#but to be fair there isn’t anything worth anything in my car

[chloepleasestopdying]

Someone broke into my car and stole my passenger side window visor

What the fuck dude

[insidekatmind]

Secret love~Pope Heyward

It was a humid afternoon on the beach, the air heavy with the salty scent of the sea and the sun baking the dunes. Sitting on the shiny hood of your SUV, you watched the Pogues playing frisbee farther ahead, JJ’s laughter echoing through the air. But your eyes were fixed on him: Pope Heyward. Despite the differences, despite the fact that you were a Kook and he was a Pogue, something about him had always drawn you in. His intelligence, his calm but determined spirit. And now, after months of secret meetings, the bond between you two had grown into something deeper than you’d ever imagined.

---

“Pope, we have to be careful,” you’d whispered the night before, while the two of you hid in the old warehouse behind the Twinkie. There, far from prying eyes of friends and family, you had found a little refuge.

“Careful about what?” he had replied, his hands clutching yours. “That someone will find out we’re happy? That I, a Pogue, dared to love a Kook?”

His eyes were filled with emotion, a mix of frustration and yearning for freedom. But you knew how risky it was. Being discovered would mean scandal for you and perhaps worse for him.

“It’s not that simple,” you’d said, taking a shaky breath. “You don’t understand how my world works. Appearances are everything. And you… we… we can’t be found out, Pope.”

“Oh, I understand perfectly,” he’d said, with an intensity that made you hold your breath. “But you know what? I’m tired of pretending. I’m tired of acting like it doesn’t mean anything when you’re next to me. I can’t keep hiding as if I’m the one doing something wrong. This is love, not a crime.”

---

The next day, while the other Pogues enjoyed the sun, Pope approached your car quietly. You only noticed him when he knocked lightly on the window.

“We need to talk,” he said, his voice serious.

You knew it wasn’t the right place, but something in his eyes made you nod. You moved to the passenger seat, letting him climb in.

“Are you crazy? What happens if someone sees you here?” you hissed, but he didn’t seem worried at all.

“I don’t care anymore,” he said with disarming sincerity. “I don’t care if JJ or Kie or your family finds out about us. I don’t want our relationship to be a secret. Why should we be ashamed of something so beautiful?”

“Because the world isn’t that simple, Pope,” you replied, your voice trembling. “You live in a world where you’re free to be who you want. I… I’m a prisoner to other people’s expectations.”

“You’re not a prisoner to anything,” he shot back, taking your hand. “You decide who you want to be. And if you can’t break free from these chains, then tell me, is this even worth it? Is it worth hiding, lying, when we could just be happy together, out in the open?”

You felt breathless because a part of you knew he was right. But another part of you was still terrified. That fear kept you awake at night, and now it was keeping you tethered to your world of appearances. You didn’t answer right away. You looked out the window, toward the ocean, as the internal struggle consumed you.

“Pope…” you started, but he interrupted you.

“You’re everything I want,” he said, his voice cracking with emotion. “But I can’t keep living like I’m stealing something that doesn’t belong to me. Tell me what you really want. Tell me this isn’t just a dream, and I’ll fight anyone for us.”

---

You turned toward the beach, watching the waves crash against the shore. The weight of his words pressed heavily on your heart. You knew Pope was right. You knew that hiding wasn’t fair, that what you felt for each other deserved to be lived in the open. But there was a part of you, the part raised among the rules and expectations of the Kooks, that still resisted.

Yet, at that moment, as you watched him walk away, something inside you changed. You couldn’t let him go. You couldn’t let your love for him be suffocated by fear. You shot to your feet, stepping out of the car and running toward him.

“Pope!” you called out, your voice trembling but resolute. He stopped, turning back with a surprised, almost disbelieving expression. When you reached him, you halted a step away, your breathing uneven.

“I don’t want to lose you,” you said, your voice breaking with emotion. “You’re right. There’s no point in hiding. There’s no point in being afraid. I love you, Pope. And I’m ready to fight for us.”

He stayed silent for a moment, as if trying to process whether you were really saying those words. Then, an incredible smile spread across his face, and his eyes lit up with a happiness you’d never seen before.

“Do you really mean that?” he asked, a trace of hope in his voice.

You didn’t answer with words. You stepped closer and kissed him, oblivious to the world around you. It was a kiss full of emotion, of liberation, as if in that moment, you’d found the courage you’d been missing. You felt his hands wrap around you, his warmth enveloping you. In that moment, nothing else mattered. Not the Kooks, not the Pogues, not the rules. Just the two of you.

When you pulled away, Pope looked at you with eyes full of emotion. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this moment,” he said softly, brushing your cheek. “I don’t care what anyone else says. As long as I have you, I can face anything.”

You laughed, a spontaneous and light sound, realizing how silly it had been to be afraid for so long. “Then we’ll face it all together,” you replied. “I’m done hiding.”

As you walked back to the beach, hand in hand, the Pogues looked up at you, clearly surprised. JJ let out a theatrical whistle, and Kie’s eyes widened, but no one said anything. You knew there would be difficult moments ahead, but in that instant, with Pope by your side, you felt invincible.

The choice had been made, and for the first time, you felt truly alive.

[beweepbomp]

I NEEDED TO URGENTLY VENT BECAUSE IDK WAHT ELSE TO DO.

A lil background. I knew my sexuality as like early as 12. I had two gfs but never anything physical. Now as adult trying to venture out to physical things with another woman. This person we will refer to as Lizzy, from the convos we had never was with a woman in any manner ever but interested to try with me. Okay now this is the insane shit i went thru. enjoy.

Lizzy matched on tinder with me and she asked after some great chit chatting to exchange #'s. Sounds great what could go wrong. After several back n forth spicy texts of what we want to do finally we say hey we should definitely meet up. A few days pass by to finally our meet up date. Science. Ghosted. Okay no biggie. 19 DAYS LATER “Hi i got busy how are you?” I brush it off things do happen and I’m trying to be reasonable. I reply with a hello. No reply again. 40 DAYS LATER “How are you?” At this point I roll my eyes. This is not worth the energy but wow she’s actually replying back idk maybe just shit happens. She tells me it’s been a busy summer travel & work. Okay fair. She shows me cute magnets she made and tells me she’s house sitting.

After a few text exchanges she’s asking me to come over. I get hesitant but she insists. WHAT COULD GO WRONG I SAY? I text her I’ll get ready and take an Uber over. Let me tell you i was giving femme hotness. My skirt was so hiked up. My cute shirt low v cut. Had a jean jacket since it was late into the night. I’m jittery with excitement. I call my best friend she gets the address and says to text me after etc. I order the Uber which was $30+ DOLLARS but i was too excited to care. In the middle of my Uber drive she texts she’s having a panic attack and throwing up. I feel awful. Did i freak her out? But i kept reassuring that we don’t need to do anything physical even when i arrive. No pressure. Assuring to have full consent before engaging in anything. But she insists she’s stuck in the bathroom throwing up and to turn around. Now I’m over 20 minutes away from my apartment around 11:30pm in the middle of the damn suburbs. I arrive and ask by text if i can just sit in the living room until the next Uber comes she says no. I’m outside alone in a foreign place terrified. I video chat with my best friend explaining the situation and she’s in shock as well. Putting me in danger in the middle of nowhere , just alone. Just perfect. My gay ass in the wind trying to remain calm since the streets are barely lit and i have no immediate way home. The connection to data is shitty but im able to order another Uber. Another $30+ out of to go back. But it’s fine no one’s fault right.

She insistently asks texting when my Uber will ber here. My connection isn’t great but it shows 9 minutes. It’s been at least 8 minutes now but the Uber isn’t properly showing the accurate time. My best friend what a god send kept me sane as i waited but a car pulls up and it definitely isn’t my Uber. “Oh i thought you were the girl im meeting with.” OH MY GOD i laugh almost loosing my mind. I point to her house, “oh no no she’s in there.’ Thankfully my Uber arrives as the guy calls out you’re beautiful. Oh thanks bud. Lizzy texts me to say that’s my friend helping me with my panic attack. of course i say seriously you have to be fucking joking. I freak out on her thru text and she insists she’d never intentionally try to put anyone in danger and every other excuse in the book and STILL try’s to see if we will meet up again. Of course i tell her she is fucking nuts and maybe next time be a hospitable hoe if you’re gonna be a hoe at all. I’m not against it but also don’t make a crazy lie and embarrass me. I have no idea im like crushed to seek out afraid to have the same experience of wacky shit. What do i do???? Help pls

[sourholland]

WELCOME TO THE STYLE MASTERLIST

based off of taylor swift’s song style

a/n → hope u guys like this :)

summary → he’s the quarterback of the cincinnati bengals, a worldwide heartthrob with an ego the size of lake erie—but does he have the heart to match it? you’re the bengals newest cheerleader, desperate to prove how much you deserve your spot on the team. it doesn’t take much to catch the eye of joe burrow, however that isn’t necessarily a good thing when you’re told that any romantic relations between cheerleaders and players is strictly prohibited.

warnings → strong language, alcohol

word count → 3.3k

remember to reblog and leave some comments if you enjoy!

SERIES MASTERLIST

Chapter 6

“It’s one picture, don’t drive yourself crazy over it,” Joe’s voice came through your phone. “I get why you’re freaking out, but I think we both agree that it could be a lot worse.”

“That’s the problem. This was our first time out together, who’s to say there aren’t more pictures like this but worse? We haven’t exactly been careful about seeing each other, Joe.”

There was a brief silence, the sound of his car air conditioner creating a white noise in the background of your phone call. He texted you back almost instantaneously after you sent him the screenshot from Twitter. He said he would have to tell his coaches he was having an important family matter so that they would allow him to walk out to take the call in the middle of analyzing game film. It took him all but five minutes to get outside and phone you.

“I know,” he sighed, inhaling a quick breath before he spoke again. “We’ll be better about stuff, you know I’ll make sure I’m not so–”

“It’s more than that and you know it. This doesn’t just end with one shitty photo on Twitter, it only gets worse from here. It makes no difference if we’re trying harder to sneak around because at some point one of us is going to fuck up, that’s if we already haven’t and don’t know, and then would all of this have been worth it?” You snapped at him, thankful he could not see the tears threatening to spill over and dampen your cheeks. “The fucking around and being casual hookup buddies. Will it have been worth it? Maybe for you, but that’s because you’re Joe Burrow and we both know we’re not even in remotely similar spots in this situation.”

“What are fucking talking about? That’s all bullshit, you know that’s bullshit,” his voice raised slightly, a twinge of hurt evident. “Look, Y/N–I understand that we aren’t exactly in the same position, but that doesn’t make it fair for you to act like none of this matters to me or whatever the fuck you’re going on about as far as all of this being worth it. What’s going on between us has never had anything to do with me, or my name, or what position I hold on the team.”

“Do you hear yourself right now? Of course it has something to do with who you are, it always had something to do with who you are and you can’t seriously tell me you don’t know that. You’re in the NFL and a star quarterback for fucks sake. You went to the Super Bowl last year! You can’t seriously sit here and tell me we’re risking the same things?”

The line was quiet, save for the sound of both of you breathing. Perhaps you were being petty, but Joe was being inconsiderate of what a loss of job would mean for you. He sounded hurt by the fact that the two of you hooking up was not a good enough reason to lose out on the extra money. The public humiliation you would receive was a whole different factor to be conquered in itself. While you might not know what this was like for him, he sure as hell wouldn’t ever know what it is like for you. 

Social status and money were such fickle things, seemingly unimportant in some scenarios until suddenly they became the center of the universe again. Joe would never again live a fully mundane life, he couldn’t see through the eyes of a college student who already had trouble making ends meet. It felt so unfair to know how this story would end, however if you could potentially stop it from being made worse, you might be thankful in the long run. 

“You’re right, that was a stupid thing for me to say. But Y/N, I’m just as much in this as you. It’s not easy for me either.”

“It shouldn’t have to be hard,” you sighed, face hot with emotion as you stared downward at your feet. “I just feel like we might be better off leaving this where it is, you know? Before things get messy. Which they will, you know they will.”

Joe didn’t speak at first, his silence left a sharp ache to burrow itself deep within your ribcage. His voice came out firm but hoarse, “If that’s what you want.”

As your breath grew slightly ragged, you realized that you hadn’t been preparing for his nonchalant response. Selfishly, you let a hand slide to your chest and then throat as you swallowed and attempted to formulate a response to his words. The line was silent, save for the sound of Joe’s breathing. 

“Is that what you want?” You asked him.

“It seems like that’s what you want, seeing as you were the one who brought it up. And if this is just sex then why should it matter?” said Joe, his tone defensive and his voice breathier than usual. “This is just sex to you, right?”

No, you wanted to shout at him. This is so much more than sex and you know that, but the second you said it aloud it could not be taken back and then things truly became complicated. Joe wished to provoke you, the tone of his voice said as much. This annoyed you, his desire to make this even more difficult for you. 

“What do you want me to say to that?” 

“It’s a simple question,” Joe hurled, clearly irritated.

“No, it’s not. You know that,” you sniffled. “How I feel about you doesn’t matter when we’re in this situation, anyway.”

“Bullshit, it’s not a simple question because you’re making it complicated. How you feel doesn’t matter because you say it doesn’t matter,” Joe answered furiously. “Look, I have to get back inside, but I just want to say that you saying all of this right now is really fucking selfish. Especially after all of the mixed signals you send… I never know what you actually want from me. One second you’re pissed off at the idea of me even seeing another girl and now you’re breaking stuff off with me over the phone.”

You flinched at his assessment, “I’m just trying to do the right thing for both of us.”

“Yeah, whatever you say,” he replied, voice dripping with sarcasm.

The line went dead and you knew he had hung up, frustrated with you and the entire situation. You let your hands run over your face, feeling a deep pain in your chest as you buried your face into the blankets on your couch that still held his distant scent. He surely hated now, unable to comprehend how deep your feelings for him went. Much deeper than his for you, you were sure of. When you told him that your relationship would grow messy, you hadn’t been lying. However, a piece of you was not solely referring to the conflict within your work. 

You debated calling him back, but knew that he would have already made it back into the facility. He sounded so upset with you, more so than he had ever been before. Joe was usually quite relaxed and level-headed, though now he was most definitely frustrated by the argument itself. 

Joe made no other attempts to contact you for the remainder of the day. That night, you let your phone sit idly by as you made dinner and still nothing. Maybe the two of you had broken up, that was what you had insisted anyways. He made you act like a complete idiot sometimes, thoughts skewed and rash as if you were once again sixteen. Nothing about Joe was in disarray, he always seemed to know exactly what he wanted to say and do. It never came out awkward or clunky, despite how he described his usual anxiety during interviews.

Attempting to sleep was difficult, your mind racing a mile a minute. Thoughts of Joe persisted, leaving you ridden with guilt and sadness about the supposed no contact. You knew not to text, though. Not only would it have been unfair to you, but Joe as well. There was also the fact that it would never work between the two of you, the carousel of disappointment and pain was unavoidable. 

⋆------------⋆

The Bengals lost their next preseason game against the Giants, the game was close but ended the same as the Cardinals had. The only difference in this game was Joe’s attendance, he wore a headset on the sidelines with his coaches as the team played. Still out on injury, he was helping to give instruction to his teammates most of the game. 

You had briefly locked eyes with Joe before the game began, everyone scrambling about to get into positions. His expression was blank, as if he had no idea who you were and there was never anything there. Your eyes raked over him, the way that the shirt he wore hugged his biceps and back. Joe spared the cheerleaders more glances than usual this game, watching more than he ever had time to while playing. You caught his lingering gaze once or twice, mind racing.

The final preseason game against the Rams played out the exact same, save for the fact that the Bengals won. It had been two weeks between the game and the morning of yours and Joe’s heated argument. The post on Twitter had somewhat died off at twenty thousand likes and his fans eventually found something new to speculate about. 

Sydney and Lena were absolutely furious when you divulged all information regarding the fight you had caused, earning a few much deserved playful swots to the arm. They attempted to coerce you into calling him and smoothing things over, insisting that you shouldn’t just end things on such an awful note. Once you explained more of the predicament and how you felt no desire to be ripped apart on the internet or by your coaches, both girls simply sighed and nodded at your decision. They understood how difficult it was for you, especially after silent tears had begun to fall during the long winded explanation of how seriously NFL executives and management took player-cheerleader fraternization and how it would unfortunately not just be swept under the rug when you two inevitably got caught.

The wallowing in self-pity lasted for another week before the girls had finally called for the bedrotting to end, “Babe, don’t cry. Come on, wipe those tears. We���re going out tonight,” said Sydney, sitting criss cross on your bedroom floor. “It’s Friday night, you’re hot as fuck and you’re an NFL cheerleader. I love you so I’m going to be honest with you right now, I get that you fumbled Joe Burrow, but we both know that he was just a guy at the end of the day. So again, you are hot as fuck and we’re going out. What do I always say?”

“I’m not feeling it tonight, Syd,” your reply was muffled as you spoke into the pillow you lay face down into. “Go without me.”

“Bitch, stop. You’re going out, we’re getting fucked up. Lena’s already on her way over here and you know she’s not leaving without you so let’s go. You’ll feel better, by the time we get to the club you’re going to be like ‘Who’s Joe Burrow anyways?’”

“Somehow I highly doubt that,” you sighed, turning to look up at the ceiling. “You don’t want me to come, I’m miserable and sad and I’m only going to spoil everyone’s fun.”

“I don’t care, Y/N. Spoil my fun, ruin my night, I’d say throw up in my clutch but you already managed that last time we went out. I just want to see you out of this bed for something other than practice, work, or class. You’re like a ghost and I’m not going to watch you throw away your senior year because of some erotic work hookup with a guy who I’m sure couldn’t even hold a candle to you,” Sydney spieled, perched on the edge of your bed. “The only way to get over a man is to get under a new one!”

Eventually Sydney did manage to get you up, it only took ripping all of the blankets off of you and hiding your phone. Once Lena came in and began tidying up the somewhat mess you’d been allowing to collect, you realized getting out was probably the best course of action. Although you had no plans of getting under any new guy, Sydney appreciated your partially willing participation once she began to do your hair and makeup. 

Lena dumped a bag of going out tops onto your bed, sifting through them and throwing each top into a certain pile. Some of them were from freshman year, leaving both you and Sydney to cringe and shout at her to make sure it went into the rapidly growing mass of ‘absolutely not’ tops. Eventually you settled for a fitted lilac top, adorned with sheer lace everywhere but the cups. Sydney wore a timeless black bodysuit that she had swiped from your closet during study abroad and Lena opted for blue slip dress and promised Sydney she would take care of her leather jacket if she let her borrow it.

The three of you Ubered to the club, knowing that you planned to drink. As soon as you slid into the backseat of the SUV, Sydney pulled her purse into her lap and was suddenly handing out shooters. There was one Malibu, a Fireball, and a Pink Whitney.

“Fuck that, I can’t even smell that shit without wanting to throw up,” you shook your head, pretending to gag in a dramatic motion. “You’re better off throwing the Pink Shitney out the window.”

“Throw up?” The driver’s head whipped towards the backseat suddenly. “No, no! If you throw up, I charge extra.”

“Nobody is going to throw up, sir,” Lena reassured him and looked back at both you and Sydney with a laugh. “Well, I don’t want it either. Rock, paper, scissors?”

Sydney and Lena went first, Lena won and chose the Malibu. You faced Sydney now, playing rock as she threw out scissors and proceeded to hunch over in fake despair as you snatched the shot of Fireball. Not that the taste was much better, but after a few horrible experiences with Pink Whitney during freshman year, you could no longer stomach it without revisiting the memories of endless mornings spent hugging the toilet bowl of your dorm floor after drinking with your girls and relishing in the alcohol that tastes identical to Minute Maid once you grew drunk enough.

The drive to the club was about fifteen minutes from your apartment, each of you taking a couple of photos together and dissecting Lena’s texts with her ex from the night before.Sydney was bantering with the driver once you finally pulled up beside the curb out front of the club, a considerably long queue already forming at the front door. 

“You look so hot,” Lena told you, practically skipping to join the line and get inside. “So do you, Syd.”

The bouncer worked quickly, only sending a few people away as he looked over IDs and gestured clusters inside of the club. Thankfully, your fake ID days had passed and you were finally able to toss it. Most of the drinking you had done over the course of your time at school was with small groups of girlfriends and occasionally nights spent at sleazy bars that weren’t strict about obviously fake IDs. Frats had never been your scene, although you managed to go a few times during your freshman year for the experience.

Once the three of you made it inside, Sydney immediately went to the bar after claiming the first round of drinks were on her. There were colorful lights illuminating the crowded atmosphere of those dancing and drinking with friends. The club mix that was playing boomed, your ears adjusting to the insanely loud music as Sydney approached with drinks and held up her phone to snap a photo of you and Lena.

“Drink up!” Sydney called out to both of you, taking a long sip and looking around the club in search of tonight’s target. 

It didn’t take long for Lena to pull both of you to dance, integrating yourselves with a group of sweaty, twenty-something girls who were the level of drunk you hoped to be soon enough. The floor vibrated, moisture collecting at your temples and hairline as you rocked against Sydney in a slightly buzzed bliss. One of the girls you had just met had her arms thrown around your neck, all of you singing at different pitches. 

A rotation of going to grab more drinks and then rejoining your group on the floor had begun, both you and Lena alternating who bought the next round of shots after Sydney found a cute guy at the bar to flirt with. The film of sweat clinging to your skin became unnoticeable after you grew drunk enough to stop caring, your face hot from drinking and dancing. 

“Lena!” You called over the music, drink in-hand. “I have to pee, I’ll be right back!”

“What?” She leaned in. “Bathroom? I’ll come with you!”

“No, stay! I’ll be good,” you promised, knowing she had already made two trips with you.

“You sure?”

“Yes!” You shouted over your shoulder, already making your way to the slightly grungy, low-lit bathroom.

There was a singular open stall, stray bits of toilet paper and a fake eyelash adorning the floor as you drunkenly made your way around the girls reapplying makeup in the mirror. Thoughts of the game washed over you, in turn bringing on thoughts of Joe. Something about going to the bathroom and finally having a few moments of peace allowed you to assess how intoxicated you truly were, which was considerable. The thought of talking to him outweighed the small voice of reason in the back of your mind, ultimately deciding that it would be a problem for your sober self.

As you left the bathroom, rather than going back out to dance with Lena, you leaned against the wall of the hallway and braced yourself in order to stay upright. You pulled your phone from your clutch, sighing and opening his contact. It was late, he might be asleep, you thought. Without thinking much, you dazedly pressed the call button and closed your eyes as the phone rang and you awaited his potential answer.

“Y/N,” his voice came through clear, not even taking two rings to pick up your call.

“Hi, Joe,” you concentrated very hard on your tone and slightly slurred speech, doing your best to sound sober.”M’sorry it’s so late, I just–I was thinking about you, which I know that I shouldn’t because we’re broken up but I was. I wanted to talk to you, I know you probably hate me and everything, or I hate you or whatever. I shouldn’t have called you, I’m sorry.”

“Are you drunk?” His voice comes out level, emotionless even.

The silence between the two of you is palpable, “No,” you hiccup.

He says nothing for a few seconds, “Are you at the club?”

“Why would you ask that?”

“I can hear music and people talking, it sounds like you’re in a club.”

This was wrong, you should not be calling Joe. Why couldn’t you shake him? After all of this, you only continued to want more. All you have done is hurt him and yourself through this situation, unable to make up your mind. Everything you have worked so hard for should be worth more than Joe Burrow, so why didn’t it feel like that?

“Yeah,” you replied, the slurring evident in your voice. “You got me.”

“This isn’t fair, YN… You calling me fucked up and out with who the hell knows isn’t right, not after you call me and tell me you would rather, ‘leave things where they are.’ I like you! I feel like I have made that incredibly obvious, and yet here we are once again.” He rattled off, voice slightly raised. “Look, I’m sorry to be an asshole but clearly you either can’t see or don’t care about how this has affected me or my life. And I get it, you’re still in college and we’re just in completely different stages of life as far as your age–”

“My age?” You finally interrupted his rambling, ready to counter him with what you would most likely regret saying tomorrow. “How come you’re suddenly so fucking mature and I’m just a kid?”

“Well for starters, you are the one who blindsided me a few weeks ago over the phone. You are the one who just called me up at one in the morning, for what? To tell me again that you don’t want to be with me? Or is this some sick joke where you apologize and then can’t remember when you wake up?” He snapped at you. “So yeah, Y/N… I would go as far as to say you’re the immature one in this situation.”

It was as if the wind had been knocked out of you, internalizing Joe’s words as you shifted weight from one foot to the other. Everything was fuzzy, your thoughts askew and irrational as you tried to compile the right words to respond with. He had never taken that tone with you before, nor had he ever sounded so hurt. Maybe he was right.

“I’m sorry, Joe,” was all you could muster without giving away how inebriated you truly are, figuring that would only make things worse. “I regret everything, all of it. We shouldn’t have started anything in the first place, but everytime you come near me it’s just so hard not to want you–” You trailed off, regret was most definitely not the right word, you mean to say that you regret how things have played out.

“Y/N, stop. You’re drunk and you don’t know what you’re saying,” he sighed. “Are you safe? Should I get you an Uber or do you have a way home?”

“I’m fine, don’t worry about me,” you say quietly.

“Then I’m gonna get off of here, call me once you’ve sobered up.”

His words stung, your heart cracking at the justifiable dismissal. He was most definitely not in the wrong here, but it didn’t make it any less hard. His usual flirtation and humor was long gone, replaced by obvious disdain due to the way you had ended things. 

“Bye, Joe.”

“Get home safe, Y/N.”

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[sergeantbarnessdoll]

Idk if you're still taking requests, but I have one if you do have some time 🥺🥺

I went to see my family after a while, and it was awful. There was no kind words and I had successfully avoided them until they caught me as I was leaving. My only saving grace was my adorable 4 year old niece. On the flight back, it took everything in me to not bawl my eyes out and just pretend to be occupied. But when I came home I just cried myself to sleep. I really just wanted someone there to tell me that I'm worth it and not just a burden. It's tiring to pretend I'm okay and not lonely with no one in my corner.

If this isn't too heavy for you, totally understand if it is. Could you do Steve and Bucky just being there for the reader. Maybe they heard the end of the convo with her family and waited until they got home to comfort her.

Thank you, and please feel free to ignore if this is too much, I can understand ❤️❤️

Not A Burden » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier and Steve Rogers/Captain America

Pairings: Best Friend!Bucky Barnes x Best Friend!Female Reader x Best Friend!Steve Rogers

Summary: Bucky and Steve comfort you after visiting your family.

Warnings: Fluff, language, crying, cuddling, use of pet names

A/N: Thank you to the lovely anonymous person who requested this🩵 also I had my fair share of awfulness with my family over the years. Just know it gets better, but it takes time🩷

Written on my phone. I’m sorry for any mistakes.

Header made by @buckys-wintersoldier

GIFS ARE NOT MINE! Credit goes to the creators. I found these on Pinterest.

Bucky and Steve knew something was wrong when they heard the tone of your voice when you were talking to your family. They went with you to visit your family for the day. You thought it would be easier knowing that they’re with you. It was, but your family didn’t make it any easier. You tried your best to keep quiet and not start a fight, but your family constantly started fights and arguments when you didn’t want to do that. Bucky and Steve caught the end of the conversation with you and your family before leaving.

“I don’t know why I even came here if I’m just going to get blamed for something I didn’t even do!” You shouted.

They heard the crack in your voice. You stormed past Steve and Bucky, making your way to the car. They watched as you got in the car and slammed the car door. They took that as a sign that you wanted to go home. They said a quick goodbye to your family and left. You were really quiet on the car ride home. Normally you point out the scenery, but this time you didn’t. You just put your headphones in your ears and listened to music on your phone the whole ride home. Bucky and Steve occasionally glanced back at you to make sure you were ok. They knew you weren’t. They brainstormed ways of how to make you feel better when you guys got home.when you guys got home, you immediately went to your bedroom and slammed your bedroom door, making it echo throughout the apartment. They went to your room and knocked on your bedroom door.

“I’m fine!” You say through tears.

Steve and Bucky sighed before opening the door and walked in your room to see you crying in your pillow. Their hearts broke when they seen you like this. They sat down on either side of you and rubbed your back to calm you down. They decided to get you talking when your cries decreased a little bit.

“Do you want to tell us what you and your family were arguing about before we left?” Steve asks softly.

You sat up and faced them, your eyes red and puffy from crying and your cheeks wet with tears.

“It’s always the same argument with my family.” You start. “I’ve always been the family member they didn’t love cause my mom had me at a young age and my dad didn’t stick around to help raise me.” You tell them.

“That shouldn’t be your fault.” Bucky says.

“Try saying that to them.” You sighed. “Everything is my fault to them. They blame me for the stupidest things.” You say.

“Anything they said isn’t true.” Steve says.

“They don’t know how amazing you are.” Bucky says.

“They don’t think so.” You looked down and picked at your nails. “Apparently to them, I’m worthless and a burden.” You say, tears brimming in your eyes again.

You looked up when Steve and Bucky gently grabbed your hands. They watched as a single tear rolled down your cheek. Bucky reached his right hand up to your cheek, gently caressing it and wiped your tears away.

“Never say that about yourself, sweetheart.” Steve says softly.

“You’re definitely not a burden. You’re worth it in so many ways.” Bucky adds.

“Thanks, but you guys are only saying that because you’re my best friends.” You say and sniffled.

“We mean it, doll.” Bucky says.

They’re right and you know it. A smile slowly formed on your face. They always know what to say when you’re upset. You sat up on your knees and hugged them.

“You guys really know how to make a girl feel special.” You say.

“It’s our job to make you feel special.” Steve says.

You kissed their cheeks and sat back down. Then your phone dinged. You grabbed your phone from your nightstand, smiling when you seen a text from your 4 year old niece who most likely stole her mom’s phone to text you. Your smile got wider when you opened the text and seen a cute picture of her.

“Who is it?” Bucky asks.

“My niece stole my sister’s phone to send me a cute picture of herself.” You say, showing them the picture.

Bucky and Steve looked at the picture and smiled.

“It’s nice to know that your niece brings out your happiness.” Bucky says.

“So do you guys.” You smiled. “I love you guys so much.” You say.

“We love you too.” They say in unison and kissed your cheeks.

🩵💙🩵💙🩵💙🩵💙🩵💙🩵💙🩵💙🩵💙🩵

-Bucky’s Doll

[yuzukult]

untitled teaser | hvc & reader

title: currently untitled pairing: vernon x fem!reader/oc rating: rated m for final fic genre: angst, fluff, smut, wealthy!vernon, unrequited love!au (on both sides, it gets flipped lol... idk it's a confusing one) wc: 10k+ (ongoing) warnings: clubbing, adult themes, oc tries to seduce vernon lol, grinding...... idk just club things a/n: this is what i have been working on instead of actually finishing my own series HAHA i currently don't have a title but if you wanna give me some ideas lemme know ,,,, currently the doc title is "attention"

The burst of blackberry, a tart aroma with hints of bay leaves and cedarwood, has you intoxicated over his cologne alone. His slicked back chestnut brown hair, the calmness he exhibits, and his quiet, mysterious exterior is supposed to make him seem unnoticeable; yet for some reason, he’s always the most attention-grabbing in a room full of people.

Besides his handsome looks, he’s wealthy. The thickness of his bank account doesn’t present itself through his narrow, slim wallet, mostly because he doesn’t showcase the worth of his business unless it’s an obligation. He’s successful, yet remains humble about it; his clothes are made from the luxury brands without it embossed on the outer material, instead the names are stitched inside to keep himself modest. 

His car is the only thing that advertises the amount of digits that his business profits. The fastest, sleekest, and illustrious cars are the ones that he owns—from Corvettes to Teslas to Bentleys—he collects a plethora of them, those three barely denting all the marques, he finds himself indulging in that category and limits it to just that. Fine dining isn’t a necessity, but he does it for ventures required by his company. Expensive hotels and stays are just for comfort, but not something he needs, understanding that it’s more of a want if anything.

Hansol Vernon Chwe is just that guy.

Apart from all of that, Vernon is still an average person—other than the fact that you practically drool over the sight of him and he’s in the 1%. He’s sweet and kind, a general minimum trait that men should have, but he’s also good at overextending himself when people need him to. Last year, he hosted a gala for the Children with Cancer Foundation, earning more than enough donations and then on top of it matching the amount that was donated from others. 

Geez. Even your panties are getting drenched at the thought of him just busting out that fucking power move.

Unfortunately, as much as you boldly put yourself out there, Vernon is unavailable. Emotionally, probably, but mostly because he clearly states that you just… weren’t his type. You’re not a mirror of him; there’s never saccharine words that leave your lips unless it’s to seduce, donating to charities isn’t really on your list of priorities, and to be quite fair, you weren’t much of a charming go-getter as he is either. 

Opposites attract you’d try to justify, but to Vernon, that’s not enough.

Your gripe with Vernon isn’t because he rejected you—it’s that he rejects you but still likes to be… around you. When you’re out on Friday and Saturday nights, your mutual friends lead the group to hang, and when he hears your name included in the list of attendees, he’s there. Even after a long day of dealing with difficult people, you can expect to see Vernon there in his white dress shirt with the first couple buttons unraveled, resting on one of the couches at a table in the VIP lounge, legs parted in his trousers. 

He’s just sitting casually, but he looks like he owns the place.

“You sure you don’t wanna date?” you ask, lips almost brushing against his outer ear as he lets out a soft chuckle and brings his glass of whiskey on ice to his mouth. The music is loud, booming in the speakers of the dim club with strobe lights, making it hard to have any decent conversation but to be honest—who is even trying to talk here when their bodies should be?

“You’re pretty,” he admits, his chocolate swirls of eyes locking with yours. “And—I’m attracted to you. But for dating… you don’t really fit my criteria.” 

Criteria. He says it like he has a checklist for the girl he wants to date. 

Despite constantly hitting on him, you knew your limits for the night. Patting his clothed thigh with your manicured hands, you lean in to press a gentle kiss on his cheek. “Okay, then I’ll leave you for the night. Maybe I’ll try again—but for now, I’m not gonna let today be ruined because Vernon Chwe said ‘no’ to me,” you smirk, pulling down the hem of your dress before standing up. Gesturing to a friend, she excitedly gets up from her seat before shuffling to you. “Let’s go dance!”

Vernon is a liar.

He likes you—a lot. The way you laugh, covering your mouth with your hand as if he still can’t see how far your jaw drops when you’re cackling. His favorite view is when you’re just tipsy enough that your hooded eyes become more alluring, cheeks hot from the alcohol, and your words slurring with weighted truths to them. The last time you were drunk, you admitted that you wanted his dick in your mouth. Vulgar but… still honest.

Dating you meant drama—well, dating in general meant drama, and Vernon knows how you are. You’re not labeled a “drama queen” per se, but you are definitely quite the handful. He saw how defensive you got when a random guy at the club turned down your friend Sana because her nose was a little too big; those earrings were unlatched, dropped into Sana’s palms and somehow your shoe was in your hand, ready to swing.

Okay—he concedes. He kind of enjoys seeing you be like that.

Vernon is calm, cool, and collected. With you being the opposite, he’s not sure if being with someone that intense is good for him. You’re not who people expect to stand by his side when he’s at a banquet or when he’s on those business trips—your party lifestyle reminds him of those people who don’t ever settle, live on breaking hearts, and he’s partially afraid he’ll just be another number on your list of another one you’ll hurt. 

Not to mention that he’s not entirely sure that you’re the type of girl his parents would like if they met you.

You’re entertaining, he’ll agree to that, but you're far from someone who could be his more. You’re aggressive, overly outspoken, and worst of all, you do weird things to him.

You’re the cause for his heart stuttering—he almost mistook it for a heart attack—and you’re the reason why he paces back and forth when he accidentally said something that was borderline offensive in the midst of vetoing the chance of ‘us’ yet again, concerned that those harsh words are why you don’t return his texts. Only then, he realizes you’ve napped through the afternoon and didn’t get a chance to check your phone. And even on those really arduous days where his clients tend to be a little more finicky than usual, you still manage to make him laugh and feel the burden lift from his shoulders. How are you able to do those things to him without much of an effort?

Yet, at the same time, you’re also the pounds of stress that replaces the burden. 

Especially at times like these.

There’s a lot of things about you that he likes, but one of the things he doesn’t like is how quick you're on your feet when he turns you down. It barely takes minutes or even seconds after he says ‘you’re not my type’ before you down a couple shots and head to the dance floor with your ass against some other guy’s crotch.

“Oh,” Vernon’s friend, Mingyu, sings in amusement. “She’s dancing with Minghao.”

Vernon furrows his brows. Who the fuck is Minghao? Not all the words that pour in his thoughts spill from his tongue. “Minghao?” 

Mingyu nods, mid sip of his cognac. Cognac isn’t much different from whiskey, as much as people think—the only thing disparate between the two is that cognac derives from grapes and whiskey comes from grains. Vernon just prefers his whiskey over cognac; he can’t actually tell them apart, but he just… favors the one more than the other.

“Yeah, Xu Minghao. Heard he fucks… like well.”

Vernon scoffs. “… He fucks. Like well?”

Mingyu nods, lips pulling into a straight line as he swirls the drink in his hand. The condensation falls, dripping onto the fabric of his jeans but he could care less, especially when his own girlfriend is on the dance floor beside you, who wasn’t Vernon’s own. “Yeah, my girl heard from a couple of her friends that he’s good with his hips.”

With a quirked brow, Vernon licks his teeth. “You sure that it’s not your girlfriend’s experience we’re talking about here?”

Mingyu narrows his gaze. “Don’t play. Just ‘cause the one you’ve been eyeing suddenly captured Minghao’s attention doesn’t mean that you can jab me like that. Least I can commit.”

Puffing up his cheeks, he doesn’t even bother turning to look at Mingyu when he throws his sharp response. Nothing can avert his attention away from you, especially when you’re fixated on Minghao, your hand atop his as his own rests against your hips with your back pressed against his chest. Is this what you’re into? Some guy with blue hair, similar to the label on a Dasani water bottle or marginal Sonic the Hedgehog? 

“I don’t have commitment issues,” he counters through his gritted teeth. When did he clench his jaw so tightly, and why does he feel his fist balling up? You’re not his, after all, and yet he’s acting like you are. 

“Then what are you going to do about it?”

Vernon doesn’t even think. It’s out of character for him—what he often does is plan out his moves before making them. When it came to work or even what he wanted to meal prep for the rest of this week, Vernon always thought things through. Vacation? He’s already got an agenda. Dinner with friends? He’s got reservations at four different restaurants. Just pick one.

But you? You drive him absolutely insane. He can’t predict anything with you, and he doesn’t have a plan on what to do with you. 

Before you know it, he’s on the dance floor—an unfamiliar place for him because Vernon isn’t the type to bust a move even when he’s intoxicated but tonight, he’s a bit offbeat. Maybe he had too much of the whiskey, or maybe he caught some secondhand smoke from the guy taking a puff of a joint but nonetheless, he’s got his hand wrapped around your wrist and tugging you into him.

“What—”

“I don’t like you rubbing up against him.”

Mouth slightly agape, you step back from him. “Okay, and? You're not my boyfriend.”

He sucks in his cheeks irritably. He knew rejecting you would eventually bite him in the ass. “I just don’t like it.”

“You don’t get to tell me what you like and don’t like,” you retort, rolling your eyes before pushing your hair back. “Now if you would excuse me, I’m going back to Minghao.” But before you could get away, Vernon pulls you back. The impact of your cheek against his chest is a harsh one—but not… a bad one.

It… kind of turns you on? 

But you’re not gonna let him know that.

He exhales out a deep breath. “Okay, then fine. Be my girlfriend.”

You choke on your spit. 

“Wh-What?”

ok the end lets hope i finish this one and that it's a banger

[lillylvjy]

If I’m so special (why am I secret)

notes; hello hello! So the title has nothing to do with the actual fic I just really like the lyric! But you can correlate it if you want! This is long awaited, I have like two more fics for him in the works so! Enjoy!

warnings; hurt/comfort, angst, arguments, stupid old men, age gap, student x teacher relationship, forbidden love, sexual activities hinted at but in forms of rumors, Wilbur and reader being so down bad for each other it hurts, kissing, so much fluff at the end! If I missed anything please tell me!

edited;…. Yeah no!

wc; 1.8k

who; professor!Wilbur x gn!reader

He was ineffable.

A ball of sunshine that you could look at forever and not care if you went blind. A song that you could listen to over and over again and not go insane from it. A book you could read and find a way to connect everything to it.

He was… your every waking thought. And you knew what you were doing wasn’t right, you both knew. But you didn’t care, at least you didn’t. Wilbur was hesitant about it, you knew he wanted this but you also knew that he was going against everything he knew and you understood that but you weren’t going to let him sit there and let stupid rules decide what he gets to do with life.

The board had started to become suspicious of you two. How you would always stay later than wanted in his office. Sometimes come in at late times in the night to check up on him, yet to come out with him and get in his car. Coming in to the campus together. The longing stares and quick glances to each other whenever you were in the same room.

People became curious and other professors started watching. Closely. Too closely. And once they gathered enough information to use against you both, they told the school board. And the school board pulled you out of class just to bring you into a room with Wilbur and the head of the school board. After that annoyingly long interrogation of trying to get you and Wil to talk, maybe confess about something, Wil said:

“Sir, I would never do anything with my students. Yes I am friendly and kind to them, offering them other times they can come in, but nothing more. All of this, evidence, shows nothing more than me being a good professor. I am not sleeping with them, I do not involve myself with them at all besides them being my student. My job means more than anything else could.”

That’s what led you here. In his office at the school, far later than what after school hours pushed, fighting for the two of you.

If he wouldn’t, you would.

“Wil listen me, this isn’t fair! To me or to you. You can’t just give up on this that quickly.” You argued as you followed him around his office, wanting to get your point a crossed.

“Darling, you know we can’t. You are my student, and I am your teacher. You can’t have romantic relations, it’s just how it had to be-“

“Oh stop with that bullshit! It doesn’t have to be like that, if we just explain-“

“Explain? To who? The school board?! They aren’t gonna listen! They’ll look at us like we’re crazy, expel you from this school and fire me. I don’t care about me in this situation, I care about you. Don’t think I’m doing this for my own benefit.” Wil said, tone harsh and words that hurt a bit. You shook your head as you rubbed your hands up and down your face, rubbing the tears that perked in your eyes away.

“It’s worth a try! You can’t just let rules dictate and control what your life gets to be. They don’t control what you do and who you can be with! You aren’t doing anything bad-“

“In their eyes I am! They think I’m just fucking my student for my own pleasure and benefit! They don’t care about the whole story, they only care about the fact that I’m a teacher and you’re a student. Why are you trying to push this-“

“Because I love you!” You yelled out, turning back around to face him, letting the tears fall now. Your lip quivered as he looked at you with wide eyes at the sudden burst of emotion. “I love you and I actually have the fucking guts to fight for this! I don’t care what happens as long as I end up with you, that’s all that matters to me Wil. And if that’s not the case for you either then, tell me! Tell me everything you said in that meeting was true, and you meant every single bit of it. Just, tell me so I can stop looking like a fool and stop fighting for something only I want. Please….” Your voice slowly breaks as sobs start coming out and tears flow down your cheeks with ease, each one hot and leaving a stain on your face. You didn’t try to wipe them away, you let them fall, letting him see what he was doing to you. Not so he would change his mind and feel bad, no, because you knew he wanted this just as much as you, he was just fighting it. Every single bit of it.

Wilbur ran a hand over his face as he shook his head. He couldn’t deny it, both of you knew he couldn’t. He wanted you. He always has, ever since you stepped foot into his classroom. He remembers that day so clearly.

You were running late as you usually were, never being prepared enough to wake up at 8 in the morning just for his class. Your shoes were half tied and your overalls not done all the way over your yellow shirt. You rushed through the door right before he was going to close it, quietly apologizing for your late arrival as you rushed up the steps and found your seat in the back corner.

He didn’t say anything, he never did when you were late. But the first time, he couldn’t have said anything. You captivated him, in so many ways. Yes you may have looked ridiculous, but absolutely stunning nonetheless.

After that day, he looked at you different. Differently than a teacher should look at someone who’s just a student. You could say he fell first and you fell harder, but you both fell as hard as you could for each other, loving one another with every bone and being you had. So no, Wilbur wasn’t going to say he meant all that bullshit he said, he fucking hated himself for saying it anyways.

“No. I didn’t mean anything I said in that meeting. I want to fight for this, I want to fight for you so badly-“

“Then why don’t you, Wil?”

“Because I care about you! I care about you getting your degree, you becoming the person you deserve to be, and that can’t be with me. I’ve accepted that. I don’t care about me, I don’t care if I get fired and I have no where else to go. I just care what you get what you deserve, and what you deserve is to graduate and grow up into a wonderful adult and marry someone worth being with-“

“No Wil, please. I just want you, I don’t care about me either. I just want you. I’m only in college for my parents, I didn’t even want to go to college! You know this. I want to marry you and be with you and grow old with you! I don’t care what happens because stupid, cranky old men don’t like the thought of a teacher and a student being together. You haven’t done anything to me I haven’t agreed with, and I started this first, we both know I did. And I will push that as fair as I can so I get expelled and you can stay. I just want to be with you.” You said as Wil slowly came up to you, tears slowly flowing down your face still. Placing his hand on the back of your head gently, Wilbur pulled you into his chest with your head resting just below his chin, and wrapped his arms around your neck. Your own wrapped around his waist and your grip on him was tight enough to Jill someone if wanted, yet Wil showed no sign of discomfort.

He kissed your head as he rested his head on your own. “I want you. I need you darling. I’m just scared, I’ve never felt like this for someone before, let alone someone that’s my student. I don’t care about what happens either, I’m just.. I’m tired of fighting for things I want. And I’m anxious what will happen after things get out and I do get fired I guess. You may have started this but I indulged in it, so we both have the blame. You don’t have to push anything, if you can’t stay then I can’t. I love you more than anything and if they can’t handle that then screw them.” Wilbur lifted his head from yours as you looked up at him with a soft smile, tears slowly stopping leaving your eyes red and puffy.

“You think too much sometimes.” Was the first thing that came out of your mouth, throat hoarse and in need of a clearing as you spoke.

Wil laughed and nodded at the statement, not arguing about that statement at all. Slowly bringing his face down to yours, he softly kissed the outer corners of your eyes, somehow easing the puffiness and soreness from your previous appearance. Pulling back, he takes your chin in his hand and pulls your face up to his a bit more, placing a soft kiss onto your chapped lips with a soft smile.

Pulling back, he giggled lightly a your wide grin and practical heart shaped eyes as you looked at him, his eyes reciprocating them. “Let’s get out of here yeah? We’ll talk about what to do later, for now we can just go to mine and order take out while we watch shitty indie movies, like always.”

“Can we actually watch Disney movies tonight? I have a few in mind…” you asked as you let go of the tall man in front of you. He walked over to his desk, grabbing his bag and coat, slinging them over his arm and back as he went back over to you and grabbed your hand in his. Exiting his office, he shut the lights off and locked the door as he dragged you to his car, knowing you didn’t have your own.

“Anything you want darling, whatever makes you happy I’m absolutely fine with.” He said with a smile as you finally stepped out of that suffocating school and into the open air of the parking lot.

“Hmm that and I’m changing into your clothes once we’re there, need to feel engulfed by you.”

“I’m right here!”

“Yeah but, it’s like extra happiness! More of you!”

“You just like stealing my clothes.”

“Hmm yeah pretty much…” Wilbur scoffed as he wrapped his arm around your shoulder, pulling you against him, finally not caring if anyone saw you two. He knew in the end it’d be ok, because he has you.

taglist; @mysticalsoot @phxntomsdusk @ivvees-blog (if anyone wants to be added feel free to send an ask or dm!)

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Bargain 2

Sequel to THIS

Warnings: financial stress and abuse, coercion, and some possible unmentioned triggers.

Character: Nick Fowler

Summary: Nick comes to reap his end of the deal.

As always, I appreciate all kinds of feedback. A like and reblog means so much to me! <3

Your mother thanks Constance for her tea. The nurse smiles and gives a soft ‘you’re welcome’ before offering anything else she may need. Your mother shakes her head and groans, lifting the steaming cup as hovers her hand over her hip, a gesture of her persistent pain.

She looks drawn. She doesn’t really have many good days. That day, she did her best. When you told her company was coming, she let you put on her makeup and chose favourite dress. Even though you told her she didn’t need to do all that. But you do.

You look down at yourself. A simple cobalt dress with short bishop sleeves. You did your best as well. That’s what you promised.

The doorbell rings. Constance comes out from the next room, “should I get that?” You nod, frozen in the silence. You wait and listen in dread. 

Nick enters but you don’t glance over. You see his shadow but refuse to see him. You fight to keep your cool. You not break and holler at him to leave. This isn’t about you.

“Ah, sorry, I’m late,” he comes to you and kisses your cheek, his hand on the small of your back before he steps away. He nears your mother, “you must be Angela.”

“It’s a pleasure,” your mother offers her hand. He takes it and bends to kiss her cheek as well, “oh, you are so polite,” she preens, “I’m sorry, I wish I could get up.”

“No, not at all,” he assures, “I trust your daughter explained that I have everything planned. I reserved a private walk down the greenhouse for us, I heard you're a fan of roses, then there’s a nice teahouse nearby. They do a great royal lunch.”

“That all sounds wonderful. I will try to keep my energy up.”

“Of course, Angela. If you feel like we need to go at any time,” he offers, “I’m just happy to finally get to meet you.”

“Me too. My daughter… she never keeps secrets. To be fair, this was the last secret I thought she’d ever keep. She’s not the sort for relationships.”

“Yes, I know. I did have to work at her,” he retreats to stand with you, “it was worth it.”

“Yeah, sorry, mom,” you force out through your tight throat.

Nick takes your hand, his palm rough against yours. 

“How rude of me, not to mention how beautiful you look, I love that colour on you, Angela,” he praises.

“Me, look at my daughter,” she swoons.

“Trust me, I can’t stop,” Nick turns to you, tugging you close. He presses his lips to your cheek again, “how lucky I am to get to do so for the rest of our lives.”

“Aw, so sweet,” your mother remarks, “I hope you don’t mind if I finish my tea first. I need the caffeine, my medications really tire me out.”

“Take your time, I’ll go get the car ready,” he affirms. He leans into you, lowering his voice as his lips tickle your temple, “I see you’re taking good care of her, sweetheart.”

You stiffen and nod, holding your smile. Your mother doesn’t notice the tension as she dabs a dribble of tea on her lip. She looks at the tissue dramatically. “Oh, dear, you’ll have to help me with my lipstick again.”

“Yes, mom,” you murmur.

“I’ll take good care of you,” Nick whispers sultrily against your ear, “as long as you do the same.”

He pulls back and pinches your chin between his thumb and knuckle. He makes you face him and you peer into his deep blue irises. He kisses you softly. Your mother aws from across the room.

“Now, let me just go get everything ready,” he squeezes your hand and slowly draws away, “this is going to be a great day, right, ladies?”

You nod and your mother sings her elation. Nick leaves and you stare after him. Your cheek twitches where he kissed it.

“He’s so nice, sweetheart,” your mother says airily, “I’m so happy you found someone like him. And his eyes, so gorgeous.”

“Mhmm,” you hum, and swallow tightly, “I’m so… lucky.”

[astoryisaloveaffair]

Fix You - Chapter 15 - High and Dry

*gif by @pedrohub

Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morales x Fem!Reader

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Read on A03

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Chapter Summary: 🤷‍♀️

Word Count: 4K

Rating: Explicit!! 18+!

Chapter Warnings: Cussing, violence, drugs, sex fantasies. I will not be warning anything else due to spoiling the story. We are all grown. You can stop reading when you want to.

A/N: Thank you all for being so patient! I hope this doesn’t disappoint! It is a bit shorter than my chapters in this fic usually are but ending it where I did felt right, and I don’t want to beat you over the head with F E E L I N G S. Please keep in mind for this chapter that I am continuing based off the exact themes from Triple Frontier. If you find some things in Triple Frontier offensive, I probably wouldn’t continue reading. This has been the arc I have been working towards for almost two years, and I'm not going to waver. Just stick with me like you have been. It’ll be worth it.

* If a character is speaking in Spanish, I will put “[ ]” around the dialogue. I speak pretty decent Spanish but not good enough for this 🫠

Suggested Songs: “High and Dry” by Radiohead, “Breathe Me” by Sia, “Demons” by Guster, “Cry” by Cigarettes After Sex, “Cold Little Heart” by Michael Kiwanuka

For a few seconds you can’t even figure out what you’re looking at. Or maybe you can, but your brain doesn’t want to process it, the black of the night and the black of the gun meld together so there isn’t a clear outline.

It’s the shiny glint off the gun barrel under the streetlight that makes it real, and then you startle again when a male voice calls to you, muffled through the door.

“Get out of the car!!

You blink, your hand on your chest slowly inching towards your phone that you stashed into your bra in order to not carry a purse at the fair.

“Ah ah ah. No moving except open the door or I will blow your fucking brains out. You be good, I won’t hurt you. Get out.”

Your thoughts race and it feels like you’re silent for almost five whole minutes but you know it’s only seconds, because your hand reaches for the door.

You’re quick enough to figure out that if you try to put the key back in the ignition, he will shoot you before you can leave. If you pull out your phone, he will shoot you before you can place a call. If you try to hide, he could break the window in and grab you and it will make him pissed off.

Your only option here is to fight. You have no idea what this man’s intentions are and you are not going to ignore any chance you may have. Maybe if you hit him and ran—-

You swallow and open the door.

Immediately a gloved hand shoots in and grabs you by your hair, yanking you out of your seat and stumbling to your feet. There’s no respite once you catch your balance, as the man’s other hand pushes you hard in the chest back against the hard shell of your car and covers your mouth with the most foul smelling gloved hand you’d ever smelt.

It’s then that you notice, before you can even try to fight and make a break for it, that there isn’t just one man. It’s four. And all are dressed in black with masks on, completely encircling you. One presses a gun right up under your raised jaw, the other two aim at you from a distance.

There’s no way you can run. You can’t fight off four men, it would be suicide. But you’re not sure what other alternative you have. They might kill you anyways. Or they might let you go…after getting what they want. What they want could be worse. Your brain shuts down in panic, your eyes watering because your body will not allow you to close your eyes out of adrenaline or fear.

Then he speaks to you again.

“Where is the money”. You simply continue to stare, confused.

The man leans in closer, where his nose would be under the mask almost touching your own. It does nothing to dull how rank his breath and B.O. is.

“I’m going to let you talk, you be quiet and do not scream or I shoot you. Yes?”

You nod erratically, and he takes the rancid glove off your mouth.

For a moment you do consider screaming. But it wouldn't matter. By the time someone would even make it all the way across the parking lot to help you’d already be dead.

He asks again. “Where is the money?”

“What money?” You scrunch up your brow and you can hear your voice wavering. They know how scared you are. The gun against your neck pushes deeper, and you can feel the metal forming a bruise with how oppressive it is. “I–I don’t know what you—I have my credit card! You can take it, please have it!” Your right hand gropes its way into the open door of your car like you could magically summon the wallet to your hand.

“No. The money. The money they stole. Where is it?! They’re your sweethearts, yes? They share the money with you, and killed many of us. We came for the money.”

Your heart drops into your stomach as the night’s events flash before you at hyperspeed.

“How he went on a STUPID fucking mission with these idiots to burglarize a fucking drug lord completely off paper?...

Fuck. Fuck. But why would they come for you?

“I—I don’t know where it is. I, I understand now. I just learned this, I know what you’re talking about but I don’t have it, I don’t know where it is, they didn’t tell me anything about this, I swear—”

Your head almost recoils back with the force of his gloved hand, the large palm connecting to your cheek, leaving it stinging and your nose feeling like someone ripped it open. Your eyes water once more as you struggle not to start crying. Stay strong. You have to stay strong. Do not cry.

The man who spoke to you starts pulling you away from your car and into the dark, and despite it being an idea you’d already talked yourself out of, your instinct is to resist. “I told you, I don’t know where it is! I don’t! No–I’m not going anywhere! I don’t care how much you hit me–”

One of them turns to the other, rapidly speaking in Spanish that, thank god, you know just enough to interpret.

[“We should just kill this whore, then kill the big one’s other woman and take the baby. They can always get a new whore. They will come for the baby.”]

And suddenly it’s like your brain is the most clear it’s every been. “No! No, I’ll go! Take me, they’ll come for me, I promise. They will. And—and I’m easier to transport than a baby. You’d have to take care of it right?? Until they come?? That would be a lot of work! I’m—-I won’t fight I swear! Please just take me I promise you’ll get the money. Okay?”

The men look at each other, sending some secret silent message you can’t interpret. You look at the one standing in front of you. You can barely even see his eyes in the dark.

“Please. They’ll come.”

And then you don’t remember anything else.

It took everything he had in him not to turn and look at you, to shoot up off the couch and peer out that window to watch you leave, to rip the door open and run to you, apologizing for all of it. But he didn’t.

Instead, he sat there with his head in his hands, eyes screwed shut to keep the threatening tears from spilling out. Eventually, time and space faded out, he felt nothing but everything. It felt like he had been sitting on that couch forever and also for just one second. He felt dead inside. When he finally got up and trudged down the hall to bed, it was three in the morning.

He wakes to Gabi crying. “Fuck.” He grunts, as he rolls over to glare at his phone that didn’t go off. Except it did go off. He had slept through it, and it was almost 11am. His head is killing him, and he presses his lower palms into his eyes to try and alleviate the pain. It felt like he had a hangover, but he hadn’t had a drink or used. An emotional hangover.

Frankie hauls himself out of bed and stumbles to Gabi’s room, she is absolutely beside herself calling for him and rattling the railing on her crib. He can tell her diaper is full and she hasn’t had breakfast and now he feels like extra shit because of that.

“God, baby, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry honey…” he scoops her up and pulls her to his chest, cooing and lightly bouncing her to soothe the cries. “Daddy didn’t feel good, I don’t know what happened, I’m so sorry. Are you ok?” She sniffs and nods, wiping away a snot bubble. “Ok so I know you’re starving but you would probably also feel more comfortable after a bath. Does that sound good? Which would you like first?”

Gabi sniffles again. “um…baff.”

Frankie nods and carries her to the bathroom, immediately taking off her soiled clothes and starting to run the bath. While they wait, he softly brushes her hair, using his fingers to gently separate the cute little mats she sometimes gets in her curls.

He bathed her in silence, and he knows Gabi knows something is wrong, as she usually likes to play with her sea animal toys when she is in the bath. Today she is simply swirling the bubbly water with her finger.

He doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know what she understood and what she didn’t. When he broke up with Lex she was too young to realize or know any better but now…now she was aware. And she had loved you…

So did he. His chest seizes in a searing pain as he thinks of you, the way your face looked when he said what he said. He hadn’t meant any of it.

It was a new level of heartbreak, because he had known better not to cater to his impulsive stubbornness, the insults and hateful comments that spill out of his mouth when he gets caught, when he feels backed into a corner. He knew better and he couldn't stop himself, his defensive and selfishness overwhelming him. And then you asked him about the farmers he shot. And it hit him.

He was a bad person. There was no denying it. He’d wanted to keep that side of himself away from you, he’d change the topic or just blatantly lie, but he liked the man he was with you, he wanted to prolong the feeling as long as he could before he messed it up. And he messed it up.

It suddenly didn’t matter to him in that moment that you could possibly forgive him. You SHOULDN'T forgive him. His past, his life, his actual shitty personality…you deserved more. You were so young, you could find someone new easily who didn’t have all his problems. So he pushed you away.

And you were fun to fuck, I’ll admit that. Let me do fucking anything…

He whips around and all but flings the toilet seat cover off the entire toilet and promptly vomits.

He is a horrible person…but he knew, deep down, that you would have forgiven him, that you would have stayed. And as the world fell apart and it all came crashing down around him, he knew you shouldn’t. But it still pissed him off that you listened to him, even when he knew this was right. He could not deny he selfishly still also wanted you to come back, to refuse to leave and beg and plead and tell him how much you love him. Everything is so complicated.

He pulls his head up and rests it in the crook of his arm along the rim of the tub. He feels a light poking and looks up to see Gabi.

“Daddy we done?”

He blinks, looking down like he had forgotten where he was and what he was doing. He reached for the loofah to rinse it from soap later. The water was getting cold.

Jesus fucking Christ.

He says nothing and nods, wrapping her up in a blanket and putting on her favorite mermaid scale leggings and a little Fleetwood Mac shirt you’d gotten her so she could match with him.

After settling Gabi with her food, he trudges into the living room, collapsing on the couch and opening his phone.

It barely rings before it’s picked up.

“Hey, Fish…was just ‘bout to text you. You ok?”

“No.”

Will began to speak, but Frankie cut him off. “Look I need you to watch Gabi for a couple days. I’m…off my dad game. Can I bring her over?”

“Yea…sure.”

Frankie could hear the hesitation in Will’s voice.

“I’m not gonna use.”

“I didn’t say you would.”

“Right. Be there in a bit.”

He told them mostly everything. If there was one thing he learned from you, it was that talking about it did make him feel better.

They said nothing at first but listened, offering words of support, because there was nothing to say. Your reaction was completely justified, and you were rightfully upset about being lied to. So was Maidali.

“Yea she won’t talk to me right now either.” Will sighs, and Frankie feels a twang of guilt that he had spent the entire time talking about himself.

His sad eyes make contact with Will’s. “I’m sorry.”

“It is what it is. Hopefully she can get over it. Flower too.”

“She won’t.” They could see this was a struggle for Frankie just from the muscles clenching in his jaw. “I made her.”

“What do you mean?”

“I made her break up with me. I—-said some really horrible shit. Shit I didn’t mean. Well, maybe I did at first cause I was mad but also…she doesn’t deserve this.”

“Deserve what?” Said Benny.

“Me, this, everything!” He throws his arms up gesturing to himself and around him before they thump back down on the couch cushions. “I wish I did deserve her but I don’t, and she has so much life ahead of her! I don’t want to tie her down to an old, fucked up, lying murderer, ok.”

“So…you White Fanged her?”

“….I don’t fucking know what that means, Benny.”

“Like, you loved her and knew she needed to be out there in the wild, it’s where she belongs, so you threw stones and shit at her to make her hate you and leave?”

Frankie blinks. “…yea.”

“But you still love her? You still want her, yea?”!

“Yes, but—“

“Well text her! Call her! Do something!”

Frankie hangs his head. “I already did. Cause I’m fucking weak. But it didn’t deliver. She blocked me. It’s what I deserve. It’s over.”

Before either of them could speak he stood up, indicating the discussion was over.

“Listen, just…watch Gabi for a couple days for me so I can feel like fucking shit and get over it and not have to listen to Lex’s fucking nagging if I ask her to take Gabi early.”

Will and Benny nod, each giving him a long hug before he said goodbye to Gabi and trudged right out the door.

And immediately texted his dealer.

He knew he shouldn’t. This wasn’t like his argument with you. He knew damn well he shouldn’t do this, that it would ruin his life probably. The difference is he just didn’t give a fuck. He didn’t deserve sobriety. He didn’t deserve good things. And he was tired of feeling the excruciating pain of heartbreak and abandonment that he had never wanted to feel again. The sharp twisting and turning in his chest coupled with nausea and dread. He felt you in every fucking heartbeat. He felt like he was dying.

He didn’t want to feel it this time.

He sighs, finished with chopping the chunky white powdered clumps up with his credit card, grabs a dollar bill from a his wallet, rolls it up, puts one end to the line of cocaine and the other his nostril, looks up—

And sees pictures of him and Gabi. At the zoo, washing his truck together with hose water splashing everywhere. A photo you took of Frankie and Gabi sleeping spooned together on the couch.

All new memories. All memories he got within the past 6 months. Memories he never would have gotten if he was still using.

No. He did still deserve that. Despite everything, he deserved to have Gabi in his life, and deserved to have a life sober. It was fucking poison, not just for his body but his soul and his life and his sense of self and even if it hurt, even if…

Even if you never come back to him. Because you told him he needs to fix himself for himself.

What you meant to him…what he had with you before he fucked it up, it meant everything to him. It wasn’t right to just get completely blitzed out to get through the pain. He needed to feel the pain. You deserved that, at least.

Before he can think about it he scoops the powder into his palm and runs to the toilet, throws the powder and the rest of the dime bag in, and flushes. Then he heads straight to bed.

He stayed in bed for days. Yea, he got up to eat, use the bathroom, answer “are you alive” texts, eat some crap junk food. But immediately after he would collapse back into bed.

He jacked off thinking of you constantly and hated himself for it. Your smile, the way you whimper his name as you came on his cock, he’d scroll through your secret nasty WhatsApp chat blowing his load to everything you’d texted to him, the voice notes you’d send him when he was at work of you masterbating and thinking of him…

That last time he’d fucked you when you’d been sleepy on the couch only in one of his old giant tshirts, how he’d pulled your panties to the side to look at you, so perfect and flushed. He’d placed a pretty kiss against your pussy and crawled over you, pulling his boxers down and pushed himself into you, groaning with a smile as your eyes fluttered open with a gasp. He’d slowly rocked into you as you whimpered in his ear, “Frankie Frankie Frankie Frankie I love you I love you I love you…” He had kissed you as you came because he loved hearing your moans vibrate against his lips.

That one time you joked about getting pregnant while he was fucking you and he had cum so fast he didn’t even know what happened.

Your pretty eyes looking up at him as you sucked him off, taking him deep and letting him cum where he wanted.

Your laughter.

Your smell. The sheets on your side of the bed still smelled like you, and after he orgasmed to you, he’d fall asleep clutching the pillow you used, burrowing his head into it as far as he could to remember your smell, pretending it was really you. Your smell was fading. It scared him.

He started not caring about meals when he learned you'd apparently blocked all his friends, even Benny.

It’s really over.

He slept for days. Because at least when he was asleep, he was either with you, or not conscious to realize he wasn’t.

You wake up to your entire body vibrating and your head searing with pain. The ground is cold, hard, and smells weird and your skin sticks to its texture. You feel liquid dripping slowly from your scalp and you try to wipe your brow but you can’t, and as you emerge from the foggyness in your head, you discover you have your hands bound and arms pulled behind your back. Your legs were bound too, all the way up to the knee and wow, obviously that’s why your shoulders and neck hurt so much.

You’re further disoriented as whatever transport you are in swerves in a tilt to the right and you slide across the floor and into a pile of boxes against the wall. A corner hits you in the back and you almost gasp out all your air from the force but you had a nasty rag stuffed in your mouth.

“Eh!” A sharp voice from further up in the vehicle calls. “You stop moving or I throw you out the plane!”

The plane. The rumbling was from you being in the fucking air, the texture sticking to your body was the metal framework of the cabin, and you didn’t know where the fuck you were going. You try to slow your breathing so you don’t hyperventilate and panic.

Surely the government watches all the planes flying around, right? They can’t just fly a plane in the airspace without them noticing? Right?!

But the plan is not stopped, not challenged, not asked to land.

You look over the top of the boxes and notice there’s a window, and you struggle to push yourself up against the cartons with your bound hands to stand, and continuing to use those boxes, you shimmy on bound legs to look out the tiny window.

You were flying over the ocean.

No one will be able to find you.

It’s finally too much. So you cry.

[aestheticpearl]

— 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬

[𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫] bradley bradshaw

we broke up

you stare at the text from bradley for a solid minute before realizing that you have to respond.

oh no i’m so sorry :(

you are anything but sorry, his ex girlfriend was a complete bitch and didn’t even try to hide it. you’re still very unsure of what he saw in her.

can you come over?

of course, On my way!

ew auto correct omw*

you quickly get out of bed and scrabble to grab your sweatshirt and keys before practically tumbling out the door to get to your car. you definitely went over the speed limit considering you got there in twelve minutes and it’s a twenty minute drive.

you unlock the door with the key he gave you and open it to find him sitting on the stairs waiting for you. his eyes are red and puffy, he’s clearly been crying over this.

“hey” you join him on the stairs and wrap an arm around him. “what happened?”

“she cheated”

“bitch, you were too good for her anyway”

“if i was too good, why did she still cheat?” he sniffles. you hate seeing him so upset like this, especially over someone who isn’t worth it.

“cause she’s insecure, she wanted to cheat cause she was scared you’d realize how much better than her you are and then you’d leave her”

bradley stays silent and nods before leaning into you.

“hey i know what’ll make you feel better” he looks up at you questionably. “the beach, but more importantly the ride to the beach.” you stand and hold out your hand to help him up.

“come on rooster, let’s clear your head”

he looks at you then your hand and then you again before responding.

“i hate when you call me that” he says taking your hand. you practically squeal and pull him outside to your car.

drives like these are the only reason you own a convertible. nothing beats the san diego breeze late at night, it’s warm but not ridiculously hot and it feels so nice to get fresh air. you glance over at bradley who seems to enjoy feeling the wind blowing through his hair.

“feeling better yet?”

“a little” you lean over and nudge him lightly. “hey what was the for?”

“she didn’t deserve you, i’m sorry she cheated” he face softens

“thanks—”

“she was also a huge bitch and i’m glad she’s gone, hope nothing bad happens to that expensive car of hers”

“no need to worry cause nothing will happen, right?”

“can’t make any promises big boy”

bradley shakes his head and you pull into the empty beach parking lot.

“what did you even see in her?” you finally ask.

“believe it or not in the beginning she wasn’t a huge bitch. she actually reminded me a lot of you, before the bitch part”

you’re stunned with how easily he just admitted to liking you.

“you confessing bradley?” you ask was a shit eating grin.

“and if i am?”

you think for a moment.

“if you are confessing, i will let you kiss me” you say getting out of the car. “if you can catch me before i reach the water”

“oh you’re on—” you sprint off before he can finish. “no fair!” he shouts after you.

“come on rooster! you’re a naval aviator, i need a head start!”

the wind carries the scent of the salt water in the air which would be comforting if your weren’t being chased by bradley.

the sand is soft and hard to run in, but as you grow closer to the shoreline it becomes easier. that is until bradley grabs your waist and finally catches you.

“i got you now you have to give me a kiss” he laughs as you wiggle in his strong grip and he turns you to face him. “play fair and pay up or you’re going in the water”

you turn your face away from him playfully.

“suit yourself” he says before picking you up easily and carrying you into the water.

“ah! bradley okay okay! my pants are getting wet and not in the good way!” he ignores your pleads as he falls back into the water, drenching you both.

you can’t help but laugh when you break through the surface.

“what happened to kicked puppy bradley i found on the stairs huh?”

“he realized that you liked him” you smile and kiss him. “if getting cheated on means you finally get with your best friend that you’ve been pining over for years, maybe i should’ve gotten cheated on sooner”

you laugh and shake your head before pulling in to kiss him again.

please reblog to show support ✧·˚ ༘ * ༄

i am so sorry the midnights series is taking so long so here is something to hold you over

.love always <3 pearl

.masterlist

[forlornkiller]

I think this ending was so good for this show because it keeps everybody in a state of motion. We’re able to almost picture or envision what the future is going to be like for them because some cycles are destined to repeat but each character has such different destinies you know? this show is so amazing every scene has so much to unpack…. im only gonna choose a couple moments but I hope they resonate

comparing Kendall and roman……. I think we all knew that roman was abused by Kendall growing up but in previous contexts, it seemed like he had changed…. at least yelling at Logan for his direct abuse but to see Kendall do that to Rome was fucking heartbreaking man . tears in my fucking eyes like he does not. deserve this. nobody fucking deserves this and fuck Logan Roy and every fucking abuser that willingly and even gleefully chooses fucking abuse. kendall seemed resigned to his fate to abuse his brother but it’s just not true man. maybe there was more sorrow than glee in his abuse but only maybe. and either way it’s not fucking right. The acceptance of their nothingness is different yet the same…… so many things are different but the same do u know what I mean ?

Kendall, with protection, but never able to do anything again is a fate i can accept for him. It was really interesting to see how their relationships with other people were again and may I just say. I think it’s quite incredibly clear what Kendall and Stewy had and currently flirt with…… i love that but I hate that for them. As delulu it might be for Stewy to think he can save Kendall, he totally thinks that and who knows . maybe some cool fuck shit happens and Kendall’s able to keep one relationship in his life he cares about. but I guess we won’t see .

Oof going back to Roman’s dig about Rava and her kids…….. i think his relationship with them is so fucked and there isn’t enough time for repentance. He spent so long holding onto a dream that was never real and not even worth having in the end, and knowing that so much of his life was around this one thing. seven years old to now….. maybe some intense psychotherapy and retrospection for years is what he needs. it’s probably the only thing he’s gonna get

,, and in this sense I almost wonder if Connor and Kendall are closer than ever as eldest boys. Connor was never offered the dream, and he never became anything. Kendall is what happens when you offer it and it disappears, making u realize it was never really there in the first place. Might’ve been something, but definitely isn’t now. I also think reducing Connor to nothing is not a fair characterization but he’s not really something either.

Shiv……… i wish there was a way free for her. I’m not the greatest at imagining shiv futures but I somehow see purgatory yet nothing at all. She got the deal, she didn’t get CEO and her reputation got a bit fucked but she’s still married to the CEO. whose baby she’s pregnant with. And who she doesn’t like, i don’t think. Because hurting her has been the way she understands love, i think she’s more into Tom than ever and i think she needs him. He holds a lot of power but in the end he offers love one way, she doesn’t respond that way and they stay together but apart. I can’t tell anymore if it’s real or fake. I think Shiv believes what she said, that once you say all the worst shit to each other you can still be together but part of that is WANTING to be together. If you say all the worst shit and at the end don’t know if you want to come back, then I think you shouldn’t get back together. They just keep making bad decisions. Sometimes relationships are best when both people realize how close they are is not how close they actually want to be or should be. Tom offering his hand in the car…….. she called him a phony and I think I agree. There might’ve been love there.. an opportunity to win love but Shiv doesn’t fight for those things, she takes them as givens. A lot of the tragedy in succession is about timing. Bad things happening right when things were getting good, maybe. The consequences of their actions meet later actions and become perfectly destructive. Okay i got distracted back to shiv and Tom i can’t tell who is trapping who with this baby. I am incredibly sad for this future child and wish that Tom got out now, fuck waystar royco and take his piece of shit and go!!!! but they’re in too deep now.

Switching to tomgreg 🤩 sucking the dick of white supremacy, but maybe making changes internally about how things are done. Tom is better than Logan on most levels I think, and great at his fucking job. Will he be able to counter Logan’s legacy with his own consider his part in advancing Logan’s? Wash his hands free from sins?? i don’t really think so but I think he might want to…….. i always have hope like a dumbass hehe but yea I have been wanting Tom and Gerri team up since the beginning on season 4 and while it’s sad to not see that in action, im glad it’s a definite future. I think she’ll see that Tom can actually be competent. Okay sandwiching Tom and Gerri with Tom and Greg, that sticker shit was fucking cute and I totally thought they were gonna kiss before that. Their fight was so fucking funny LOL i did genuinely enjoy watching that. Fed my tomgreg soul for sure 😌

In regards to mattson (and then I’m going back to Gerri and then I’m gonna SLEEP!!) i think what he wanted with his numbers happened, them getting lost in the deal dazzle? It went through and now everybody’s fucking rich. The thing is idk all the legal business stuff so is this gonna fuck everybody over in a couple weeks to months? No clue but for now Mattson’s kinda on top of the world. I really don’t like him tho hehe i hope he gets smashed to death by a pile of his own blood bricks. I wonder if Tom will actually be his front man, or try to kill him at some point too? The urge to serve is so strong in him…… but do I firmly believe that with a healthy kinky relationship with somebody PERHAPS GREG. he would be able to fulfill that and also rule the world? Absolutely man it’s just abt balance 😌 my belief that the acceptance of bdsm would fix so many things in our society & in succession is unshakable okay don’t question me. ANYWAYS

Gerri….. a queen as always. Roman pining from afar is so sad so tragic reminding himself of her with every drink he drinks and thought he thinks. One of THE biggest regrets and him saying that he’s nothing, that all the sibs are nothing? I think in this moment it’s true. I can feel how that is truth for him. With Gerri’s brief flashes of emotion during the funeral ….. i have hope. Succession aside, i really believe have faith in love and its power to save lives & transcend death. I think what they had bw them was real, and with the scripts as well I don’t think that connection was faked. What makes my heart hurt is that in the past it seemed like Gerri was the only one in the room who cared if he was hurt. She can’t necessarily protect him but she sees him. He doesn’t have that, the three sibs don’t have anybody that really loves & knows them enough to be able to deal with this trauma but I don’t think hope is totally gone. I’m an optimist in the end

God this is fucking long I’m a wordy person but overall? GOD i love this show!!! I really think they ended it at a great spot in this way where things keep going. Nobody’s story ever really ends, it feels like it does and to the person living their story it might but being able to watch their lives? You realize that it doesn’t end. I think Jesse’s commentary on the fear behind ending Succession here is super valid though, because there is a message here that is ultimately anti capitalist. If we were able to really see, at length the way we’ve seen the first cycles, how their cycles continue I think it would really wake a lot of people up to how things operate in this society. The longer this nation goes on, the longer the abuse this nation was founded from goes on. I’m going to end here but wow this show has given me so much to think about when it comes to love, abuse, capitalism, society & American culture as a whole like goddamn. What a show man what a show

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Burn Bright White - Chapter Three.

Oh, okay then. Have another update. Big thanks to my beautiful Diana and Lindsey for offering their commentary. I do this for you both!

Previous Chapters - One Two

Tag list - In the comments. DM to be added/removed

Words - 2,844

Warnings - 18+ content, minors DNI! Also, while I have tried to remain as true to how Niklas is in reality as I can, I have to have a little creative freedom of my own with him in this. If you don’t like it, simply scroll on by. Bitching isn’t tolerated here. At all. Remember, it’s fiction, not a documentary ;) It’s also worth mentioning that while Taissa has qualities of being quite charming at times, she is not, by any means, a good person.

“Your boyfriend called. He wants another eighth. I’m all out until we collect, have you got anything?” 

Taissa and her brother worked under the same enterprise, her heading things in Helsinki usually, and him in Tampere. She travelled between the cities fairly frequently, having a residence in both. When she wasn’t staying in one, the other was rented out through Airbnb.  

Never let it be said she wasn’t enterprising. Both legitimately and criminally.  

If anything, Miika more worked for her than the other way around, his sister supplying him as well as a few other family members dotted around Finland. If there was a kingpin within the Aho family, it was definitely her. 

“I can feel that frown, you know.” 

Of course, and it was well-earned, referring to the man who she’d told him had indeed come onto her as her boyfriend. Her brother couldn’t help himself, though. He enjoyed getting a rise out of her. “I bet he’s wondering where you’ve vanished to, since I’ve been dropping his deals round for the last two weeks.”  

Well, she had said work harder, and she supposed he had been at the rate he’d been purchasing cocaine and speed from them. The truth was, Niklas was barely denting them with his usual regularity; he was only being persistent in his purchases because he wanted to see her.  

And fuck, how she wanted to see him. Game playing and teasing aside, it had taken all the resolve she could muster, every last drop of it, to have walked away from him outside of the club. She knew a big dick bulge when she felt it, craving ever since to be pinned beneath the weight of the man it was attached to and fucked within an inch of her sanity.  

Still, the payoff would be worth the wait. If only she knew, though, how heavily he desired her, from just one evening so briefly in her company.  

“I have a couple left, tell him yes,” she spoke, opening her car window wider and lighting a cigarette. “Don’t tell him it’s me dropping off, though.” 

Miika snorted softly, shaking his head. “What game are you playing with this man, sis? You do know what you’re getting yourself in for, don’t you? Guy’s a fucking whacko. I mean it.” Pausing, he lit a joint, inhaling deeply. “He’s worse than you.” 

Charming. “Fuck you.” 

“Thinking you’re hot shit because you’re a sociopath,” he teased, feeling his sister’s ire radiating, even over the telephone. “No, to be serious, he’s a bipolar schizophrenic. He isn’t your average run of the mill coke head.” 

No, he absolutely wasn’t. “I can handle him.” 

“It’s you fucking handling him that worries me,” her brother scoffed, Taissa rolling her eyes. 

“I know exactly what I’m doing,” she spoke firmly. 

Oh, the mistake he’d made in asking her to do him a favour, sending her straight into the firing line of a man he knew she’d take an interest in. A mentally volatile one at that. “Again, this is what worries me, Tai.” 

If there was one person she truly adored in this world, it was her brother. He was her best friend, too, one of three people she would genuinely move mountains for. Miika, his girlfriend Carla and her father were they. Others meant little to her, Taissa not being particularly gregarious beyond using people for what she could get out of them. It would be very fair to say her misanthropic streak ran deep.  

It was, after all, the hallmark of sociopathy.  

“I’ll be fine. I have some things to do, so tell him within three hours.” Her things to do consisted of getting her hair blow dried straight with a treatment, going shoe shopping and having a massage.  

With the shoe shopping, she spoiled herself with the pair of open toed, spiked heeled leopard print platforms she’d been eyeing for a while, and with the massage, she definitely imagined Niklas’s hands running in a firm, oily glide over her limbs instead of the man who actually worked all of her tension out. She left feeling a lot more relaxed, except in one specific place, having fantasised about the big, tattooed brute she was en route to throughout the duration, of course.  

Calming herself down proved tricky, since it had been a few weeks since she’d last had a man between her legs, Taissa knowing that if she was a slave to anything, it was her own rampant libido. She also knew that when she was ovulating, her desire went through the fucking roof, as she was right then. 

She had two courses of action. Plan A, mercilessly tease him some more, then go home and set about herself with a few of her favourite sex toys to satiate her need, or plan B. Fuck him, fuck him so well that he’d never cease to crave her, and then withdraw until he was virtually on his knees begging her to fuck him again.  

Both had their appeal, and no matter which she chose, she’d still remain in control. Also, a fun idea how to further play with him entered her head on the drive over, giggling to herself as she imagined the way he would react to a little game of hide and seek.  

Pulling up outside, she went about putting her plan into action, her casual flip flops exchanged for the high heels that would boost her diminutive height considerably. The thrill of it hummed through her as she left the car and entered the apartment block, smiling, hardly able to contain herself. This? This was going to be glorious... 

It was a good job that Niklas’s bathroom was right by the front door, because between the blare of music filtering through his apartment and the noise of the shower he was taking, he wouldn’t have heard the loud knocking upon his door.  

“Alright, fuck!” he yelled, the door being rapped with speedy knuckles once more as he secured a towel around his waist and headed out to let Miika in. Only it wasn’t the elder of the Aho offspring waiting on the other side.  

“Oh, look,” she purred, eyeing him up and down, her insides radiating in bright burn at the sight. “You’re all wet.” Ducking under his arm, she drifted into the apartment, Niklas experiencing the usual at seeing her, his heartbeat accelerating in an instant. She might have looked quite casual in the long, dark grey cotton dress she wore, but how it hugged every curve so very pleasingly.  

He could barely keep his mouth from broadening as he closed the door, wiping the grin from his face as he turned to her. “As you can see, I have no cash on me. Wait a second, it’s in my jeans.”  

“Before you get it,” she began, reaching to halt him, steering him back to face her, hormones going into overdrive at how very nearly naked he was. She didn’t like overly muscular guys at all. Give her a tall man with thickness and a bit of a tummy any day, and she would eat him alive. “Would you like your cocaine first?” 

He raised a questioning eyebrow. “I thought it was cash first with you?” 

Placing her keys and phone down on the hallway table, she backed away, resting her hands to her hips, cocking her head. “I know you’re good for it. You want your cocaine? Come find it. It’s... somewhere upon my person.”  

Little minx. Lifting his chin, he walked to her, eyes burning blue fire as his finger slid beneath the strap of her dress. “You realise this means a thorough examination?”  

She nodded. 

“That I will have to slowly take off all of your clothes to find it?”  

Her tongue flicked between her lips, and it set his insides ablaze. “I’m counting on it.”  

He couldn’t tell whether this was her about to give him the green light to fuck her, or more of the game she’d been playing since they’d first met, but fuck, if that wasn’t the goddamned thrill of it. Taking the other strap of her dress, he carefully lowered them, the uncovering of her body undertaken slowly, as if unwrapping a gift in order to savour the joy of revelation a little longer. 

He could feel his cock begin to harden as he lowered the dress further, her tits pushed together by a black bra he could have ripped from her with his teeth, had he not been enjoying the slow seduction quite as much as he was. A simple tug over her hips had the dress pooling at her ankles, Taissa stepping from it, biting the corner of her lip.  

How he held himself back from flattening her against the nearest wall, he didn’t know. Fuck, she was perfect.  

Seeing her, such alluring, feminine beauty, he wondered for a second what the fuck a woman so stunning saw in someone like him. He’d professed quite openly that he didn’t know what it was that women saw in him, despite his blunt confidence around them exuding very much to the contrary. The desire that danced through her eyes like a storm upon the sea knocked such thoughts from his head, though, the palpable weight of her want boring into him through such a beautiful gaze.  

His hand slid to her back, his heart crashing against his ribcage like a war drum, easily flicking the fastening of her bra undone between his thumb and forefinger, pulling it away to reveal a set of tits he wanted nothing more than to sink his teeth into. There was no cocaine to be found within, even though he’d almost forgotten that was what he was searching for to begin with.  

Standing there, welded to the spot by the weight of his gaze, she had to hold back from wrapping herself around him, feeling her insides beginning to throb and tingle almost aggressively with arousal. Her muscles corded, her breath catching in her throat at the sensation of his fingers slowly trailing down her body, over her sternum and abdomen, slipping into the small, black thong she wore. 

Grasping the bag of contraband between his fingers, he pulled it out, placing it on the table beside her phone. That’s where she should have simply stepped back, pulled her dress on and demanded her money, but fuck. She couldn’t.  

The bind he had her in was not one she could extract herself from, being that close to him, both barely dressed, his hand slowly delving back into her underwear. He leaned to her, tongue dragging a slow lick up the side of her neck, pressing a kiss much softer than she’d expected, his fingers roaming into the soft dew of her slit.  

Feeling how wet she was, his arm muscles tensed in appreciation, a shuddered breath fluttering against her neck, another kiss placed, followed by another. He paused only to grasp her thong, snapping the thin material with a tug, sending shockwaves through her. 

When his fingertips began to glide in a slow, soft stroke over her clit, her legs almost gave way, his other hand moving to splay at the small of her back, clasping her so she didn’t fall.  

“Mmhm,” he hummed, tongue flicking teasingly just below her ear. “I know exactly what to do with a woman’s body.” 

The need to exert dominance, return to driving the situation rather than playing passenger to her roaring yearning, she realised, wasn’t anywhere near as strong as her need for him. She’d have perhaps experienced some sort of dismay at that too, had she not been so blindingly turned on. 

Clutching his chest in a vain hope to steady herself brought no such bracing, only pulling her further into the fire. It was caustic, the heat of his damp skin, the way the soft, dark blonde hairs felt beneath her palms as it heaved with laboured breaths. Sometimes, she supposed, the alchemy between two bodies longing for the other was just too hazardous a mix to extract from, turning her head, their mouths finally meeting in a hungry clash.  

It was a carnivorous display of feral longing, Niklas grasping her waist and lifting her easily, her dainty form wrapping around him as he backed her against the wall, her hand reaching for the only thing that still divided them. The towel fell, her fingers curling around his cock, guiding it to where she streamed for him, slick and hot cut through by the kind of thickness that knocked the breath from her lungs as he filled her. Fuck... oh, fuck, he felt so good.  

There was no finesse to it, her insides assaulted by a mindless sexual battering, but god, if that wasn’t exactly what she needed; to simply be fucked...and fucked hard. Wailing against the onslaught of his mouth as they shared dirty, messy kisses, she was bowled over completely by the power of his fuck, given no choice but to submit to it. 

The sound of her helpless cries spurred him further, pounding her against the smooth, white painted wall, pulling his mouth from hers and grinning almost sinisterly. “Yeah, that’s what you get, making me wait for two weeks to be inside you.”  

Pulling her away, his hand met her ass in a series of hard, unyielding spanks, the noise echoing off the wall he then forcefully drove her back against, burying his mouth at the side of her neck, his hands clutched hard beneath her slender thighs. The feel of her heels digging into his ass as he railed her only spurred him further, made him mindless, the electric connection between them sparking bright. 

The lewd sound of him driving into her again and again filled the air, his moans deep, barbarous, Taissa’s grip around his shoulders slackening, her nails digging into the thick of his wide back and shredding his tattooed flesh. God, the man could fuck.  

It was beyond feral, an all-out display of carnage, her body banging against the wall as she gripped on around him tightly, more scratches added to his skin, the pain of it causing dark heat to mist through him. It drove him headlong into the abyss, tongue touring her throat, biting her, groaning like a beast. 

Mmm, yes. That was the very word she’d choose to describe him, could she even form coherent thought. 

The hot girth of his cock stretched her tender walls, the glide through the soaking mess of her sending heat roaring up her spine, the grind of his body against hers flushing glimmers to burst through her. It was nothing but frantically delivered sexual energy, fucked wildly, embers glowing as their bodies charged to the peak of it.  

Taissa topped first, her hips bucking wildly against him as the pleasure shimmered right to her marrow, her fluttering cunt pulling his own release from him so hard, he felt like he was about to pass out as he came deep within the viscid clench of her. Biting her neck, he growled it out as he fucked every wave into her, his orgasm burning bright white, light headed bliss ensnaring him.  

His entire body tingled, hers shaking uncontrollably, Niklas falling back and hitting the hallway floor with a thud, his legs unable to keep him upright after coming so hard, he barely remembered his own name. It had been a while, since he’d had sex that earth shattering, feeling like he was floating adrift of himself.  

He was so mentally shattered from it that he barely even noticed her heave herself up on shaky legs, pull her clothes back on at speed and exit his apartment without word, Taissa colliding with the hallway walls as she tried to walk in a straight line. She was more like a foal on brand new, juddering legs, reaching the elevator and hitting the button, her chest still heaving in aftermath of what could only be described as cataclysmic sex.  

Staggering in as soon as the doors opened with a smooth whoosh, she gripped the rail, but it did little to prevent her from collapsing, her entire body shaking like a live current had been passed through every muscle, every nerve.  

“Fucking hell.” she panted. She’d gauged that he’d give her nothing short of brutality, the kind of sexual bludgeoning that would leave her feeling nothing short of satisfied, but truly, what they’d shared had gone way beyond that. No man had ever literally fucked her so thoroughly that she could barely walk. If that was what he could do to her in the space of five minutes...  

While she hauled herself up off the elevator floor, Nikas remained on his back in the hallway, beyond dazed, still shuddering pleasantly. He’d get up eventually. Maybe when he didn’t feel like he’d just been hit by a tornado.  

Laughing to himself, he realised it then. He still didn’t even know the tornado’s name, but fuck, how he knew he’d happily let her whirl around him again, any time she wanted to.  

[quirkwizard]

When it comes to the rest of the one for all quirks, now that the series is over and they’ve been transferred so there probably isn’t any new information about them, are the other quirks ok for quirk marriages like black whip? Like float is kinda covered with air walk, and gearshift may be difficult depending on if you’d cover its original version or its boosted version. But smokescreen,fa jin,and danger sense are all fairly basic and not super complex or powerful

For when the quirk marriage ask box opens again, are the rest of the one for all quirks allowed? Like could I eventually request quirk marriages with smokescreen, danger sense, fa Jin, and maybe gearshift if you’d count its boosted form or original form

Are you taking requests now? it says you aren't but your answering some anyway

Yeah, it really should be covering them now, shouldn't I? I've been holding off on doing them for a myriad of reasons, but it's not fair to you guys to not cover them. So, with the ask box officially open again, I am opening up Quirk Marriages for "Float", "Smokescreen", "Danger Sense", "Fa Jin", and "Gearshift". Just know that I'll be a little finicky with "Float", as "Air Walk" is so similar to it and Quirk Marriages I've already covered with that may overlap too much to be worth doing, and "Gearshift", as the two versions of it may change how I decide to cover it. Guess we'll have to wait and see how this experiment turns out.

Mind control x telekinesis? It’s pretty OP but I like OP quirks especially with the quirk singularity theory

Here's a really good example of what you shouldn't send in. Because neither of these are Quirks from the canon.

Power Core (based on iron man). A powerful but dangerous quirk that provides the user with an energy reactor for a heart that constantly produces energy that constantly glows from the chest (like iron man).

Uses: This energy provides the user and others through touch with stamina and nourishment. This energy is a multipurpose power source that can recharge any energy required device by transforming into the type of required energy needed (e.g. when touching a smartphone, the quirk will provide electricity to recharge and power or for a car then the quirk will provide chemical energy. 

Weaknesses: This energy can’t be directly emitted as an attack; only transferred it to other objects/people. If the reactor generates too much energy without being used, the user's body will glow green, revealing their skeleton, which can make them ill. Severe physical harm in this state may lead to an explosion. This energy can’t augment anything only recharge. The user can’t absorb energy

Possible support items: Batteries to store excess energy for backup power. Devices that can be powered by the reactor for offensive use, like blasters. Armor to protect the body especially the chest. What do you think? I tried to balance out a dangerous quirk

When you open the ask box for custom quirks could you make a quirk that lets the users exist as a skeleton, like despite not having organs or muscles they can still move and function like a normal person would?

Can explain Yogan Kamakura quirk better. He is an OC. IG: guhitxguhit

Hello Great Astonishing wizard, I come from far-away lands to ask for you’r guidance. Here I may present my humble try in making a quirk. With thy knowledge of quirks I ask you to bless me and help me borrowth thy knowledge. If the Idea doesn’t work could you please help me how to refine it.

Bright Flare/Intense

Overall Insp: Fire Magic: Hellfire Incarnate (Mereoleona Black Clover)

Build-Up Insp: Quirk: Hardening Kirishima

Uses Insp: Quirk: Foldabody Edgeshot

Transformation,

The quirk allows the user to essentially ignite their body becoming more flame like after some time, their appearance resembling by a hue of colors of that of a flame, while like this the user power is increased, becoming hotter and hotter the more time they spent like this. This starts off as the user being a flame, burning things with a touch. (simple fire quirk) The more time spent in this form the more their range and power increase.

The true power comes after reaching a level of intensity their transformation takes a more fire look with their body being on fire, instead of a enclosed flame. While at the start the user is essentially just burning things when they touch them, after becoming hot enough their body starts to loosen like flames, capable of reaching things futher away and burning them their flames being far more stronger.

This in turn allows them to propel themselves, hit someone further away (10m), burn things around them, make shapes out of their flame body, burn through walls.

The user is immune to the fire they’re producing, they don’t lose their body functions when they loosen up, the quirk also offers a small power increase in order to further protect the user from their intense heat, boosting their body the hotter they become.

Drawbacks: The user will suffer exhaustion after going overboard, and the build-up is slow taking a few minutes to reach that intensity. Going over the limit makes so their flames are far more stronger but in turn they lose their control and become more dangerous as their fire spreads more. The user needs to practice building up and applying their power properly.

Clarifications:

The fire acts as the user’s body so if the fire gets hit the user’s body will get hit. The loosen form makes it so the user can still control their body having bigger range and malleability, the body is immune to fire, this makes so if the user is getting hit by fire it boosts the flame intensity, this can work to either help the user in order to reach the form faster or make so the user goes over their limit forcing them to stop using their quirk.

Insp: She’s cool

Build-up: The quirk offers a light build-up while at the start that is not anything significant with time the power can also help their fire-power boosting it.

Uses: The quirk I imagine it more like foldabody, while the user can loosen themselves they still have to be connected to their body in order to function properly. it’s similar to foldabody in the sense of malleability being a living flame, I don’t think they can pull off what Foldabody does only to some extent like loosing their body to go through vents.

Thank you for reading!

This a quirk i made based of horis self representation and another hand based character. Manus, mutant: Users entire upper body is a giant hand. They can controlit as easily as a hand, while its strength is augmented by size. The user can use it to crawl fast, flick away large objects, crush anything in their grip, and a million other things a giant hand can do Continuous performance of dexterous and strength-based task while give the user temporary carpal tunnel/arthritis (idk what to pick, i just know their hand conditions). I want your thoughts and advice to improve it, also have a good day.

quirk idea: polyphonic. it mutates the user’s vocal chords, allowing them to sing multiple notes at once, up to ten. they have to have sung the desired note(s) within the last couple of hours to use it in a solo harmony. they also get an insane range, reaching higher than sopranos and lower than basses. overuse causes a sore throat and losing your voice.

basically that’s it. it’s for my pop star oc lol

Could you a quirk of Final Flash From DBZ

mmmm well! I don’t know if it would be possible! I think it looks too much like Decay! But… how could it be a Quick based on Fairy Tail’s “Crash”, Gildarts’ magic?

Would it be possible for just the Great Ape form to be made into a Quirk? Obviously the full moon aspect would likely be removed, but a Transformation type Quirk that allows it’s user to turn into a giant gorilla seems perfectly possible, if not the most interesting of superpowers.

If your still answering questions do you think you give an overall option on the Monster Summon quirk we saw in the You’re Next movie? What kind of training do you think the user would go through if they were a hero student? And do you think the user we saw hit a limit in the different kinds of monsters he could make or do you think he could have been a bit more creative with it?

I really need help with my quirk idea based on the character surtr fron Arknights and by extension Surtr the god of war. It is an Emitter and transformation Lava quirk that can basically make the user able to create and control both hot lava/magma and igneous rocks around her, she can also temporarily change her body into lava. For a reason she have a flaming sword ( the character surtr have one i think that’s cool) and some special moves of her is her “molten geant” it’s a geant magma monster (the one with surtr from Arknights) that can multiply himself and change size all depending on the user’s current strength. Idk if that’s too much info or not but yeah

Hey, do you do Quirk Analysis of fanmade quirks from fanfictions? If so, what do you think about the quirk Total Command from a fanfiction of same name?

How about a quirk that makes the user invisible and also allow them to summon invisible chains to entangle their enemies by stealth.

Ben 10 Gutrot Quirk idea: Gas changer The user has nozzles all over the top half of their body that expels any kinds of gas from. This gas isn’t created but transformed from the air/gas they breathe in. They can also breathe in any any gas harmful or not without problems such as mustard and maybe midnight. Uses include purifying the air. Weaknesses could include lung size capacity unless that just suck and expel air at the same time continuously and they cant control the gas they expel. Feel free to tell me why this wont work

Healing quirk but it works under the same logic as Marcille from Dungeon Meshi. Her healing causes pain,unintentionally,as a side effect (there’s mentions of actual pain,itching,tingling,etc) and it’s done via close physical touch

And if any of you would like to have your questions covered, here is a list of all the ones I've gotten over the period of time the ask box was closed. If you're interested, please do send them again. Thank you all for your patience as I cleared things out. I finally freed up over two hundred asks, not counting anything I got afterwards, and it feels pretty freeing.

[dougiejack]

luke/john marino - surprise

Again we have abandoned the 5 sentence rule. I simply cannot limit myself when it comes to my boy and I should not have to I think.

John is impossible to shop for. His birthday is during the offseason so it’s not like they’re together (Luke refuses to think about how, technically, the season is still going for many people), Johnny is back home in Boston with his family and Luke is in Michigan at the lake house with Jack and Quinn who are being decidedly unhelpful in this situation.

“Buy him hockey gear, you know that’s his actual only interest.” Good point but that’s not good enough, Jack.

“Buy him a car.” Shut the fuck up, Quinn.

“Buy him a dildo so he doesn’t miss you too much.” Extra shut the fuck up, Trevor, why are you even here?

Jack, being the only one who knows Johnny of the three of them, does actually have the best suggestion, there really isn’t anything John cares about as much as he cares about hockey, he reads his big smart guy books but how would Luke even know what a good one is? Clothes are an option maybe but if Luke is gonna buy clothes he’s gonna go for what he likes to see Johnny in and that’s not fair to do to himself if he can’t see him in them for four months. It’s Johnny’s birthday and he’s Luke’s first real serious boyfriend and this is the first time they’ve had to be apart for an extended time since they got together.

It finally occurs to Luke that he really doesn’t have to be thinking so hard, the solution is obvious and staring him in the face.

The look of surprised joy on John’s face is the best reaction Luke could have hoped for (with the kiss he receives when he’s yanked into the house by his shirt at a very close second), well worth the cost of a last minute plane ticket and some heckling by his brothers. 

It’s Luke’s turn to be surprised when John tells him “I have a plane ticket booked for next week to Michigan, just needed to get through my birthday with the family.” 

“I didn’t want to miss you anymore.” Luke replies, kissing him again for good measure.

[atmilliways]

Wrong On The Money (30)

part 30 of ?? | 1108 words | Teen+

Blackmail fic on Ao3 | on tumblr

Summary:

Even though Vecna wasn’t able to open his fourth gate and Supergirl has sealed the rest, Eddie sees plenty of property damage from the ‘earthquake’ on the drive from the hospital to the new house. School is still out because the high school gym is currently an emergency shelter. And Eddie is still confined to bed rest.

Featuring Eddie and Dustin having the "you almost died in my arms, you asshole" convo. This is unbeta'd btw, I die like Eddie didn't.

30.

Even though Vecna wasn’t able to open his fourth gate and Supergirl has sealed the rest, Eddie sees plenty of property damage from the ‘earthquake’ on the drive from the hospital to the new house. School is still out because the high school gym is currently an emergency shelter. And Eddie is still confined to bed rest.

Though the doctors have at least cleared him to dress himself and use the bathroom on his own. That's something.

While Steve is still at his parents’ house, packing up his things, Dustin comes over to ‘scope out the new digs.’ Eddie snorts at the phrasing, but doesn’t mind that Wayne let him in.

Anything to keep his mind off how there’s no answer at Jeff, Frank, or Gareth’s house, and he doesn’t know any other numbers to try calling. He isn’t stupid; he knows any or all of his friends and their families might have put Hawkins in their rear-view mirrors forever.

So, yeah. There are worse things than Dustin Henderson being presumptuous and a little annoying, while Eddie remains a prisoner of bed rest in his new blank slate of a room.

“I can’t believe you and Steve are going to live together,” Dustin tells him gleefully after scampering around on a self-guided tour. “I knew you guys could be friends if you just gave each other a chance. And he’s needed to get out of that house for forever, man.” The kid pauses to sigh wistfully and shake his head. “I am gonna miss his pool, though.”

Eddie cocks an eyebrow at him. “I could go a good long while without swimming again, but thanks.”

“Ugh, that’s what Steve keeps saying. You guys are lame.” Dustin plops himself down on the edge of the bed with a little bounce. It doesn’t jostle Eddie enough to be worth commenting on. “You’re going to have to help him decorate his room, you know. He’s hopeless. His last bedroom? Was plaid. The curtains matched the wallpaper and he barely had anything on his walls besides a framed photo of a car. It’s high time for an intervention.”

“This is literally the first time I’ve heard you talk about Steve without reverence in your tone and stars in your eyes, Dustybuns,” Eddie informs him.

And he’s being honest, but also he’s still a little stuck on the pool comments. In his and Steve’s time as roommates, they’ve each borne witness to their fair share of the other’s night terrors. He knows about Barb now, through a strangled route of post-nightmare word vomiting. Knows exactly why Steve is happy to see the last of that pool, even though it’s heated and used to be his favorite place until . . . things.

It doesn’t shock him that Dustin seems unaware of this, exactly. But it’s jarring to realize that he, Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson, has been granted this special insight. Shouldn’t he be rolling with disadvantage, here?

“Eddie?” Dustin snaps his fingers in front of his face. “Eddie!!”

Eddie blinks out of his reverie and shoves the hand away. “What? Your fingers smell like fruit roll-ups, man, what the hell.”

One look serves as a vivid reminder that a few weeks ago he’d almost died in the kid’s arms.

“You weren’t answering,” Dustin huffs, blinking hard in an unsuccessful attempt to hide his concern.

Wake up, I don’t like this.

Fuck. “Sorry,” Eddie says with a wince.

He doesn’t exactly remember what he’d thought were going to be his last minutes of life, just hazy bits. Like it was a campaign he had run once and now tries to recall but . . . there are gaps big enough to fit dragons through. But he remembers the taste of blood and someone trying to talk to him, someone crying screaming begging him to please answer. He can’t remember if he’d tried, only that nothing happened.

They haven’t talked about it. Eddie thinks that maybe they should, and shifts up against his mountain of pillows until he’s propped more upright.

“I’m sorry,” he says, stronger this time. Firm, like he means it—because he does. “I never meant for you to have to see that.”

Dustin ducks his head, and Eddie is pretty sure he’s crying for real now. “What about cutting the rope?” he asks thickly. “Are you sorry about that?”

“Nope.” Eddie pops his lips on the P, trying to startle a laugh out of the kid—but it doesn’t work. Of course it doesn’t, he’s kind of a dumbass. “I promised Steve I’d keep you safe, y’know? Better what happened than seeing those things follow us through the gate and rip into you, dude. I couldn’t let that. . . . Not after Chrissy.”

With a choked little sound, Dustin nods. “I’m, I’m still mad at you.”

Hesitant, Eddie reaches out and puts his palm flat on Dustin’s back. When the kid doesn’t flinch or move away, he rubs in a gentle circle, like he half remembers his mom doing, once upon a time. “That’s fair. I’m mad at me for stuff too.”

“Good.” And then, mumbled very quietly, “Butthead.”

There’s a long, long moment of silence. Eddie sits with it for as long as he can. Likely not very long, all told, but he’s never been good at that—always needing to move, to fidget. But he’s not supposed to get out of bed (and actually won’t, because it still hurts . . . for now) and one of his hands is occupied so he can’t play with his rings, and there’s only so much he can fiddle with his own hair before the inaction of it all starts to feel like ants under his skin.

He clears his throat and takes his hand back, fingers dancing over his rings to give each one a quarter-turn-and-back. “Yeah, um, so. What was it you were saying, before?”

Ever one to bounce back, Dustin shakes his head with a sigh. “I was saying,” he starts in a voice that only partly sounds like he’s been crying, “that my mom wants you guys to all come over for dinner tomorrow night. Wayne too. And I’ve done my best to convince her that you’re not a Satanist, but if you could . . . not tone yourself down, I would never ask you to do that, but. . . .”

And yeah, Eddie gets it. Hopper had told him something similar about the entire town until the court of popular opinion finds something else to focus on. “Just lay low for a while, try not get anyone excited. That means no hot wiring, no dealing, and no pontificating from park benches or cafeteria tables. You got that, Munson, or do I need to tattoo it on your forehead?”

Not that he’d be able to read his own forehead, much less climb on top of anything right now, but. Yeah, he gets it.

“Okay, fine,” he says, heaving a (far more theatrical) sigh of his own. “I’ll cast Charm Person and try not to jump on any of the furniture. Good?”

Dustin snorts and turns, and his eyes are a little red but otherwise he seems fine. They’re going to be fine. “Yeah, good. Tell Steve he’s in charge of making dessert, and it’d better be lemon bars or I’m asking Max for the number of her lawyer.”

Oh, there’s a story there. Eddie arches an eyebrow and says, “Only if you tell me the backstory to that one.”

“Deal,” Dustin agrees, and immediately launches into it.

Yeah. They're going to be fine.

[happyinjection]

♠️♥️High Card Short Story 6 “An Afternoon with Finn and Chris” (1/3)♦️♣️

What do car dealers do on their lunch break? Finn, for one, took Chris out to the backyard of the store...

Original: https://twitter.com/highcard_pj/status/1540170704884072448

Author: https://twitter.com/poipheno

Artist: https://twitter.com/ebimoji3

Lunch break. I stuffed a sandwich into my mouth and dragged Chris out through the backdoor by his arm. 

“Finn~ I was planning to eat dessert after my lunch, you know~”

“You’ve promised to do it today, remember? Come on, let’s go.”

The backyard was bathed in soft sunlight, and purple flowers were blooming from the plants tended by Bernard-ojiichan and Vijay.

“What a pushy kid. Fine, just give a moment.”

Chris, who appeared reluctant, didn’t move from his spot as he shoved a spoonful of pudding from the jar into his mouth.

“Hurry up. We don’t have much time.”

“Okay, okay. I got it.”

Previously, I had gotten Chris to promise that he would teach me martial arts. Long story short, we had been busy with our job as car dealers, and thus our plan had been postponed several times, but today both of us could finally make it.

“I’m not a fan of getting all sweaty with men, though.”

“Stop saying disgusting stuff so often. Come on, hurry up and teach me already!”

“I don’t think it’s anything worth teaching.”

I took off my suit jacket, pulled my necktie off, then draped them over a garden bench. I also took off my watch and rolled up the sleeves of my shirt.

“I mean, Finn, you’re already pretty good at fighting. Surely you have no need for extra training?”

“No problem, just teach me what you know!”

Before I joined High Card, I used to do boxing casually with my friends. However, after going on several missions with Chris, I learned that people who have been through intense training are on an entirely different level compared to those who don’t.

According to what he told me, it seemed that Chris had been trained in martial arts by his father when he was young. His basic skills laid in muay thai and MMA—mixed martial arts. In short, he could do anything in terms of full body combat.

“Very well, for the sake of my cute junior, I guess I can afford to take off a layer or two. One thrust at a time, maybe something more would come out of this, yeah?[*]”

I had no idea what he meant by that, but Chris simply chuckled at me.

“Show me what you’ve got.”

“’Kay.”

I took a shoulder-width stance by putting my left foot forward, then held up both of my fists to the height of my cheeks.

“My style is kind of like boxing. Here it comes, shadow.”

Shadow is a term for when one attacks or dodges while imagining their opponent in their head.

One-two, hook, uppercut, body-ducking, and swayback, I alternated between hitting and dodging.

The cobblestones on the ground rubbed against my leather soles, producing a crisp sound.

“So, how was it? What should I change to improve?”

I panted heavily through my nose.

“Isn’t that already good enough the way it is?”

“What the hell, there’s no way that’s true! Tell me your actual thoughts!”

“No, no, I’m serious. You did good enough. To be fair, on our missions, we don’t usually get into situations where we must go wild in a fistfight, anyway.”

“It did happen last time, though.”

“Finn has sharp eyesight, so you’ll be just fine. Besides, this place is not ideal for training to begin with. MMA especially requires us to work as a pair and involves a lot of getting thrown down. If you’ll follow me to my bed, perhaps then I would reconsider.”

Ignoring his joke, I turned on my heels.

“Alright then! I’m just gonna ask Wendy to teach me.”

In an instant Chris was grabbing on my arm.

“Stop right there! Wendy doesn’t know how to take it easy when giving a lesson, she will definitely break you!”

“So hurry up and teach me instead.”

“Okay, okay. So eager to get back together after breaking up with me, huh.”

Chris took off his suit jacket and threw it over the garden bench. Following that he pulled his necktie off and undid his first button. He took off his dark green watch, then finally rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. Due to his tall height, he might seem slender at a glance, but his arms were strong with visible blue veins running all the way down to his wrists.

“Here we go, let’s get into position one more time.”

As I was getting ready, Chris walked around behind me. He put his hands on my shoulders, rubbing on them.

“Hmm, nice frame.”

“Don’t get too handsy with me.”

“No, I’m just stating the truth? Not only you have good eyesight, but you also have a strong body, and you’re surprisingly flexible. Alright, go ahead and start with another one-two.”

I gave him a one-two.

“There’s an opening on your side. Also, your left side isn’t extended wide enough. Since Finn is ambidextrous, if closely observed, your balance when throwing a hit is better than most people.”

While saying that, Chris kept his hands on my hip bones the entire time. It bugged me, but I held on.

“Leave yourself to me, and relax.”

“No need to say unnecessary stuff.”

“Now, pay attention on how you rotate your left hip.”

“Like this?”

“Pull your shoulders in a bit more. Don’t tuck your chin.”

“So, like this?”

“Don’t let your body get carried away. Plant your feet firmly on the ground.”

“Then how about this—!”

Suddenly, whoosh, a faint sound of my fist cutting through the air could be heard.

“Woah! That sound just now, did you catch that?!?! That’s one hell of a punch!”

“Well, you pretty much got it. However, sports and an actual combat are two different things. If you stick to your own rules you will lose, such is the theory of fighting. Thankfully Finn is already good at making things up on the spot, so why not trust your own eyes and intuition?”

“If you say so..... but first, get your hands off my waist.”

With a grin tugging on his lips, Chris held up both of his hands comically.

♠️♥️♦️♣️

TL notes: Chris “sexual innuendo” Redgrave, everyone. [*] This is not exactly what he says but you get the idea. Also, this is the best pun I can come up with at the moment. Once again I’m not posting this one in the correct order but I feel like this must be done before episode 9! As usual, let’s enjoy High Card together~