted to make some decent spaghetti and melt the worries of his day off with your embrace. He craved the physical comfort he got from you after a long day. The feeling of endlessly sinking into your arms while you held him in bed allowed him to be the vulnerable one for once. He never felt comfortable enough with any of the other women he’d dated to even entertain the idea of being the little spoon.

He always suspected that who he was at work was almost the only reason any of the other women had even gone out with him. Who he was at work was almost a front for the art-loving, touch-starved, hopeless-romantic that he was when he let himself relax. They’d all just wanted this big burly man who was always in charge, a walking wall of muscle and testosterone that they had seen and heard of him to be when he was on the job. But when he was on his own time he just wanted to feel comfort more than anything.

He just wanted to melt into you.

That’s why he was eager to get to you today but the constant calls were cutting him to his last nerve. Bucky was out with Natasha and her parents so he specifically asked not to be called. Being the boss, Bucky was not to be bothered. Being second in command, Steve was.

When he hung up with Clint he exited the bathroom and walked straight past you without a word, knowing you didn’t want to hear about work and talking about it would just make him angrier. He started unloading the grocery bag with maybe a bit more vigor than was necessary.

Remembering he had opened a beer that was probably warm by now he turned to you and grabbed it off the table you were sat at. At this moment he looked up and you had this look on your face he couldn’t quite place. He wanted to know what was up so he asked but you just ended up stammering out a response that didn’t make much sense.

He was trying to listen to you, he really was but he just couldn’t work around this building anger, couldn’t let it go. So of course his phone rings again. And of course he takes it. Excusing himself and locking the bathroom door behind him again he was already forming how to lay into his men on the other line without raising his voice and alarming you too much.

“I told you not to call me unless you had it fixed” he seethed into the receiver. Steve pounded his fist against the porcelain of your sink in aggravation. “I’m not fucking coming down there tonight. I shouldn’t have to be taking fucking phone calls to solve this kinda shit when I’m with my girl. Lose their tail, re-track them, and we’ll deal with the rest in the morning. Don’t call me again unless someone fucking gets shot”, Steve hung up abruptly and took a deep breath.

He wasn’t even sure what he was going to say to you so he just waited a minute to collect himself. He took another deep breath and readied himself to go back to you.

_________

You were sitting quietly at the table, silently digging your nails into your palm as you tensed your fist. Steve had exited the bathroom and taken a seat across from you. You decided to see if he’d speak first and waited.

A beat of silence and you sighed deeply, readying yourself to talk to him like you’d planned.

“Steve, I understand you’re having a bad day and it’s probably work related. That being said, just because you’re mad at someone else doesn’t mean you get to take it out on me” You blew out a shaky breath, wanting to finish before you lost your nerve and before he interjected. You didn’t dare make eye contact. Only stared at his hands on the table in front of you.

“If- if you’re mad don’t take it out on me, and if you feel like you can’t control that anger I don’t want you around me while you feel that way. If you want to talk through it or just work past it then I’m here. But if you’re going to snap at me again and just be mad then you need to leave. It’s not fair to me.”

I’m pretty sure Dr. Danforth would be fucking proud of me right now. Straight to the point but respectful, just like we talked about. And even if Steve’s mad, you’re in control. You’re doing great.

You braved a peek at his face at this point and he looked stunned himself. He’s probably never been spoken to like that in his life, being the second in command and all. You watched his brows bunch together in what you hoped was thought and not frustration for you and waited for him to speak.

________

Oh. Steve was a little struck by what you’d said. Have I been that bad? She’s shaking like a leaf, of course I must have been that bad. He’d had no idea that he even snapped at you, that’s how wrapped up in his own business and his head he was. He never meant to take it out on you, didn’t even realize he had. Sometimes it was like he was so deep into his work life he couldn’t take himself out of it. But he wanted to try, for you.

He remained silent while he pulled the chair across from you out and took a seat. He looked up to meet your gaze only to find you staring at your hands. You were digging your nails into your palms so he brought one large warm hand to cover yours and brought the other up to your face gently to get you to look at him. You flinched away from him and he felt another strike of surprise, but also maybe a hint of shame. Is she afraid of me? Normally Steve likes when people are afraid of him, makes his job easier, but he’d never want that from you.

“Sweetheart”, Steve’s voice was just above a whisper when you finally looked up at him.

“I’m… sorry, that’s really it I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to take it out on you. I didn’t even realize I did.” He apologized.

____________

You could feel your tears subsiding and finally brought yourself to look at him. He looked just as exhausted before, just a little bit more sad. You imagined it was probably easy for him to get swept up in who he was at work so it must be hard to separate himself from it since it requires so much from him. You don’t want him to feel bad for being upset, you just want him to be more aware of himself and to not take things out on you.

“Steve, I know we said you wouldn’t talk about work when we’re together but I don’t want you to feel like you can’t talk to me if you have a bad day. Maybe you can keep it vague but I don’t want you to feel like you can’t say anything or be yourself, unless of course you don’t want to, I don’t want to force you to talk about anything either. When you snapped at me I just sorta shut down” You explained.

Steve seemed to be processing your words and forming a response when he took your hand in his to stop your nails from ripping into your palms like they often do. He nodded and took a breath.

“You have no idea how much it means to hear that from you, thank you. Just for the record, I never feel like I can’t be myself with you, it’s opposite, really. When I’m with you I get to drop all that bullshit at the door. Girls in the past have just wanted me because I was scary but seeing the way you flinched just now, I don’t ever want you to feel scared of me.” Steve confessed.

Maybe it’s time to tell him about the engagement, let him know where you’re coming from. You blew out a shaky breath and looked away from him again.

“I, um, I’m not scared of you. Years ago I was engaged to a man and things were really bad, he was really bad. I’m not ready to talk about all of it but that’s why I shut down on you when you snapped. I’ve been through a lot of therapy and I’m still working on it, but I’m not afraid of you. Sorry I didn’t tell you earlier, it’s… kind of a sore subject” you admitted.

Steve’s nostrils flared and his grip on your hand tightened a little but you could tell he was trying everything he could to school his features and reply to you.

“I… didn’t know that I’m sorry.” he said as he ran his thumb over your knuckles. “If you ever wanna talk about it more, I’m here. And if you don’t, I understand.”

You stood from your chair and came around behind him to throw your arms around his neck. You kissed his cheek and rested your head against his.

“Thank you for listening and apologizing. I forgive you. And if you wanna talk about your day then I’m here.” You assured him.

Steve turned his head to capture your lips in a soft kiss which you reciprocated. Steve stood to his full height without breaking the kiss and brought his hands up to frame your face. The warmth was comforting again to you. Your tongue slipped into his mouth and he elicited the softest of sighs before returning your passion.

He broke the kiss while his hands explored your curves. “I want to make it up to you, will you let me do that, sweetheart?” he asked.

You could only look up at him with eyes blown wide with lust and affection. You nodded and he kissed you swiftly before leading you to your bedroom. You were holding his hand when he let go and softly urged you backwards onto the bed. You obliged and soon he was on top of you laying feather-light kisses to the column of your neck.

Your hands mussed his hair and smoothed out the tension in his shoulders as you held onto him. He kissed his way lower and lifted up the hem of our shirt and kissed his way back up to your breasts. You sat up slightly and took off your top and unhooked your bra, letting it fall before throwing it to the side. Steve took turns taking your nipples between his teeth and teasing them, licking and kissing them. He knew it always made you squirm and would build the anticipation before you could even touch him.

“Steve, please.” You whined.

Wordlessly he kissed and bit his way lower and undid your shorts. You arched your back to help him remove them along with your panties. Steve wasted no time and administered the smallest of licks to your clit. You gasped slightly at the feeling when you felt two fingers prodding your entrance before going in. Your body was getting accustomed to the initial wave of pleasure brought on by Steve’s movement and slowly you ground your hips against his hand and cried out softly.

Normally Steve would never let that fly, he was always so controlling and dominant in bed but tonight was different. Tonight was soft and he was making it up to you, showing his love in a physical way. So he let you push him deeper and raise your hips just so to reach the perfect angle. You felt yourself tighten around him and this is the point he usually slows down just to drag things out but your loud cries only fueled him as he doubled his efforts. With a final cry you came around his fingers, white heat blinding your vision momentarily.

You caught your breath and looked down at Steve. His beard was absolutely drenched and he sucked his fingers clean. You could almost cum again just from the sight of it. He wiped his mouth on a tissue before returning to you to give you a kiss. You tasted yourself on him but you didn’t care, you just wanted his mouth on yours. You felt his erection pressing against your thighs and it had you squirming all over again. You reached to undo his belt when he stopped you.

“This night is supposed to be about you, doll. I’ll be fine” He protested.

You shook your head at him. “I want you, all of you. Please, Steve”, you begged.

He nodded and undid his belt. You helped undress and when he was finally naked you felt the rush of heat to your core all over again, an itch you couldn’t scratch. You laid back further on the bed and soon he was above you, face inches from yours and one arm at the side of your head.

His cock nudged against your core and entered slowly to stretch you out. You moaned deeply and when he was all the way in he kissed you passionately and began moving. It didn’t take much for him to pick up the pace as he started to fuck you. He swore under his breath at the feeling of you.

“You’re so, so, good sweetheart. So fuckin’ good.” He praised.

His words made you keen as you let the feeling of him making love to you take you over completely. His lips grazed yours in between grunts and he moved one hand to your clit while the other cradled the back of your head. You held onto his shoulders tightly and sobbed out pleas for him to keep going. His thrusts picked up speed and so did his hand. You were so close to the edge and you could feel he was too.

“I love you” he panted out before his hips lunged forward into you one last time before he came inside of you.

The shock of his confession and his work on your clit triggered your second orgasm. It was powerful and had you clawing his back and gasping in pleasure. He’d never said that before. Did he mean it? You looked to him for the answer but his lips caught yours as he gave a few last lazy thrusts. He finally collapsed to your side and was heaving to catch his breath.

You both laid there basking in the afterglow of the makeup sex for a few minutes. You turned on your side to look at him. He was so perfect like this, so at ease.

“Did you.. Mean it? What you said?” You questioned nervously. You really wanted him to mean it.

He turned slowly to look at you and he was blushing. “Yeah, I did. I know it’s kind of soon and you don’t have to say it back, but I couldn’t help it. I love you” he confided.

“I love you too, I’m not just saying it cause I feel like I have to, I love you Steve Rogers. All of you.” you assured him.

The softest of kisses was laid on your lips. This moment with him was perfect.

“I can’t believe you love me. I’m so sorry about earlier. I feel so comforted when I’m with you, the last thing I want is to lose you. I promise I will do everything I can to never be like your ex. Ever. If I’m being a dick I want you to tell me,” He apologized again.

You were about to respond when his stomach let out the loudest groan. You both laughed as you sat up.

“I did promise you dinner. Unburned this time!” Steve pledged as he helped you gather up your clothes.

“That’s a promise I’m going to hold you to, Rogers.”

[choptop-sawyer]

Hi again 😎💫 im here to dig at ur brain again bcs i. M. Aaa sorry i just love ur stuff but. I have this kinda rly specific storyline type hc area and I'd love to hear any hcs you might get from it if its at all jr thing. But um I keep sometimes thinking back to the idea of kinda, vaguely growing up in the same area as the Sawyers, being childhood friends (and being stupid 2gether, running arount the countryside, ditching school & playing in corn fields) -

But then having to leave in your late teens to school / whatever (I mean 😎 my sappy ass also thinks abt mutual pining w Bobby but you know...... nearly unrelated.......)

Then, later on (Bobbys now Chop Top, Nubbins is..... dead I guess but also >:( maybe not, the family is up to being a mess etc) returning to town to take a break from work or whatever. N meeting up w the family again, i mean, oblivious to the bullshit they get up to but.... yk

This is a bit rambly i should probs have waited to sleep but I can't get the thought of returning to the Sawyer door wearing Bobbys tie dye sweatshirt that hr borrowed u years ago and all the impact of being a former family member bc u were also kind of an outsider or whatever but also the drama of leaving so uwu sksjd

This got so long. All i wanted to ask is: sawyer family headcanons for a childhood friend returning to town after being away for years. Rip.

THANK YOU FOR SENDING THIS god I love the image too of just standing in the doorway,, you're not home, you've changed a little bit, but you still fit into some of the old aspects you know so well they fit you and cover you.

Actually this is great because that fic that I swear exists has pretty much the same premise but!!! I can make this one less tragic than that one. 😎

(This is mostly Chop Top n you centric please don't mind)

Also this timeline is all fucky. I think that as soon as Chop came home from Vietnam the Sawyers had basically uprooted themselves and were living in North Texas because of the... Hardesty incident. But like can we pretend that that never happened they r still there in Newt? Just for this. (Hope you like it!)

Chop Top's Childhood Friend Returns

You don't think you would have turned out the way you did without the Sawyers.

They were the main element of your childhood, a mystery that you had to be a part of. A mystery, because they were closed off. Mistrustful. The sickness of small towns carried to the extreme, because they were mostly alone. The loneliness made them more miserable, the misery made them more isolated. A cycle, a legacy.

So it was a a miracle that you were even allowed to be apart of some of it, but you attribute that miracle to Bobby.

He seemed to think you were as much of mystery as what you thought the Sawyers were. Two kids looking through a small window into another world. But he liked that. He liked that you were something different, something new. From beyond that small world of loneliness that lived in the house.

You learned quickly that he had a desire for anything beyond that world. So he'd invite you out with him, when you were kids, to run free in the tall grass, when you got older, to drive with him to places unknown. He had a knack for finding these odd places, and he always brought you along with the music cranked up loud on the radio.

Bobby told you many times that he wanted to see the world. He had this lust for life that went beyond the restlessness of the young. He also said that he wanted to bring you along with him when he saw the world. You didn't ever mention how that always made your heart skip a beat when he said that.

Maybe you should have. But the past is the past and you can't change that.

You knew the other Sawyers too, but Bobby tended to avoid them sometimes. But occasionally, you got to hang out with them.

Nubbins was an enigma. You didn't think Nubbins was his real name. But that's the only one you heard from him, but the name situation was the least confusing thing. He was the most open person you knew. And yet you couldn't understand him, and decided at some point that you wouldn't ever. But he was fun. His energy was infectious, if he was filled with joy, you couldn't help but laugh with him too. That was Nubbins, so absent of any purposeful deceit that he was almost a mirror, you saw yourself around him, sometimes it was uncomfortable, but other times it was fun.

Bubba was the opposite. He seemed to be legitimately wary of you. Bobby once told you that Bubba didn't like to leave the house, ever. He stayed and did the chores. You wondered if he minded, being stuck with all the chores but Bobby said he didn't. It was comforting for him. Always having something set to do. You only saw him once. Nubbins had made him tag along when he needed him to hang some things from a tree. Bones from indeterminate animals, a clock with a nail through it. You don't think Nubbins actually needed Bubba to reach the branches (he climbed pretty well) but he just wanted his little brother to see his work. Bubba didn't make eye contact with you the entire time. He was wholly focused on his task of helping Nubbins. But he was gentle when he helped his brother, careful, and for that you liked him.

Drayton was... well. He was the one Bobby argued with the most. He was his brother, but with how much age between the two, it was almost hard to believe sometimes. Drayton was the one that everybody in Newt knew the most. People liked him well enough, but they said he was odd behind his back. He knew that. You don't think he trusted anything outside the insular world he and his family had existed in for years, and was at odds with Bobby because he didn't get why Bobby wanted anything to do with the world outside.

Oftentimes you would see Bobby after he and Drayton got into it. He'd be fuming, but he'd smile when he saw you. You'd leave with him whenever he came to you. These adventures were the most fun you had when you were there.

The other times you'd go off were when he'd convince you to skip school. Bobby never went himself. He didn't get the idea of all those kids sitting in classrooms for hours, doing nothing but writing and listening. Why do that when you can find things out for yourself? Get into some trouble? In his mind, he was saving you from a very boring thing.

You two knew the area around Newt well. The fields and the flat expanses were the best kind of playground. Your dreams were still set in them. A kind of sunshine filled melancholy.

Bobby told you things in the grass. His dreams yes, but his own thoughts. On music, on late night radio, on movies, on you. He perhaps thought of you as wonderful as voices on the radio, stars on the screen. He never told you that though. But your name was never far from his mouth when Bobby talked about the things he loved.

You and him loved each other as much as two kids who didn't know how to could. He was always on your mind now, with not much tangible objects to remember him with. A photograph taken by Nubbins, your faces blurred because you were laughing. A button, the pin on the back bent. A sweatshirt, which he tie dyed himself, and gave to you one night. The colors were faded. You never did get to return it.

The years away did nothing to lessen thoughts of him. No, they just blurred all together now, and the stream of the sunshine filled melancholy was almost endless. You needed a break. There was only one place you could think of that could help you with that.

So you came back. All things led back to this place eventually. Newt was dying, or dead. Didn't you see somewhere that when a ship went down, it took everything with it? You didn't want to stay for long. But you had to see all of them, you had to know that they were all not these strange figures you had dreamt up.

You went right to the house. You'd never actually been allowed inside, Bobby just always said something along the lines of 'Grandma and Grandpa are napping upstairs' or 'there's a mess' (never mind that he could care less usually about messes.) But you figured he had had a good reason. Maybe he was embarrassed.

When you knocked on the door, your heart was pounding. And that was all. Nothing happened, no indication that anyone was there. You waited, the sweatshirt was too hot but you didn't want to take it off.

Maybe you should come back another time. You were just about to turn around and leave when the door burst open, almost whacking you in the face. And there (you couldn't believe your eyes you couldn't this was a dream) he was.

Bobby had a hammer raised over his head, grinning, he was poised to swing it down, but then he saw you and he felt as if he was in a dream too.

It's been so long. He thought he made you up, a dream to carry him through misery, and you looked the part, even as you stood before him on the doorway. The light of the setting sun shone behind you, heat waves shimmered in the dusk, and you... you.

Facing each other, you stood, just staring. Over head the sky grew colorful, in the fields the grass whispered in the wind. Nothing had changed. Everything had changed. Bobby dropped the hammer and grabbed for your face, and he held it, fingers digging in so tight it hurt.

"H-hey you." He said, and fell to his knees, releasing your face. You numbly touched the marks his fingers left. Bobby still looked like a man who had seen a ghost.

You called his name, and his eyes looked lost, like he hadn't heard it in a long time. He looked up at you, and you could really get a good look at him. His face was leaner, he looked sickly and wiry, but his eyes were just as you remembered. You sank down to the porch to sit with him.

"Fuck... FUCK I didn't... I- I thought ya'd forgotten all about me... uh.. uhm. Fuck! I mean, r-really! Turnin' up out of the blue like you're some kinda... ghost or whatever... WHOA man... like, ya here to return m-my, my sweatshirt? You're wearin' it, you can keep it! You look better in it anyway... heh, fuck." He rambled on and on, hands tensing and twitching as if they were moving to touch you again, just to reaffirm your existence. Did he know how glad you were to see him? Did he know that you hadn't felt right for the longest time being away?

You forgot all about the sweatshirt, the hammer he had raised with a sadistic grin. You reached out and held one of his twitching hands, and he stilled and stopped talking. There was a peace now.

It didn't seem possible for your heart to feel this full. But it was. And by god, if this wasn't the best decision you made in your life to visit your old hometown, if only just for this moment.

Bobby stood, with your hand still in his, pulling you up. He smiled at you, and you knew you still loved him, and in your deepest heart, you knew he loved you too.

But this time around, maybe you and him could love each other right.

[gallpall]

canaan bubble redux as a womb for story/character arcs

I’m sure most of this has been posted about before but: ever since my initial read I’ve been obsessed with the gross bodily/gorey stuff in the Canaan redux and I wanted to organize some of my constant+chaotic thoughts!!

TM has said that a lot of the motifs/events in the bubbles are actually “Silent Hill stand-ins” for story elements and she hopes we pick up on stuff, so here’s my Attempt!

At the same time that Harrow’s mind is being made a tomb for Gideon Nav Wake’s subconscious is pulled in to act as a womb for certain plot elements right alongside it. The chronology/time period of HtN mimics a full nine-month gestation. There’s a lot of very literal imagery here (which is below the cut), but I also think we’re meant to see it as metaphorical: we’re able to glean some things about character arcs based on how everything in the bubble goes down.

I’m particularly interested right now in those ‘side’ characters in the bubble who aren’t actually dead, who barely appear in the bubble at all except to get summarily offed, all in very distinctive ways. Judith, Camilla, Palamedes, and Coronabeth.

(cw below cut for some pregnancy/insemination imagery, canonical body horror and gruesome bubble deaths rehashed)

First of all just some quotes showing some of the imagery that I’ve attributed to being Wake manifesting pregnancy trauma stuff (there’s possibly some of Harrow’s conception trauma here, too) seeping through, for the purposes of this line of speculation. 

This isn’t nearly all of it, but some things that stood out to me as possibly comparing Canaan House 2.0 to a functioning reproductive system:

(ch. 21) a “collection of large, rusted pipette needles” -- turkey basters?

(ch. 35) “great, slithering, pulsing tubes” which contain “whitish-pearl bubbled globules”-- this perhaps recalls ovaries/fallopian tubes, with the ‘globules’ being follicles produced by superovulation for insemination, or corpus luteum that supply progesterone to maintain a pregnancy.

(ch. 45) “stretched webs of organ [...] like nets of sticky venous spiderweb” --uterine walls, maybe; it’s all over the windows, totally encasing them in Canaan’s rooms, and arguably even contracting like a uterus would: “every so often they would tremble uncertainly and erupt in floods of bloody, foamy water.”

in the next pgh we get some more of the tools Wake would have used to conceive/upkeep the pregnancy: “pipettes, broken glass-fronted containers filled with dark fluid,” skeletons sitting atop piles of “capsules or pills” perhaps hormones/supplements. (also holding Drearburh tools, the way Wake’s skelly would have been doomed to do)

(ch. 43) “from that hole emerged a clattering pile of plex scope slides, the type you would preserve a cell sample between“ -- Wake would’ve had to carry out the IVF process for implantation, this also seems like apparatus for that

(ch. 47) there’s the “libation” Abigail uses to summon Wake which is... well. It’s a “thin, milky, whitish liquid pooled at the base, sluggish in the cold,” and the summoning involves a bunch of ‘come’ commands, which I think might be Muir making a very elaborate jizz-adjacent “silly buggers with the emissions” joke. 

Just a note, cause I’m hopeless about Pyrrwake: the Seconds’ quarters are almost completely preserved from the leaky body horror (though it’s still cold in there)--as if they represented a sanctuary in Wake’s subconscious. There are also letters in the nonagonal coffin room which spell out an anagram of “PYRRHA” (ch. 47).

So with all that in mind, I’d posit that the fake-ghost deaths are all metaphorical “rebirths” of various characters arcs for ATN. I haven’t delved into what this imagery might mean for Harrow or Gideon specifically because I know there’s a LOT and it’s probably above my theoretical paygrade (I would love for someone to tack on with that though!!) but I can talk about ‘side’ chars on a very big-picture level.

Judith’s simulacrum gets knocked off first (ch. 18); shot through the heart (both atria) while she and Marta’s ghost are trying to complete the winnowing trial. The Sleeper shoots her 7 more times after that, I guess partly just ‘cause she can, but Ortus notes that it seems like there was an element of "Anger” to it. It’s possible Wake wasn’t pleased to have someone messing around with Pyrrha’s lyctoral trial, infuriated that anyone would be attempting to replicate G1d/Pyr’s original downfall. She then ignores Marta entirely and climbs back in the coffin (now with the sword) once Judith’s out of the way.

[Marta’s] scarlet necktie looked redder too—by the time they’d gotten hold of Judith Deuteros the blood had dried hers nearly black.

Cohort red-and-whites being stained black with blood, like a certain high-collared BOE uniform... could be another little clue to Judith’s "heart” for the Emperor (and for Marta, and pretty much everything else she knew) being lost and her realigning--though not willingly, at least at first--with the other side.

Cam and Pal’s simulacrums are plainly executed (ch. 21), they have their “faces obliterated” each by a single gunshot, and it’s as if they just stood there and let it happen. In the bubble, “Harrow had never seen Sextus or Hect except from afar.” These simulacrums totally avoid having their features revealed to Harrow. I’m willing to bet their faces being obscured and then exploded is one of the clues we get to their eyes being swapped around the next time we see them in the epilogue and in ATN.

Regarding the twins: They are essentially non-extant in the bubble. Ianthe never appears because she’s still kicking and, in her own words, “doesn’t live alternate histories” (GtN ch. 15).

Coronabeth’s simulacrum scene (ch. 37) is SO vivid and cryptic. It fascinates me because it definitely is, in part, trying to tell us something poignant about the initiation of Corona’s “worse twin” arc in ATN.

[Corona] was turned away from Harrow, and her riot of hair—half-caught in a fillet, half-escaping—was soaking wet, a dark and crinkling amber in the rain. She was not fighting or arguing. She was still as a statue, and ready and waiting as a dog.

Sounds like the fake ghost preparing for that major shift in allegiance. Silas is the one to ‘dismiss’ her, with his “may the blood of your blood suffer,” which perhaps is a really Templar-y way of saying ‘now go wreck ianthe’s SHIT.’ When Harrow accuses him of sending Corona to her death, Silas asks “Death?”--as if he sees that what’s really just happened, at least metaphorically, is (re)Birth.

[Harrow] thought she saw, absurdly, a sudden gush of watery blood, as though the fog itself had been knifed; but it was gone almost as soon as she had seen it.

Sounds a bit like amniotic fluid/water breaking? Coronabeth doesn’t ever seem to hit the ocean (bodies of water=necromancy and that’s not her deal), she instead just kinda poofs, and Silas says she would have ended up “on her feet.” Coronabeth is ditching her family ties and is out for blood, and I think her charisma, willpower, and sheer desire for revenge will move her a long way in the ranks of Eden--probably even to the point of echoing Commander Wake’s ambitions and actions. I could delve into that damn portrait mirroring Ianthe’s obsession w/ Cyrus’ paintings on the Mithraeum... but that is a whole other post!

So all of these are fairly baseline observations and I think there’s a LOT more to be expounded on, if y’all wanna reply/reblog/DM with additions I would freaking love that, every time I open a page of this book I find something I missed before and it’s such a delight. Thanks for reading if you got this far!!

[theboookwitch]

Okay after episode 5-6 I have many more feelings. And they are complicated.

Firstly, I’m getting really stressed out with Ah Jeong. I’m not trying to put all the blame on her, but between her and Ji Han, she’s the only one with all of the information. Only she knows that Do Han is gay and only she knows about the marriage contract and only she knows about all the stuff that Ji Han is doing behind Do Han’s back. She fully knows that there could be huge consequences. She even mentioned in episode 3 or 4 about how reporters are probably following Do Han around. And yet, she’s still just going around doing literally whatever she wants. Like, it’s common kdrama knowledge that you can’t just openly stay at a hotel with a man you’re not married to ESPECIALLY a chaebol who is your fiancé’s brother. Also, Do Han is supposed to be her best friend. Where is the loyalty?! She ditched him for Ji Han literally so fast. She’s so worried about Ji Han’s feelings, but like isn’t showing any concern for Do Han when she knows what will happen if he’s outed. I realize Do Han wasn’t honest with her for like so many years, and if I was her I’d be pissed too, but if she was still angry, she should never have agreed to the contract marriage in the first place. Do Han gave her more than one chance to back out and she firmly said yes, but continues to do risky things constantly with zero thought for the consequences. At this point, she also knows that the psycho reporter who caused their mom’s death is out there and targeting them, but she hasn’t tried to be careful at all. She is presented as a street smart strong character, but she’s acting clueless and selfish and it’s driving me crazy. Once again, she could’ve said no to this whole thing.

Ji Han is like a bulldozer and was completely disregarding his brother’s feelings about taking over the company. Before the current episodes, he had such a one-track mind, and it was frustrating bc it’s like do you actually care about your brother or just your ambitions? And I get it - he had a shitty life and has always been pushed aside and has worked his ass off to prove himself, but his grandpa could care less (still want to know the grandpa’s motives in all of this…he’s definitely got something we don’t know going on). So, yeah, I understand Ji Han. And my heart broke when his eyes filled with tears when Do Han said he would cut him off. But he just needs to listen and not do whatever he wants.

Now, Do Han. I have such a place in my heart for him. I’ve seen a lot of opinions about how shitty he was to abandon Ji Han and run away to NY. Or how fucked up his words were when he said he’d cut his brother off. But like…I understand him the most. When you’re in an oppressive situation (especially being queer with homophobic family - and in his case a homophobic society), running away is literally the only way to survive. It may come off as selfish, but it’s often times a life or death choice. And it’s not easy. When I moved out of my home at 18, I felt so much guilt for leaving my little siblings to my mom, but it was the only option for me. I would’ve never been able to become who I am today. I genuinely would’ve probably ended my life if I stayed. And it still took me till I was 30 to come out. Do Han ran away for survival. Yes, he left his brother who had no one, and he probably felt guilty, but leaving was probably the only way. Maybe bc I’m queer, I am able to empathize with him so much more. HOWEVER. So much would be solved if he just talked to his brother. Coming out is so hard, but Ji Han loves Do Han so much and I really think he wouldn’t be pushing so hard if he knew. I think deep down, he wants Do Han to be happy and he thinks inheriting the company and being accepted by the grandfather would accomplish that (bc for him, that’s what happiness looks like). But if he knew Do Han was gay, he’d understand and probably even support/encourage him moving to NY. COMMUNICATION PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD.

This was entirely too long and mostly just me rambling and ranting, but I’ve never had such mixed feelings about a drama. I’m like so anxious but I can’t stop watching???

Would love to discuss this with anyone.

I really like Wedding Impossible but I’m just so anxious that Do Han is going to get outed in a super traumatic way. It’s stressing me out.

[aliwritesfic]

The Night Shift Part 6 (F!Reader x Frankie Morales)

Summary: It's Saturday, your dickhead boyfriend is out of town, an old friend is in town, and it's time to get drunk!

Warnings: Drinking, mention of drug use, crippling self doubt

W/C: 4.3k

Spotify

Part 1 Part 7

Somehow, the week went exceptionally well. You bugged Frankie each day for the photo he promised you, and each time he grinned and told you that good things came to those who waited. On Wednesday you received a call from the vet telling you the kitten was going to be fine, and she would be put up for adoption when she was old enough. You were initially crushed that the kitten wasn’t going to be yours, but told yourself it was good she was bound to go to a good to a family. You couldn’t give the kind of life a cat deserved.

But most of all, you were almost unreasonably excited for the weekend. You bounced with excitement every time you thought about it - hell, even things with Kurt seemed to be going better. He had planned a hunting trip up north with a few of his friends, and would be gone from Thursday til Monday. He had brought you a bunch of flowers when he ‘broke the news’, not your favourite kind but it was the thought that counted. An entire four days to yourself was more than enough incentive for you to almost force him out the door on Thursday afternoon. With a kiss and a packed lunch and a promise to call, he was gone and the apartment was blessedly empty.

Even better, your best friend Sara was in town.

Fifteen minutes after you watched Kurt’s car pull out of the apartments parking lot, watching the window carefully to make sure he didn’t come back, you called her.

“Can we do something on Saturday? Get drunk, do bad things, anything?” You said by way of greeting.

“Oh hell fucking yes, I’ve been waiting for you to be fun again!” Sara said. You knew that was a not so subtle jab at how much you had changed since Kurt entered your life. You ignored it, like you usually did.

“Saturday sound good to you? I work Friday night and I can’t take it off.” More like you didn’t want to take it off.

“Saturday sounds fantastic. There’s a big fight night happening, and I wanna watch some hot sweaty guys pummel each other.” Sara said. “We can get drunk at the same time. Also I can get some molly if you want.”

“I’ll think about it,” you said, not entirely opposed to the idea of spending the night high as shit. Especially if Kurt wasn’t going to be there to yell at you for it.

“Let me know, sooner rather than later so I can sort it out with my guy,” Sara said. “Anyway babe, I’ve gotta jet, I’ve only got five minutes left on my break and I haven’t eaten yet, love ya!”

“Love you too,” you said, meaning it with your whole heart. Out of all the friends you once had, Sara was the only one who had stuck around after you started dating Kurt. At first, you had choked it up to jealousy, convincing yourself all your other friends were envious of your perfect relationship with a perfect guy. Now looking back, you could see what really happened: you had ditched them. Completely and utterly. Kurt had taken up all of your time, convincing you to stay in when you had plans to go out, telling you that the girls you would have trusted your life with only barely put up with you and it was just so obvious to anyone with an outsider's perspective that they didn’t really like you. You were grateful for Sara, more than words could say.

~*~

Saturday came quickly, and before you knew it, Sara was slamming her fist on your door, a bag stuffed with alcohol slung over her shoulder.

“Bitch!” she screamed in greeting when you finally opened the door, still wrapped in your towel from your shower. She was already dressed, in a tight gold 70s style jumpsuit that made her dark brown skin look like it was glowing from the inside out.

“How do you manage to look so good all the time?” You said, stepping aside to let her in.

“Witchcraft,” Sara said, pulling a bottle of prosecco out of her bag and popping it open. “And like, this whole thing took me all day. Why aren’t you ready yet?”

“I’ve been sleeping all day,” you said, plucking the bottle out of Sara’s hand and taking a swig. It was cold and crisp and filled your partly empty stomach. You continued to take small sips as you got ready, occasionally asking Sara for her girly wisdom on what to wear. She picked out your outfit as you applied makeup. It felt almost foreign, using something other than a mascara and brow pencil. The use of colour and shimmers almost felt like breaking some unwritten rule you had created for yourself since dating Kurt.

“What happened to all your fun clothes?” Sara whined, going through your wardrobe. You shrugged, carefully applying bronzer. Honestly, you weren’t sure. Sometimes things just went missing - you didn’t really question it anymore.

“I’m a miracle worker.” Sara declared after almost fifteen minutes of searching. You looked up at her, then at the small bundle of clothing in her arms. She grinned and flung the pile at you. You held up a black pleather skirt that you hadn’t worn in almost a year, and a black body suit that dipped low in the chest.

“Christ,” you muttered.

“What’s wrong with it,” Sara sounded exasperated, like she had been expecting this from you.

“It’s just-” you hesitated. “I’m not going out to get dick, you know? What’s wrong with a pair of jeans?”

Sara rolled her eyes. “What’s wrong with a pair of jeans? I’ll tell you what: everything. You don’t have to have dick as the aim of the night to look cute. You can look cute for yourself. You know just as well as I do that skirt makes your legs and ass look amazing, especially when paired with the shoes I’ve brought for you. Plus, if someone out tonight decides you look cute enough to buy you drinks, then even better! Because free drinks! You don’t have to fuck them as a thank you, you can just turn around and walk away. So, get dressed and stop complaining.”

You considered Sara’s words for a moment. She was right. After you changed, you admired yourself in the mirror. Your ass really did look amazing, and the strappy black heels that Sara had loaned you accentuated your calves magnificently. Sara stood next to you, arm linked through yours, almost a foot taller in her platforms and with her afro teased to the high heavens.

“God, we’re sexy,” she murmured, taking another swig out of the bottle. “You’re absolutely wasted on Kurt.”

You didn’t bother with your usual retorts to that kind of comment. She’s wrong, you’re lucky to have someone to love you like that at all, no one else would want to if they got to know you, you told yourself. It’s what he had told you over and over again, the words searing themselves inside your brain to repeat each time you began to truly doubt with him.

You finished off the prosecco while you waited for the Uber to arrive, enjoying the warm buzz it left you with. Sara whipped out her phone and began to take photos of the two of you. At first, you shied away from the camera, the words Kurt had said once in a throwaway comment, surely not designed to hurt but did anyway, rang in your ears. You don’t look very good in photos, why do you take so many? After that, you would spend hours staring at old photos of yourself, the flaws that were invisible now glaringly obvious.

Tonight though . . . Tonight you felt pretty. You posed for the camera, following Sara’s instructions as best you could. You took photos of each other throughout the entire ride to the venue where the fight night was taking place.

It looked a little shabby on the outside, overgrown hedges snaked up the walls, covering the windows. A smoking area was off to the side, crowded with people. The inside was even more crowded, with bodies pushing up against the horseshoe shaped bar and surrounding the ring. Two women were in the ring, both bloodied and swinging.

“God there is just something so arousing about hot people consensually beating each other up,” Sara said, unable to tear her eyes away from the ring.

“Babe, you’re drooling,” you joked, stepping in line for the bar.

“I can’t help it, I have an overactive salivary gland,” Sara sighed, tearing her eyes away. “At least my dentist says so.” You grinned at her and ordered three vodka sodas each. It was a tradition with the two of you that you would always order three drinks at a time. Less back and forth, you had reasoned. Although, usually as the night progressed, three drinks were downed in the same amount of time it took to drink one, so it really cancelled itself out in the end.

As tradition warranted, you and Sara cheersed and swallowed your first drink in one breath.

Several more fights occurred, the divisions eventually changing from women’s to men’s. Neither you nor Sara paid much attention to the first few fights: “amateur hour” Sara had said to you “I’m waiting for the good stuff.”

The good stuff, it turned out, started almost an hour and 5 drinks after you arrived.

“Next fight, King V Miller!” The announcer shouted into the microphone to the cheer of the crowd. Sara’s head shot up as if she could sense the sudden change, and she grabbed your hand, tugging you closer to the ring.

“Oh, my god look at him,” Sara said, gesturing to the ring. You knew instantly which one she was talking about. He was tall, with shaggy blonde hair and lean muscle corded over his body.

“He’s pretty spry,” you said, and instantly cringed. Spry? Really?

“I wanna fuck him tonight,” Sara said. Then her voice took on a determined edge. “I am going to fuck him tonight.” Manifestation, Sara called it. If you told the universe what you wanted, the universe would deliver.

Apparently.

“I am going to get more drinks,” you told her. She nodded, not tearing her eyes away from the fighter. You went to the considerably less crowded bar- it seemed like everyone was now watching the fights- and leant against its sticky surface.

You shouted your order over the noise of the crowd, and scanned the bar as you waited. Most faces were familiar in the way that you knew when you had seen someone before, but you didn’t know when or where. That was, until you landed on one dazzlingly familiar face, standing almost right next to you.

“Frankie?”

~*~

Frankie startled at the sound of his name. He looked around, expecting to see one of the boys or maybe an old work friend from the mechanics. The last person he expected was you. But there you stood, looking so good that he was momentarily lost for words.

“Frankie!” You said again, with a huge grin on your face this time.

“Hey!” He grinned back, “what’s a girl like you doing in a dump like this?” His tone held a flirty edge, one he wouldn’t dare have used if he hadn’t already had several bourbon and colas.

“Oh you know, I plan on accosting the winner tonight of all their prize money and taking off into the night, never to be heard from again,” you accepted three drinks from the bartender as you spoke. “What about you?”

“My friend Benny is fighting tonight. He’s actually up right now, the blonde one.”

Your jaw dropped. “No way! My friend wants to fuck your friend.” You pointed your chin towards a tall black woman, dressed like she had wandered out of Studio 54. “Is he single? Can we play wingpeople?”

“He is, we can.” Frankie nodded confidently. Maybe it was the alcohol controlling his brain, but any excuse to spend time with you seemed like a good excuse. “How should we do this?”

“Does your friend Billy-”

“Benny.”

“Benny stick around after the fights?”

“Yeah, he gets free drinks,” Frankie said. You nodded approvingly, taking a sip of one of your own drinks. Frankie watched amazed as you somehow held the two others in one hand, your fingers curling around the hard plastic cups.

“How do you do that?” He asked.

“Do what?”

“Hold your stuff like that,” he gestured to your fingers. You looked down, confused.

“Whatta’ya mean?”

“With your fingers.”

“Oh! Um, I dunno, I just do.” You shrugged and placed the now empty up on a random table, and started on the next drink. It occurred to Frankie that you were well on your way to being very, very drunk.

The crowd cheered loudly as Benny knocked out the other guy with a bloody grin. Frankie whistled his support and Benny caught his eye, saluting tiredly. Santi also caught his attention, and even across the room Frankie could see the wicked grin form on his face. Frankie looked away quickly, not willing to give the bastard any ideas.

“Where’s your boyfriend?” Frankie asked, trying to keep his voice casual.

“Some stupid place doing some stupid hunting,” you said with a roll of your eyes. “Fuck him anyway he never lets me do anything fun.”

“What do you mean ‘lets you’?” Frankie said, his brow furrowing.

“I mean, he’s a controlling dickhead!” You said, then slapped a hand over your mouth. “Don’t tell him I just said that! Please!”

“I won’t, I promise,” Frankie said.

“Just forget I said anything,” your voice had taken on an almost desperate edge.

“It’s forgotten,” Frankie lied. He didn’t know how, but he was going to bring it up later. The idea of your boyfriend ‘not letting’ you do something had taken root in his brain, and somehow it made him furious. He took a deep breath, counting slowly to calm himself down.

“Who’s that guy who keeps making faces at you?” You asked, gesturing across the bar. Frankie sighed.

“Santi.” Frankie rolled his eyes at his old friend and waved him over. His curly hair friend bounded over, flashing you with a brilliant white smile.

“Well, hello there,” he said, winking at you. “Santiago Garcia, but you can call me whatever you like.”

You smiled sheepishly and gave him your name, “I work with Frankie.” Santiago’s grin widened at this piece of information, and Frankie groaned internally.

“You’re the girl Frankie told me about.”

“Chatting shit, I’m sure,” you laughed, but Frankie didn’t miss the questioning glance you sent his way when you spoke.

“Santiago was the one who took that photo I told you about,” Frankie said quickly, not wanting you to get the wrong idea. You nodded and leant over towards Santi.

“He keeps promising to show me but he’s yet to deliver,” you said, winking at Frankie. His stomach jumped, breath caught in his throat. He knew you were joking but he couldn’t help but feel like he had disappointed you somehow.

“That’s my fault,” Santi said, “I keep meaning to get him a copy but since he’s sleeping all day I haven’t been able to.” You nodded and turned to Frankie.

“I should go find my Sara before I lose her for the night,” you said, looking at Frankie. “Come find me - I mean, us later? With your Benny?”

“Yeah, of course,” Frankie said, watching as you disappeared into the crowd. The urge to grab you and kiss you grew with every second, but he restrained himself. He wasn’t that kind of guy, and no amount of drinks would make him think it would be a good idea to do that to someone. Let alone you.

~*~

Frankie’s head was cloudy with alcohol, he couldn’t stop thinking about how good your ass looked in that tiny skirt, how he wanted to plant his face directly in your chest.

“Fucking hell, get a grip,” Santiago said, shaking his friend by the shoulder. They were back in the locker rooms, Benny was buzzing with his win. He and Will were going their post match ritual of smacking each other on the back and releasing loud “woo”’s.

“I’m fine,” Frankie insisted, and Santi scoffed.

“You’re full of shit,” he said. “Ironhead, tell this idiot he’s full of shit!”

“You’re full of shit, Fish!” Will said automatically. “But what’s he full of shit for?”

“He’s in denial about pining for the chick he works with,” Santi said. “Look at the poor bastard, it’s written on his face.”

“Fish, you’ve never been good at keeping a straight face when it comes to emotional crap,” Benny said. “All other stuff, you’re great. Just not when it comes to matters of the heart. Or the dick.”

“You should’ve seen the way he was looking at her,” Santi laughed. “And the way she was looking at him, making bedroom eyes at each other.”

Frankie rolled his eyes, ignoring how the last comment made his heart leap. “You’re all stupid, she’s just a work friend saying hi. Nothing more.”

“Full of shit!” Benny cackles. “Look at his blush!” Frankie groaned. They were right about him at least. He had it bad for you.

But that didn’t matter. You had a boyfriend, and even if everything Frankie found out about the guy made him resent him a little more, he couldn’t change that one important fact. And he wasn’t stupid enough to ruin the beginings of his friendship with you over a stupid fucking crush. He just wasn’t.

Benny showered, singing You Belong With Me and switching out the pronouns as he did. The man was an unashamed Swiftie, claiming that she had a song for every situation. Frankie pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep swig of his beer. Will sat beside him and nudged him gently.

“What are you gonna do?” he asked.

Frankie frowned. “What? I’m not gonna ‘do’ anything. She has a boyfriend, end of story.”

“Sorry to hear that man,” Will said, sounding sincere. He knew Frankie wasn’t the type of guy to wreck someone else's relationship for purely selfish reasons. “You’re a good man.”

Frankie wished he wasn’t.

Benny changed into his regular clothes quickly, and said something about needing a drink. The four of them left the locker room and made their way to the bar, and Frankie couldn’t help but look around for you. When he couldn’t see you, he bit back the slight disappointment that sank in his stomach. Benny brought a round for the group and they found an empty table to sit at. The employees of the bar were dismantling the ring to make room for a dance floor. Loud, thumping music started playing and within moments the floor was packed with bodies.

“Frankie! And Frankie’s friends!” Frankie looked around at the sound of your voice, which was high with excitement. You bounded over, clutching the hand of the friend you had pointed out earlier. You introduced yourself and your friend Sara to the group and pulled up a chair for you and Sara each. Frankie didn’t miss how you placed Sara’s chair next to Benny, or how Benny was staring at Sara with his mouth slightly open. He also noticed with a slight pang how you sat yourself between Will and Santi, directly across from him.

What he didn’t was how much you kept looking at him. Lucky for him, Santi and Will noticed plenty.

You and Sara spent a few hours with the group, until a not so inconspicuous Benny and Sara both disappeared, Sara throwing a wink towards you as she left. Will left not long after, saying that his bed was calling his name. Santi stayed a little longer, flirting with you much to Frankie’s annoyance. To his credit, he didn’t show you the catfish photo. Frankie wanted to show you that one himself, when you were both sober.

“I better head out,” Santi said as it rolled past three in the morning. “I’ve gotta babysit Lee tomorrow, and you know how hyper he is.” He turned to you and kissed your hand. “It was the deepest pleasure meeting you, don’t be a stranger. Frankie.” Santi raised an eyebrow and shot him a meaningful look.

“Good night,” he said a little forcefully, shoving Santi towards the door, mainly to get him to stop flirting with you. He knew the flirting was just incentive to spur him into some kind of action with you, but it wasn’t going to work.

“Your friends are nice,” you said, struggling to connect the straw of your drink with your mouth.

“They’re assholes most of the time. They’re just nice to beautiful women.” Frankie regretted the words as soon as they were out of his mouth. Shit! Now she thinks I think she’s beautiful. She is! But she doesn’t need to know I think that! Frankie finished off his drink to avoid looking at you.

“I’m attractive til they get to know me,” you said with a snort.

“What makes you think that?” Frankie asked, confused as to how that could work.

“I don’t think,” you said, “I know. It’s a fact. One that cannot be argued.”

Frankie was about to argue with you about this when you turned away, stumbling as you did. She’s super fucking drunk, Frankie thought, grabbing your arms to steady you. Your skin was so much softer than he anticipated, sending a jolt through him. He let go quickly, mouth going dry as you beamed up at him.

“You saved me!” You declared, then finished your drink quickly, emitting a small burp. “To thank you, I must give you a token of my gratitude. I know! A drink! Three drinks for the kind sir! And three for me!”

“Jesus, how much have you had?” Frankie asked, laughing.

“Only a little bit,” you shrugged and thought for a moment. “Maybe like, a dozen vodka sodas and some shots and also half a bottle of prosecco. And also a teeny tiny bit of molly, but that was hours ago, so it’s basically gone.”

“Maybe I should walk you home,” Frankie suggested gently, amazed that you were still upright let alone getting served. You shrugged.

“I can just get an Uber or something, it’s fine.”

“No, no, don’t waste your money, let me walk you.”

You looked up at him with slightly unfocused eyes. “Yeah, okay.”

The cold air outside hit the both of you like a wall. Stars scattered across a moonless sky, leaving Frankie wonderstruck for a moment, until he noticed the goosebumps on your arms. Without a second thought, Frankie took off his jacket and placed it gently around your shoulders. You looked up at him, a surprised look on your face.

“Frankie, can I ask you something?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, so, I have this friend, right? And she’s been dating this guy for years now. They live together, no kids or anything. But she told me a little while ago that she’s been feeling . . . trapped.”

“Trapped?”

“Yeah. Like, she doesn’t think she loves her boyfriend anymore. At least, not in a way that she should. And he’s so mean to her, too. He doesn’t hit her or anything, but he’s also not super nice to her, and-and she doesn’t always know what she did to deserve it. She doesn’t know what to do.”

“Can she leave?” Frankie suspected you weren't talking about a friend, but he didn’t press beyond what you were willing to tell him.

“Not easily, I don’t think. She doesn’t have enough money for her own place and- and she’s afraid.” Your face flushed.

“What’s she afraid of?”

“Being alone. Unloved. She doesn’t have any family or anything and her boyfriend is the closest she has to that. So um, if she was your friend, what would you say to her?”

Frankie was thoughtful for several moments. He didn’t want to fuck this up. If his suspicions were correct, you were talking about yourself. “Well, first of all I would tell her that her boyfriend is a massive dick, even if he doesn’t hit her, boyfriends shouldn’t make their girlfriends feel like shit. I would tell her to talk to her friends, ask for their help. I would also tell her that being alone doesn’t have to mean lonely, and it certainly doesn’t mean that she’s going to be unloved.”

You nodded thoughtfully at this. Frankie took this as a good sign. “She can’t know for sure what her life will be like, but my guess is that it will be better if she chooses to leave this asshole.”

The rest of the walk was spent in silence. Frankie knew you were thinking about what he said. He too, was lost in thought. Trying to figure out a plan to help you in any way he could. All too soon, you arrived at your apartment building.

“Thanks for this,” you said, taking off the jacket and handing it to him. Frankie nodded.

“You needed it more than me,” he said simply. “I’ll see you at lunch tomorrow?”

You nodded, and then as if you weren’t entirely sure if what you were about to do was a good idea, you wrapped your arms around him. Frankie stiffened for a moment before hugging you back, holding you to him tightly, breathing in your scent of perfume, sweat, and alcohol. You were warm and soft and everything in him was screaming don’t let go.

“Thank you,” you whispered in his ear, and he knew you weren’t talking about the jacket.

Taglist: Taglist: @hnt-escape @sharkbait77 @1800-fight-me @annathewitch @darnitdraco @frankiecatfish @punkerthanpascal @nakhudanyx @gracie7209

[blackmissfrizzle]

Wild Child

Characters: Miguel Galindo x black!reader

Summary: Miguel can’t control his free spirited wife.

Warnings: Its filthy. I tried to put some plot in it but its barely there lol.

WC: 4.1K

A/N: I hit a couple of birds with this one stone. First its a request from @darlingcherrybomb-Can I have 11 & 15 w/ Miguel Galindo plz??? thank you :) and this is also my submission for my 2K Follower Celebration and Bad Bitch Challenge. The song I’m using is Hood Rat Shit. Also shoutout to @starrynite7114​ for indulging me!

Prompts are bolded

When Miguel Galindo started dating you no one really batted an eye. They simply thought the businessman/cartel boss was going through a mid-life crisis and wanted some young pretty thing on his arm. But when he slipped that engagement ring on your finger and made an honest woman out of you, everyone had questions. You were Santo Padre��s resident wild child.

If it wasn’t the Mayans causing trouble, then it was you. Growing up the Reyes family was your next-door neighbors and that instantly made EZ and Angel your best friends. Even as a child Angel was charismatic and that easily made you look up to him. Everything he did, you tried to do. That earned you the nickname, Angelita. If you could’ve joined the club, you would’ve.

So how you ended up married to Miguel was a mystery. Sure, you cleaned up nice and despite your wild ways you had a respectable job, but you still were considered as riff raff, nothing but a damn troublemaker.

Where everyone saw a crazy party girl, Miguel saw an independent uninhibited woman. Someone unafraid to speak their mind and can hold their own in this cutthroat world. Someone who could handle all of him. Someone who humbled him and made him enjoy the simpler things in life.

Although, he loved you, you were a fucking headache. Your free spirit didn’t sit well with the confines of his lifestyle. Any chance you got you ditched the bodyguards. Upscale lounges? Nah, you loved the dive bars. There’s a Mayans party? You’re there. Dress like you’re a powerful businessman’s wife? Nope can do. You were allergic to designer and preferred jeans and leggings.  Being driven around town? No thank you, you were a speed demon. As you and your friends love to say, “You’re ain’t nothing but a hoodrat hoodrat, hoochie mama.”

Like tonight, he specifically told you he didn’t want you hanging out at the clubhouse because he heard some rumblings of trouble with another MC. But of course, you didn’t listen. It was EZ’s patch party and you were gonna celebrate with your boys.

“Run me my money, Medina!” You folded your hand in the ‘gimme’ motion.

“Aren’t you already rich?” He asked, slapping the twenties in your hand.

Angel busted out laughing and nudged Medina with his shoulder. “We told you not to play her. I told you she’s vicious. Don’t ever fall for the puppy dog eyes.”

Everyone joined in at Medina’s lost. At this point most Mayans in the Santo Padre charter and other charters knew not to play pool with you or at least not to underestimate you, so finding someone not privy to to your skills was delightful.

Throughout the night, your goal was to set EZ up with Gabby and not just for a one-night stand. He desperately needed someone else to focus on instead of Emily. Currently, you were outside at a table with your crew: Coco, Gilly, EZ, and Angel.

“Just go talk to her.” You urged your best friend.

“Yeah, for some crazy ass reason she likes you.” Angel slapped the back of his brother’s head.

Tracing your finger along his arm, you pointed out the evidence. “It’s this damn vein that always making an appearance.”

Coco sat back in amazement. “That shit really turn y’all on? Simple stuff like that? One time I had a chick obsessed with my fingers. She got turned on whenever I held a cig. I thought she was into some freaky ass shit.” The whole table erupted into laughter. For Coco to be so experienced, he was clueless.

Taking his hand in yours, you began tracing his fingers and inspecting. “Oh ok, I see you Coco Cruz. These shits are veiny, long, and thick as fuck. Yeah, homegirl was obsessed!”

“But why, chiquita?” Coco flicked you on the nose.

“Do you not finger bitches, Cruz? These are prefect candidates for fingering. Like dude, when I see, Miguel’s fingers wrapped around a glass, I get all wet and tingly inside.”

If you were paying attention, then you would’ve noticed how quiet all the guys gotten. It wasn’t until Coco slyly slipped his hand out of your grasp that you felt a presence. “He’s behind me, isn’t he?”

“Yup, Angelita!” Angel hooked his arm around your neck and ruffled your hair. A gesture that didn’t bother Miguel. He understood the familial dynamic you had with the Reyes brothers.

“Hey babe!” You smiled at him like you didn’t just disobeyed him by showing up at this party.

Miguel gave you a small smirk. It was his way of telling you he was pissed off, but he wasn’t going to show it in front of company. “Sweetheart,” he kissed you on top of your head. “I’m going to talk to Obispo and then we’re leaving.” His tone told you there was no room for arguments.

Miguel left you to go to talk to Bishop and give you some time to tell your friends goodbye. Marcus stood by you as he watched boss leave. “Angelita, do you ever stay out of trouble?” He patted your back and kissed your temple.

You held your chin as if you were in deep thought. “Mmm, nope. Its too much fun not to.”

“We should’ve nicknamed you little Diabla.” Gilly joked.

“Screw you, Gilly!”

“No, that’s your husband’s job and by the way you’ll be walking like Bambi for the next week will be proof enough.” You slapped Angel upside the head, but the only further his laughing. They all loved to tease you when you got in trouble with Miguel.

You didn’t have time to quip back, because Miguel came back done with his conversation with Bishop and from the looks of it, Bishop got some bad news. Hopefully, none of it had anything to do with you.

When you got in the car the partition was already rolled up, a big red flag that you were in trouble. “Sooooo, what did you talk to Bishop about? He looked upset.”

Miguel cut his eyes to you before he looked back out the window. “That other MC was on the way to the clubhouse to shoot up the place. I handled it when I was on the way. Just dumb luck we stumbled onto them.”

“Wowwww,” you blew a raspberry and widen your eyes as saucers. You hated when he was right, it knocked down all your objections. “Lucky that you were on the way then, huh?” You gave him a nervous smile and scratched the back of your head.

“Lucky?” He repeated the word with venom. “You could’ve died!”

“But I didn’t!”

“You disobeyed me!”

It was true, you didn’t listen, but everything worked out in the end. “I know but-”

One of Miguel’s hand grasped your throat hard enough to make breathing a little harder, but not enough to hurt you. He pressed his face against to the side of yours, harshly breathing against your ear. “No buts- you deliberately disobeyed me and if it wasn’t for me coming to get your bratty ass, you would’ve been dead!”

“Miguel, I’m sorry.”

With his other hand, Miguel shoved his hand down your pants. “Oh, you’re about to be sorry, mi vida. I’ll show you what these fingers can do.” His fingers pushed your panties to the side and explored all your wetness. “Shit! You’re loving this, you dirty little slut. I bet if I wanted to, you’d let me finger you in front of all your little Mayan friends.”

You began riding his fingers as he fucked into you. It was too much not to move. Miguel was an expert in your pleasure and knew how to set you off in minutes if that’s what he wanted, and it appeared he wanted you to suffer. “Miguel, pleaseeeeee.” You pleaded with him, grabbing onto his wrist for support.

“Hmm, please what, querida?” He licked the side of your face then pulled your earlobe in between his teeth. “Dime que quieres. (Tell me what you want.)”

“I want to cum. Please Miguel.” You pecked at his lips giving him the chance to devour your lips. “If you want to cum, you’re gonna have to do it yourself.” Miguel murmured against your lips.

Miguel kept his fingers still as you rolled your hips. It wasn’t the same as him pumping his fingers in and out, but you knew there was one way you could get him to participate once again. Keeping your eyes on Miguel, you wet your fingers and let them find your clit. Not even one rub in and Miguel had his hand around your wrist. “Who told you that you could touch what’s mine?”

You bent down and whispered by his ear. “If it was yours, I would be cumming by now.”

Miguel growled and began furiously fingering you and rubbing your clit with his thumb. “Fucking brat! I better not hear any crying from you tonight talking about its too much. You’re taking everything I’m giving you.”

He wasn’t taking it easy on you anymore. Miguel pumped into you as fast as he could while suckling kisses along your shoulder up to his neck. “Te amo, mi vida. But if you ever do something that stupid again, I won’t have any problems locking your ass up.”

Your lips met Miguel’s for a searing kiss. “I love you too, Miguel.”

Taking some of your hair, Miguel moved it to the other side and kissed your neck. “Now cum all over my fingers.”

Your body immediately responded to Miguel’s command, making you leak onto the seat. That sight almost made Miguel unhinged, but he contained himself. The things he had planned for you couldn’t be executed in the back of a car. So, he allowed you to rest until you got back home, where he could teach you a lesson or two about obedience.

--

The thing about certain lessons with you was that they weren’t long-lasting. There was something that always drew you back to your rebellious ways. Tonight, was girl’s night and you were on your way out the door when you heard Miguel’s voice. “Go change.”

You stopped in your tracks and looked back at your husband sitting with Marcus and Nestor. “Excuse me?” Nestor rubbed his hand over his face and Marcus lowly chuckled. Looks like it was about to be an interesting night in the Galindo household.

Miguel put down the report he was reading and focused his eyes on you. “I said go change, mi amor.”

You knew this was a risqué outfit, but you thought if you walked fast enough, Miguel wouldn’t notice. “What’s wrong with this?” You asked, pretending like you damn well didn’t know what was wrong.

The chair scraped against the floor as Miguel backed out of the chair. He surrounded you as a predator inspecting his prey. A lion chomping at the bits to get to his meal. “You are not wearing that out. I will rip it off you. Now go change or you won’t see your friends until the next girls’ night.” He pulled the strap of your top, letting it slap against your skin. As you turned to go up the stairs, Miguel smacked your ass for his victory. It wasn’t very often that he easily won your compliance.

When you came back down, Miguel was much more appeased with your outfit. A simple flowy black tank top replaced the corset bodysuit you had on earlier. He genuinely wished you a good time as you left. Miguel knew that with a couple of drinks in you, you would be primed for some nasty sex later. Little did he know that you had your original top in your purse and had plans to ditch the bodyguards.

A little later that night, Miguel, Nestor, and Marcus went out to a restaurant to take a break from the tedious work. Nestor excused himself from the table when he got a call from the security team. Miguel flagged the waitress down when he saw Nestor pinched the bridge of his nose. It was the same thing he did when he heard you were up to no good. “She ditched the bodyguards?”

Nestor pulled out his phone to show Miguel a video. “Yeah and is having the time of her life.” Miguel grimaced as he fixed his suit jacket. “Let’s go get my wife before I have to fill my church pew.”

—

The lounge you and your girls went to was nice at first, but after the first round of expensive watered-down drinks all of you were ready to go. Especially, since the music wasn’t danceable to. It was $2 everything at one of your old haunts, so that’s where you went. They had the best mix of current and old hits, having everyone vibing.

With all the drinks being $2 and very strong, you were easily drunk enough not to have a care in the world. Unsurprisingly though you were the most coherent (drinking with bikers would do that to you). So, you knew that you shouldn’t have gotten on top of the bar, but you couldn’t give one flying fuck. What was Miguel gonna do? Put you on his church pew? Please, one bash of these eyelashes and you’d be out of trouble.

The dj began playing a set of Megan thee Stallion and you were in your zone. You and your friends were providing entertainment as y’all screamed the lyrics out.

I want to do it ‘cause it’s fun

It’s fun to bad things

(Hood rat shit)

Drive into a car (Ahh)

Didi you know you could perhaps kill somebody?

(Mwah)

Yes, but I wanted to do hood rat stuff with my friends.

Instantly, you and your friends got into your Megan squats and twerked just like the song told y’all. Its been so long since you did it that you almost got scared that your knees would buckle.

Hood rat shit (Huh) with my hood rat friends

(Ayy)

Everywhere we go (Ayy) we be drinking Hen

(Ayy)

Shake that ass, shake that ass, bitch, bounce that shit (Ayy, yeah)

If you weren’t so caught up, you would’ve felt the air in the room change. You would’ve felt the oxygen leave the room, making it harder to breath. You would’ve stopped making random people drive the boat while they had a great view of your cleavage due to your corset bodysuit that you secretly changed back into.

It wasn’t until you felt that overwhelming presence that you noticed your husband next to you. He rested his elbow on the bar and held his chin in his hand smiling up at you. “Oh, hi honey. Funny seeing you here.” You greeted him. Miguel couldn’t reach your hand, so he started rubbing on your ankle. “No, its funny seeing you here in that,” he nodded at your corset. “What happened to your other shirt?” There was no good answer, so instead you bent down and rapped the lyrics to Miguel, playfully having your fingers in his face.

You ain’t from my hood (Huh)

What you doing round here? (Hey)

Asking all them questions (Huh)

You must be the Feds (Ayy)

Better get from round here

Before you wind up dead (Yeah)

The corner of Miguel’s mouth quirked up as he patiently waited for the song to be over. Despite how mad he was, he enjoyed seeing you have fun with just the simple things. And it wasn’t from youthfulness, but from a good heart. That’s what made him love you. The only things you needed was your friends, family, and good times, and you reminded him that was important.  

“Terminada?”

“Yup,” you took his offered hand and jumped down from the bar. He draped your leather jacket over your shoulders and zipped it up. “Really?” Your eyes dipped down to your chest. Miguel cupped your cheek before he kissed it. “Yes, really. Now let’s leave before I have to shoot someone for ogling you too long.” Quickly, you exited the bar. There was no need for anyone to die because of you.

On the way back to your house, Miguel didn’t reveal how pissed he was. He just kept a possessive hand on your denim clad thigh and discussed his plans for the week. He didn’t go into gory detail, but just enough to prepare you for how busy he would be. That was practically a warning. With him being pissed about your activities tonight and pair that with his busy schedule, let’s just say your glad you’ve been focused on your flexibility and stamina.

Finally, at home, the both of you told Nestor and Marcus good night. You headed for your room, but Miguel gripped the back of your neck tightly and steered you to the playroom down the hall. Miguel specifically used this room when he planned to fuck you for hours. Dear lord, this was gonna be a long night.

You knew better than to speak as he sets up the room. Standing stark still you watched as he lit candles, turned on the fairy lights, and set the LED lights a mix of blue and purple. Miguel loved how the blue hue reflected off your brown skin. It highlighted every single thing he loved about you.

When he was finished setting the ambiance, Miguel circled around you until he was standing directly behind you. He said nothing as his hands went to the button of your jeans. His warm breath caressed your neck like a hug, his hands setting fire to your skin as he pulled down your jeans.

A yelp escaped your lips when you felt Miguel’s teeth scrape against your ass. Done with what you were for sure knew were gonna leave marks, Miguel ran his nose along your ass until he reached the crook of your neck. He dug his fingers into your ass while his teeth dug into your shoulder. The pain was welcoming, making you quiver all over.

“Hands behind your back.” Miguel ordered. Soon, you felt the cuffs around your wrists and then the sensation was felt around your ankles as well. “Stay here.” He whispered against your ear.

You watched Miguel swagger to what you called the ‘sex couch’, it was curved to accommodate your bodies, specifically for adult activities. He sat down, legs all wide and inviting while he loosened his collar. Crooking his fingers, he told you to come here.

The heels you were wearing made you the perfect height that Miguel’s face was directly at your navel. He pressed a light kiss there, then he reached up to your shoulders to push you down on your knees.

Unzipping his pants, he pulled out his cock and you were instantly hypnotized. Honestly, Miguel should just whip it out all the time when he wants you to do something. You’ll listen to him…momentarily.

“Aren’t you gonna take off your clothes?” You inquired.

Miguel wrapped his hand around your hair. “No, at least one of us needs to know how to dress. Now, suck my dick. It ain’t gonna suck itself.” Out of nowhere, he pulled out a cigar, lit it and began smoking it, his way of dismissing you.

There was no way you were gonna tease him. From the tension in his body you knew he would snap at any moment. Your mouth engulfed his length, only getting a couple of bobs in until Miguel roughly pushed your head into his crotch and pummeling your mouth with his cock. All of him took up the room in your throat, but it didn’t bother you. You loved that it was you making those moans come out of Miguel’s mouth.

He granted you a little reprieve and let you up for some air. He took one more puff of his cigar before putting it out. His hands went to your corset to pull your breasts out and for a moment he fondles them with interest until he slapped them and twisted the nipples. “Dressed like a fucking whore! Letting everyone see your tits. I should’ve fucked you right on that bar. No one would’ve stopped me.” Miguel’s hand was now around your throat and he pulled you towards his face. “Would you have let me fucked you there? Hmm, be my little whore?”

“Yes daddy! Whatever you want to do to me, you can.”

His other hand found your hair again. “Huh, you’re giving me permission? I know I can do whatever the fuck I want to you because you’re mines. The only one who seems not know this is you. Can’t follow simple fucking instructions. Is it that hard to listen to me?”

“No.”

“Then why don’t you listen?”

The brat in you just had to jump out, you smiled up at him like a madwoman before responding. “Because it’s fun and I enjoy doing hood rat shit.”

Miguel finally snapped. With unknown strength he ripped your bodysuit off your body and threw you onto your stomach on the couch, securing your ankle cuffs to the locks on the couch. Miguel didn’t bother to take off his clothes, you could feel the fabric of his Armani slacks as he pushed into you.

Even though it was about Miguel’s pleasure, it was about yours as well. Every one of his thrust got you closer to your end, but you wanted more. You wanted to touch your husband, you wanted your lips to leave the same marks he was leaving, you wanted to look him in the eye as he called you a slut, whore, and everything in between. “Daddy turn me around. I want to look at you.” You pleaded.

Miguel hips stuttered a bit, he couldn’t believe what his ears just heard. Leaning forward, his clothed chest was against your naked back. “Did you just give me an order? You think you can just get what you want?”

He couldn’t see your doe eyes, but he could hear the sickeningly sweet babied tone you use on him whenever you want something. “Yes, because I’m your baby girl.”

“Be careful what you wish for, baby girl.” Miguel flipped you over, his hand flew to your throat as he thrusted into you. He loved how you tightened around him when his hand found its permeant place on your neck. “So, fucking responsive to me. Tell me how much you love this cock.”

“I love it so much, daddy. I wish you could be in me every minute of the day” you gasped in between thrusts.

Miguel hovered over you and smoothed your hair. “How sweet, kitten.” He mocked you, then spat in your mouth and smeared it over your face, before shoving four of his fingers in your mouth. He chuckled at how your eyes widen. “What? I thought you wanted to look at me?”

You tried to say something, but your words were muffled by his fingers. “Hmm, what was that whore?” Miguel took his fingers out so he could hear you clearly. “Can I cum, daddy? Pretty please.”

Miguel couldn’t deny you anymore. “Since you asked so nicely, you can.” His thumb reached for you clit and rubbed on it until your legs were shaking and your eyes were rolling to the back of your head, but Miguel wanted your eyes on him. He grabbed the back of your neck and rested your forehead on his. “Look at me when you cum!” Once your eyes connected, Miguel reached his own orgasm and coated your walls with white hot cum.

In an instant, Miguel released the cuffs and carried you to the bed while giving you reassuring kisses and declarations of love. Despite your protests, he left to go get the both of you some water and towels to clean up. While he was gone you reached out for your phone that Miguel conveniently placed for you.

You: Sorry, guys I won’t be able to make it to our ride tomorrow. Raincheck?

Angel: I told y’all! I knew Galindo was gonna fuck her up for that outfit.

Coco: Damn! He broke you off that bad?

You: No, he broke me off that good!

Gilly: EARMUFFS!

You: Blame Dumbass #1 and Dumbass #2. Now am I gonna get a raincheck?

EZ: Yes, you will, Angelita. GN.

Knowing that the guys weren’t going to be mad at the fact that you weren’t going tomorrow, you silenced your phone, ignoring whatever argument they would no doubt get into. Instead you waited for your husband to return to continue breaking you off for the rest of the night.

Tagging: @starrynite7114​ @marvelmaree​ @thickemadame​ @woahitslucyylu​ @ifoundmyhappythought​ @chaneajoyyy​ @angrythingstarlight​ @sadeyesgf​ @teakturn​ @dearsamcrobae​ @strawberrywritings​

[my-heart-is-but-a-gentle-moon]

Reminded of the post of ‘laughing is much better than getting angry’ the girl forced an awkward pull of her lips open. Making her own self grimace.

‘Smiling when you don’t feel like it is basically like lying to yourself.’ She spoke simply and monotonously, her mind wandering to how Saeyoung is also alike to her in that way.

‘Who are you?’ The curly haired brunette youngling asked herself, dark brown eyes boring into her own messy void, tilting her head.

‘What is it inside of you that you wish to make of the world?’

‘Of yourself?’

‘I don’t want to fight with Jumin. But I also simply want to understand how things are working out with that girl he’s with. I’m hoping things are going well for him with her. I don’t feel comfortable being pursued by Jumin. Part of me cares but part of me wants to disengage because I know I’m being pursued when it’s kinda like, hahah ;;; lol. No thanks.. and when I’m clutched onto too hard it’s like, I wanna take off even faster.

But I know that reaching an adult compromise between us is important. Or at least like, understanding, forgiveness and letting go. Depends on whether we can reach a compromise ono. Hopefully.

Like - I’ve even thought of like, instead of the depressing stuff I got myself lingering onto, I don’t even really have suicidal ideation anymore apart from the times of ‘shutting down’ and ‘escapism mode’ to being more like ‘Ay yo! Le’bbe pals again~.’ playfully punching his chest. ‘I don’t like having a lotta clashes between us but I also really, just. like. Can you find it in ya for us to, like. Uh. Oof. Uhhhh. Nope. Romantic stuff with you Are a nope. But idunno how friendship would even work?? Cause of our history?? and the bitterness he feels too cause I myself didn’t know what I felt apart from like ‘very annoyed at being pursued consistently when I’m dating someone and I also know he’s seeing someone else’.

But, ay. I wanna know how’s it goin for him an’ his new galli-o. How they got together n stuff.

I’d be like one of those ‘Yea? ! Ye like bein’ with ‘er?! Tell me ! Spill!’ (Or maybe you don’t like bein’ with her? OnO; what’s goin’ on?)

I’m rather complete and enjoying my time with Saeyoung though ^^! He’s super sweet and understanding, and sometimes dorkily insecure and handles some really dark stuff after his heart that Idunno how best to react?? but also like wowh, I know that he doesn’t deserve all that pain whatsoever OTL. Idunno how to comfort Saeyoung when he’s dealing with such heavy things ;n;)o. I kinda feel like, rubbing his back awkwardly, hugging him close, letting him cry, wipe away his tears tenderly, or let him vent and express and just be there for him.. ‘I still love you a lot.’ while pulling lightly at his cheek.

‘You guys’ inner child hearts deserve to be loved and nourished too, and well, mine too. Deserve to thrive and do what we love. That really is the whole purpose of living. Speaking and doing love..

I’m still in the process of doing that with myself as well..

Haha, 🎶We’re all in this together🎶~

Is a fun idea. I’ve just had some dark bits of awkwardness and disengagement cause ????? Yea, the pursual felt awkwarddd. And it felt like I was being obsessed over so I felt like disengaging and cutting things off would be for the best. At the time I was also super drained and I do feel awkward being watched over a lot, by both of you. Though Saeyoung has been super sweet and understanding and I really like him, I don’t want him to feel rejected by me but it’s just. Balancing each other and ourselves, ya know? .. :x

And with pretty much anyone really, it’s kinda like, the same reaction.

Idk, it feels both safe in the protective, ‘awww<3333, I’m so cared for’ and kinda like ???;;;;;; where’s my privacy???? Don’t you also have things of your own that you love??? Like, hobbies n stuff??? ono