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silverraes · 1 year ago

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10 BL Boys I Want Carnally

10 BL Boys That Make Me Feel Things™

(not sexual, not romantic but a secret third thing)

okay so I wasn't exactly tagged in this but I saw several people doing this and I'll take just about any excuse to scream about my favorite characters so I'm just going to very sneakily join in on this trend 👀

there is absolutely no ranking to these bc I couldn't rank them if I wanted to

(also I changed the name a little bc my ace ass is literally physically incapable of wanting anyone carnally but I still have lots of thoughts lmao)

1) Tharn (The Sign)

I mean. is literally anyone surprised that this is where we're starting?

he's the nicest person out there. he can kick your ass if he wants to. he lost his parents at a young age and is absolutely convinced that everyone he loves is doomed to die and he keeps seeing visions of people dying and he's told again and again that those he has wronged in a past life - which he doesn't even remember - are still out to get him and yet he has so much kindness left for the world??

also he can be such a little shit and knows exactly how to tease Phaya back I love him so goddamn much.

(also that mole-)

2) Kim (Kinnporsche)

was he also on my characters I'd hit with my car list? maybe. and what about it.

I love him so much. he's such a badass but he's such a loser. famous singer who falls for a fan he was supposed to be investigating but is too emotionally constipated to admit it. badass son of a mafia family who can kick ass but only if he wants to. who does it like him honestly

(it also helps that he's played by just about the prettiest man alive)

3) Babe (Pit Babe)

did I start watching this show ironically? yes. is every mention of alphas and mpreg and that mama/papa thing hitting me like a brick and causing me 9000 psychic damage every single time? also yes. did I absolutely fall in love with the show and just about every character in it? you bet your fucking ass I did.

but I especially love Babe. he's just so babygirl. special alpha man who has to act tough and strong but just wants to be babied by his dumbass loser (affectionate) alpha boyfriend. like, he's actually so goddamn soft?? I love him.

4) Guy (Bake Me Please)

I think we all knew this was coming. I was literally gushing about him for half of the episodes. Guy my beloved. that show did not deserve you.

he spends the entire show supporting his crush's every decision and trying to make sure he's okay literally how could you not love this man

(yes he was a petty bitch for like 5 minutes there but he immediately apologized for it the next episode. properly. unlike certain other people-)

5) Sprite (Twins)

he's so himbo coded. himbo of all himbos. the himboest. not a brain cell in that head. he's my little dumbass I love him.

he deserves so much better than what he's being put through. someone please just love and support him for who he is. and also take him away from that family

(please talk to your boyfriend tho I am begging)

6) Wei Wuxian (The Untamed)

MY BELOVED. I could write essays about him. he's such a great character I love him so fucking much. if you ever had to bear witness to me talking about him.. I am so sorry.

sassy emo bitch with a flute and a tragic backstory who's seen as evil by just about everyone but only ever had the best intentions. absolute fucking dumbass. kicks ass. always smiling despite the circumstances. loves his siblings so damn much. doomed by the narrative. what more could you possibly ask for

7) Zhou Zishu (Word of Honor)

I'm trying so damn hard to keep this list to one character per show and it really took me a while to decide if I wanted to include him or Wen Kexing but ultimately it was Zhou Zishu for me

just.. god. him. assassin sect leader just trying to retire who keeps getting dragged into the biggest bullshit but doesn't really mind bc the bullshit comes with a mysterious pretty man. also that whole god damn nail thing. I have so many thoughts and feelings about that but this post would get too long if I got started on those-

(also actually pulling the "I'm literally dying" card to get out of chores is so fucking valid of him. more characters should do that)

8) Milk (Choco Milk Shake)

he is quite fucking literally a reincarnated cat, of course I love him. I could list reasons for why I love him but it would be the exact same reasons just about every cat person on earth lists for why they love cats so. but here's a quick summary, just in case:

petty. dramatic. knocks over glasses. silently loves you so fucking much.

9) Tew (My Dear Gangster Oppa)

I really did not expect to love him this much? greenest of green flags (except for the plot line we shall not talk about). can and will kill people and is fine with it (seriously it is so refreshing to see a mafia character not having a huge moral dilemma about being in the mafia). both a badass mafia man and a gamer guy who doesn't know how to talk to people and is absolutely whipped for his gamer bf.

also scars make a person just about 110x more attractive I don't make the rules. even if the scars are weird and yellow, it's the thought that counts.

10) Tian (A Tale of Thousand Stars)

I? love him??

I just love how he sets out to do something for someone he didn't even know because he feels like this person deserves that much at least and how he ends up genuinely loving and caring for those kids and the village and this inner conflict he's having the entire time but hiding oh so well and how he actually calls out his parents on their rich people bs and-

tagging everyone who reads this far and wants to do it. seriously. I mean it. if you want to do this, please go ahead and say I tagged you. I love reading everyone's thoughts.

#this list is just me going “i love him sm” ten times in a row lmao #apparently my type is just pretty man who is secretly a loser nerd #the sign the series #kinnporsche #pit babe the series #bake me please the series #twins the series #the untamed #word of honor #choco milk shake #my dear gangster oppa #a tale of thousand stars #thai bl #kbl #danmei

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darkkitty1208 · 1 year ago

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The past few weeks before I finally returned from my unofficial hiatus, I've lost a lot of my motivation to write and anything to do with being part of the fandom as a whole. I contemplated quitting and never returning again, deleting all my works and socials and any other trace of me anyone could find, but I know that it's just the anxiety talking and my brain playing tricks with me due to IRL stress and that logically, I *do* have a place here in the fandom space. So I held back.

Now that I'm here again -- and have been welcomed very warmly by dear friends -- the urge to create has finally come around again and I want to get back into writing. It's just that, god, I feel very rusty. It's been quite a while and I feel like the words have run away from me after not using them for so long. I look into my mostly-abandoned WIPs and I can't find the right way to continue them.

But despite that, I decided to do a bit of the good ol' self-projecting and started a WIP (instead of finishing my old ones, lol). It's not much, but it's something. I felt compelled to share in hopes it would motivate me to write some more. This is all I've got so far, and it is admittedly very rough, but it's getting there.

Here’s the thing: healing isn't linear.

These are words repeated over and over again by those who you wouldn't think ever even had to heal. They're the kind of words that would lose its meaning the more they're said, and have you start wondering if to some people, they ever had any sort of meaning to begin with.

You can never really tell where it starts or where it finishes, or how it happened or if it ever did happen, the same way the flawed five stages of grief could never explain the true act of mourning and the same way your every emotion defies anything your logic could ever tell you.

Sometimes, Stephen finds, some things are just unexplainable like that.

Sometimes, Stephen doesn't think he's capable of healing. Sometimes, especially in nights where every bit of his sanity starts to fall apart and each choking breath would sting as it enters his damned lungs, he thinks he's too far gone to be capable of it at all.

(Sometimes he would sit silently and stare into nothing, thinking about the way nobody would understand that at some point in his life, he wasn't the man he used to be anymore. Sometimes he could feel it, the thing that consumed him, that took away who he was, and the way it would take up every space in his ribcage and burn his insides like acid, the way it would rip apart the space in his chest where his heart used to be. Sometimes he would think about it, and the way that it makes him nothing but an empty shell of a man. Every day that thing would grow inside of him and one day, it might ruin him; as if he isn't already far too broken to begin with.)

But it's here, in the roof of a sentient building he's grown to call his home where various pots are neatly arranged in small shelves, with his trembling fingers digging into rich soil and dirt sticking underneath his fingernails, that he starts to find proof that maybe, he had the capability after all.

It's here that he understands why humans would pick up a trowel and spend so much time getting on their hands and knees to dirty themselves with grimes of dirt.

There's something about the green of the Earth and the smell of her moist dirt in the early mornings, damp from the moon's tears, that soothes a part of him that he couldn't quite identify. There's something comforting about the mindless action of digging and burying and placing and watering. There's something comforting about knowing that his damaged fingers could sprout life even if it all depended on time.

But that's the thing, isn't it? Everything is just a matter of time.

(Sometimes he wishes healing isn't linear, the way he wishes time doesn't march on an ascending line.)

He remembers the same damp smell of moss and the same smudges of dirt on the knees of his trousers back then, the first time he was taught about gardening and farming and sprouting life from seeds.

He had still been a small boy in Nebraska, back then. He had been young, and he had never understood patience the way he does now. He didn't understand that what he planted was something that, if anything, was considered a miracle, and that miracles took time, and that miracles don't last forever. He didn't understand that life and decay is just a matter of time, and that everything including himself would eventually be nothing but rotting flesh and cracked bones, becoming one with the earth and consumed by the maggots and mushrooms.

Because that's the thing: everything is just a matter of time.

The experience had meant nothing to him then, and had taught him nothing much of anything at all, but it means something to him now.

#my writing #wip #ramblings

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sammysdewysensitiveeyes · 2 years ago

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Wait, I thought of more (less dark) Morph headcanons to subject you all to.

At the end of Season 2, after Morph turns on Sinister and helps blow him up (it’s great that Morph and Cyclops can bond over blasting Sinister back to hell, very wholesome), they collapse and fall unconscious, despite not appearing to be physically injured. In fact, the next time we see Morph they are getting loaded up on the Blackbird in a stretcher. And there’s a Morph cameo much later in a Season 4 episode where Wolverine and Cyclops are leaving Muir Island, and you see what appears to be Moira and Morph in a wheelchair waving goodbye. So what’s up with that?

Really, Morph conveniently passing out at the end of Season 2 is just the writers pushing them back out of the story without dealing with any of the messy stuff that happened. (And we arguably never get closure for all that. Morph’s return in Courage was all about whether they are ready to be an X-Man again. The closest we get is Morph approaching Cyclops and saying, “Scott, been a long time...” which I think was Morph’s way of saying, “We’re cool now, bro, I promise I won’t try to kill you.”) And Morph having cameos on Muir Island was just a convenient little way to remind viewers, yeah, they’re there, they’re hurt but healing.

My headcanon - Sinister implanted Morph with some kind of mind-control device, which he mostly used to cause Morph severe pain whenever they tried to push back against Sinister’s control. At the end of Season 2, Sinister activates the device again, and it keeps brain-zapping Morph for quite awhile. I’m guessing that the device gave Morph actual, physical brain damage that they needed time to recover from. Maybe they even spent some time in a coma after being rescued, and had to go through the “learning how to walk again” process. Morph was also probably not in the best physical health - I can imagine them being run ragged, and not really eating or sleeping much while they were either under Sinister’s control, or trying to escape from it.

I have one really dark idea that maybe the implanted device actually had some kind of kill switch in it, to be activated if something happened to Sinister, and Xavier had to remove it quickly and do some psychic surgery to keep Morph’s body from shutting down.

Or maybe Morph was in a wheelchair in that one episode because they were recovered enough to start practicing with their powers again and they managed to hurt themselves trying out a really, really dumb shapeshifting trick. The possibilities are endless!

I think Morph spent enough time on Muir Island to really bond with Moira. After a certain point in their recovery, before they were ready to rejoin the team, I think Morph spent some time acting as Moira’s research assistant and watching British TV with her, just to have something to do. Exiles Morph has a Masters in Computer Engineering, so I’m imagining TAS Morph was a Comp Sci major. Maybe they wrote some programs for Moira while hanging around trying to recover.

Every now and then, when Moira calls the mansion with news, she’ll get sidetracked with, “Morph, didja see the latest Doctor Who?!” or whatever shows they watched together.

Morph was the IT guy for a company prior to joining the X-Men (and I have a whole headcanon about how that happened), and it caused them more hatred for humanity than being a mutant ever did. “God DAMN it, Ted, stop downloading viruses, I will find you a safe website to look at porn, just please stop clicking every link that says “Sexy milfs in your area.”

#morph #kevin sydney

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sometimesraven · 2 years ago

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@febuwhump Day 2: Flinching

Fandom: Quantum Leap (2022)

Whumpee: Dr Ian Wright

Summary: Jenn has learned to keep a close eye on Dr Ian Wright.

AO3 Link

~~*———————————————*~~

Jenn knew to keep an eye on Ian.

It was Jenn's job to keep an eye on basically everything, sure, but she knew to watch Ian in particular. Not least because they would probably sit up with Ziggy for like fifteen hours post-shift if she let them.

Mostly it was because Ian was the kind of smart that thought having a huge-ass brain would make up for the way they instinctively ducked away from touch when they weren't expecting it.

She didn't quite know what Ian's damage was (though she'd spent enough nights on the town with them that she could guess), and she knew... basically everything you could know about a friend before you decided 'fuck it' and got married for the benefits. She'd seen Ian on their knees at a party wearing basically nothing, she'd seen them working themself into a panic about one tiny-ass line of code they couldn't figure out, she'd seen them make a grown man cry with a well-placed and near-on evil jab at an insecurity she didn't know they knew he had.

Point was, she'd seen Ian in a lot of compromising positions. But vulnerable? Like, honestly vulnerable? Never. As far as she could tell, their sunshine-y, "brightest queer on the team" thing was genuine. They seemed genuinely comfortable with who they were and who they surrounded themself with; happy with their place in life and how they got there.

And yet, they always seemed to know exactly where everyone was in the room. And they knew when someone was close, and they knew when someone was about to touch them. It was real cussing hard to catch Dr Ian Wright off-guard and it broke her god-damn heart. She knew enough people like that to know what kind of baggage they were carrying.

The situation with Ben had everyone distracted, she knew. These days she'd taken to doing a couple laps past the lab doors every so often, just in case. Sure enough, Ian was completely engulfed in troubleshooting Ziggy again, eyes wide through those stupid-cute circle glasses like they didn't already look like a baby deer -- and yup, there was Addison coming in with the headlights.

She watched from a distance for now: if she stepped in too early it'd have the opposite effect. Ian didn't like to be perceived too early. Still, she hovered just out of sight, watching and waiting for her cue as Addison leaned over their shoulder, a hand on their back.

Ian, as expected, just about jumped out of today's flavor of beige (a cute little cardigan she couldn't wait to get rid of later). They greeted Addison with a slightly wobbly smile, kicking straight to work as they always did -- but Jenn could see the signs. Bouncing leg? Check. Hands literally just sliding across the keyboard for something to keep them occupied? Yeah.

It was when the stressed little tight-lipped and toothless smile dimpled their cheeks that Jenn stepped in.

"Hey, Addison?" she said before she'd even made it to the table, "It okay if I interrupt for a hot minute? Gotta discuss something with Ian. Code stuff."

It was a weak excuse. But she had the advantage of details just-.. not being her thing. Addison nodded, striding off without argument (it wasn't like they hadn't done this a million times anyway. Jenn was pretty sure everyone knew why by now, but nobody mentioned it), and Jenn swept into her spot, quickly putting a casual arm around her friend and pretending to look at something on the screen. "Breathe."

"Breathe!" They whispered through short, sharp breaths; their mask all but melted as they leant into Jenn's hold. "Wh-why didn't I think of that?"

"Alright asshole, you're welcome," she chuckled, giving them the subtlest of squeezes. As much as it was unwanted touch that set them off, Jenn found that wanted touch pretty much pulled them out of anything. Sure enough, they slowly relaxed into their hug with a little of that breathwork they were kind-of-okay at.

"Y-you're right, sorry, I-.." Another breath, then another of those weak smiles up at her, "Any longer and I think I'd--"

"Tear her a new one?" Jenn scoffed, ruffling their hair (then quickly flattening it back into place), "Yeah, I don't think anyone wants to see that."

"Good thing I've got you." The line was trying to be optimistic, she could tell, but it came out flatly; like a dull resignation.

"I should get back to work, if you're good now. But-.." Carefully, making sure Ian was still steady, she leaned forward to make sure they could see her. "You know you can talk to me, right? And not just under the influence of something illicit."

Ian huffed out what could almost be a laugh, nodding slightly but continuing to stare at the screen, flicking inanely through code in what she knew to be their way of indicating they didn't want to talk anymore. Nodding, she gave them one last pat on the back and left.

She'd drag them to see a movie tonight. Movies on the couch with something strong and a couple boxes of tissues.

#febuwhump #febuwhumpday3 #febuwhump 2023 #quantum leap #quantum leap 2022 #dr ian wright #ian wright #jenn chou #quantum leap is good actually fuck all o' yous

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keeksybee · 1 year ago

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Warning Spoilers:

I’m on a scrubs kick right now and I just watched season 5 ep 5 ‘My new God’ and I was thinking to myself how much I love the development of Perry and JD’s relationship over the seasons. Their dynamic is certainly complicated but you can tell that Perry really sees an exceptional future doctor in JD and it’s why he rides him so hard, you also know in the back of your head that Perry refusing to fall into the Father/Son is probably the healthiest thing he could do for JD in the long run, it’s actually very emotionally considerate when you think about it. Perry is aware he’s deeply flawed and he’s also aware that JD has an incredible level of hero worship for him on top of losing his own Father, to give into JD’s whims would be 1) to allow him to infantilise himself and depend on Perry too much and 2) to create a worse sort of attachment anxiety than he already has if and when he eventually left Sacred Heart, he obviously wants what’s best for him and what struck me about ep 5 is the almost ease that he admits that he was abused, even if it’s delivered passive aggressively, you can’t imagine it in season 1 or even 2 or 3, admitting to JD that there was a time when he was scared and small and helpless, given how much of an emphasis he places on the fact he’s independent and successful in spite of his upbringing and that’s he a man’s man, it’s still got to be difficult to acknowledge let alone tell people about, I honestly don’t believe he talks about it easily or is open when people ask.

The strange thing about children of abuse is that they often blame themselves, in the back of his head, I think Perry blames himself in some way, he knows logically the fact that his Father was violent wasn’t his fault but his brain tells him that somehow it is anyway, I think he’s terrified that between Jack and JD he’ll damage them in different ways beyond repair, his ego aside I don’t think he actually sees himself as someone to look up to, arrogant, condescending, rude, leaning towards alcoholism and cruel, the good that he performs is repentance for his sins, which, as an atheist he finds ironic, then JD walks into his life and this slightly girlish, day dreaming resident worms his way into Perry’s supposedly dead, cold heart and he doesn’t know what to do with the feeling of fondness so he pushes him away, but JD keeps coming back, every insult, every jibe is dismissed and the kid is still waiting for him in the morning eyes shining with adoration he doesn’t deserve, he won’t give up, he won’t relent, there is nothing Perry can do that gets rid of him so he accepts him.

He accepts him and he begins to trust him, by the time season five rolls around he’ll admit his darkest secret and hope the JD doesn’t use it against him, he doesn’t, he doesn’t give him pitying looks and he doesn’t offer placations, he hears it, understands and moves on, Perry can tell he wants to say more but for once Dorian manages to bite his tongue, his shoulders drop and his face clouds in a way he doesn’t like but that’s it, it’s controlled for Newbie, and they still have a shift to finish so he lets it go but JD corners him before the baptism and simply stares for what seems an inordinate amount of time before plucking up the courage to speak.

“I know you don’t want to hear this but I’m sorry about your Dad, mine, rest his soul I loved him, but he wasn’t the nicest drunk and I was always just…there”

The silence is deafening

“He got…physical, sometimes. So I get how it feels to an extent”

That was not what Perry had been expecting.

“I don’t know what to say Newbie”

“You don’t have to say anything, just know that someone understands it” he turns around and enters the church.

Damn that kid. Damn that annoying, overly sensitive, sweet, to big a heart for his own good kid.

#scrubs #perry cox #john dorian #season 5 #child abuse #developing relationship

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aviel-the-trans-bucket · 1 year ago

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Welcome back my madlads, today is our last foyer down emo nostalgia lane as my next post will likely be on Gerard’s solo album hesitant alien and his singles. Today we’ll be doing an mcr medley, any song I missed because it wasn’t on one of the main albums and also covers they’ve done. I’m excited to see what all is left so let’s get this started.

So this is kinda an eclectic mix of songs ranging from every snowflake is different to desolation row. I’m excited to listen to what’s left which does include fake your death and foundations of decay. I am hopeful maybe we’ll see a new album on the horizon but if not it was nice to feel a part of this sphere during this comeback. We’ll go by date and start with the songs that aren’t dated as they remain unreleased.

Note I’ll likely be very unfamiliar with most of these covers, the exception being all I want for Christmas because Mariah Carey is an scp and she lives in all our brains.

The Drugs: ok starting off, this one kinda rocks man. Good opening guitar. Ok is pretty good, but I’m pretty neutral on it. I might just be a lil over saturated on mcr after all this tbh, it may take a lot more to wow me now.

Sister To Sleep: ok this one is real difficult cause of my audio processing issues, I literally have no idea what’s being said, audio too crunchy. It’s probably a bop tho. Maybe I should have listened to a video of them playing it live instead.

Still Alive: ok so I literally could not find any reference of this on YouTube, oh well maybe one day some of these will get studio releases.

Jack The Ripper: ok cover time, let’s see what this one has to offer. Pretty groovy, not bad so far. Oh ok I think this one is gonna fuck. Once again my autism ears not liking crunchy audio. Again not bad I’m neutral on it, maybe if I was capable of hearing properly I’d like it more. It can’t be helped.

All I want For Christmas Is You: Ah yes, the cursed texts. I’m excited to hear their take on it, but I feel like every time I listen to it normally I take psychic damage. His voice is magic, gritty in the best ways. Slam me with the fucking guitar in the face man cmon do it. Yea this one is bop. I like it it, it’s nice. It’s not blasting my tits off but that’s fine.

Astro Zombies: ok next song, maybe this one will obliterate my shit. Ok got guitar. Oh this one kinda rocks. Got a good groove to it. Not bad, again we’re in like nice/good tier.

Under Pressure: so this song has a reputation, and yet I still haven’t even listened to the original. So of course time to listen to a cover. Oooooo I like this, oh fuck yea. This is what I’ve been waiting for! It’s not melting my face but it’s super fucking good tho!

Desert Song: ok acoustic time, this one is about to knock me on my ass into my feelings ain’t it? Oh this is beautiful. Also I’m getting some serious foundations vibes, “did you come to stare or wash away the blood” and “let it flood, let it flood, let it wash away” feel like parallels. Ok it’s somber and beautiful but it isn’t putting me in my feelings thank fuck. But this and foundations really do feel like sister songs. I really enjoy this, oddly relaxing in a way.

Song 2: this seems like another with crunchy audio, let’s hope I can understand what’s being said. Oh hello, guitar fucks. Oh damn, sassy. This one does fuck. Oooooooh fuck yea the guitar FUCKS!!

Untitled/ Someone Out There Loves You: oooo haunting opening melody, very pretty. And the guitar fucks! Ok this one rocks, like pretty fucking good.

The Black Parade Is Dead: ok short and sweet, the killing of the black parade, a nice interlude. Welcome back from the dead you beautiful bastards.

Desolation Row: Not sure what to expect but I’m kinda excited. Now this fucks! This rocks, I like this :). Maybe I should go back through and do all the mcr music videos, because for all these posts I’ve just been doing the audio.

Common People: ooo synthy. Ok this one is ok not bad. Again pretty neutral on it, but not bad. God damn the guitar is going nuts tho.

Every Snowflake Is Different (Just Like You): ah yes, the yo gabba gabba song. Let’s hear it, see how this goes. Yo why’s the audio so crispy. Ok new video. That’s better. This is cute, charming. It’s a good time, very cute.

Hell Hath No Fury: very short but kinda a banger, shame it’s was unfinished but what exsists is pretty nice.

Fake Your Death: damn we’re almost done, this is the last song I haven’t heard yet, before I get m6 face ripped off by foundations. Oh this is nice. Oh damn I like this beat. Man this is a fucking bop. Good song, I like.

Foundations Of Decay: here’s the last one until they drop new music boys, she’s been living in my liked videos almost since it dropped and boy does it blow our tits clean off. Comfortingly nostalgic but at the same time some entirely new and I’m so here for this glorious rebirth. Starts slow and staticky and lovely, then it drops and punches you in the face and I fucking LOVE It!!! And as the vermin crawl 😌. Shit moves through you man, I adore this song. GET! UP! COWARD!

Quite the journey, and I’m really hoping it isn’t over just yet! There were many songs, some ok and some that make me feel like I’m getting hit in the gut. This has been a wonderful journey from birth, to Black Death, to our own little Renaissance. I look forward to where we’ll go from here but for now, I must say goodbye. From here on I’ll be listening to the solo music of each of the members, my next post should be hesitant alien. It’s been real my madlads and my top 5 of this medley of songs are…

1: Foundations Of Decay (obviously)

2: Fake Your Death

3: Desolation Row

4: Desert Song

5: Under pressure

Man…it’s finally over. Well I guess I’ll see you madlads back with hesitant alien. Maybe I’ll see you back with a new mcr album if we’re lucky. It’s been a joy going down this walk down emo memory lane with you all, lots of love ❤️

#aviel rambles #aviels emo nostalgia music hour #mcr #my chem romance #my chemical romance #i’m catching up on old mcr stuff in the off chance they drop a new album post return #this sure was something #I’m honestly kinda sad it’s over #but it was a joy to do #and maybe later down the line I’ll rewatch all the old music videos since I only did audio for the song posts

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anthonysstupiddailyblog · 1 year ago

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Anthony's Stupid Daily Blog (535): Sun 3rd Sep 2023

I'm a few days in to this "Don't Break the Chain" challenge where I'm attempting to write at least one joke a day for a full year and I've already come up with a few decent ones. The trouble is because I have this God damn job I can't work on jokes in bed at home like I want to so what I've started doing is loading some news stories onto my phone before I go to work and then when I'm walking around at work I'll go over the stories in my head trying to think of jokes. Today I came up with a joke I was really proud of (i know I said I wouldn't post any of them on here but I'm so proud of myself for this one that I have to share it. Also I have to prove that I actually am sticking to this challenge and being productive). As you may have seen there are numerous schools which have been told to close because it's transpired that they were built with concrete that has a limited shelf life and could collapse at any moment. I thought about this for a while and eventually I wrote down "As if things can't get any worse for the Tories now they've found out that kids are going to schools built with weaker material than you'd find in one of Ricky Gervais' Netflix specials". In addition to this decent joke I also came up with a shit one when I saw on the Sunderland Global Network that a bunch of chickens had escaped from a farm in Ryhope and I posted "probably off to the town for a hen party". Now as I said that one is shit but at least it is a joke and hopefully now that my brain is getting used to thinking in terms of jokes it will churn out more actually funny ones than it will shitty Tim Vine-esque puns. Before bed I checked my phone and saw that CM Punk has been fired by AEW. I had hoped that after the last controversy with Punk stemming from Brawl Out and the fact that Khan literally gave him his own show in order to keep him happy and segregated from members of the roster he doesn't like that the issues with Punk would fizzle out. I went to bat for Punk so many times after the last incident but I really can't defend his behaviour this time, you can't threaten the boss and expect to get away with it. I like Punk as a wrestler and as a wrestling mind but the more I learn about the man behind the character the less I like him. I think that Punk's UFC run damaged him as a person more than he realized. This is a guy who grew up believing that if you work hard and believe in yourself then you can achieve anything you want. Then a few years ago he learned that no matter how much a jiu jitsu white belt works and believes in themselves they won't be able to beat a jiu jitsu brown belt in a cage fight. I think after Punk got his arse handed to him in that cage he developed a kind of Napoleon complex to the point where he has to constantly make out that he's the toughest guy in every room. It's like that expression "the weakest dogs bark the loudest". As happy as I was when I found out there would be a second AEW show I was less enthusiastic when I found out that Khan was basically going to let Punk run the show and do whatever the fuck he wanted. In recent weeks there have been reports that Punk had Christopher Daniels, Matt Hardy, Ryan Nemeth etc sent home because he sees them as the enemy which is bullshit and a wrestler shouldn't have that kind of influence over the product. Hopefully Punk's release will give him a chance to work on his ego and his little man complex and maybe if he can prove to Tony that he's a changed man then eventually we might see him back in an AEW ring one day.

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nochi-quinn · 1 year ago

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candela obsura chapter 2 episode .5: YOU get a body and YOU get a body

(I made a post about this on @nochiquinn but I've been having weird overstim fatigue every night around this time and it's been fucking with my ability to watch CR bc of time zones.)

I swear I've been watching base CR lately but I either get sick halfway through or too sleepy to finish and it's extremely frustrating

(spoiler from the future: guess what happened!!)

I'm hoping I can finish this; we all know how I am about New People

"he's laying on his left side" his right side has been teleported elsewhere

"a child" "no"

and now all I can think of is Latinos Against Spooky Shit

rub some Vicks on a chancla and smack the kid with it one good time and they'll stop seeing ghosts

"a coat" "no"

"travis it's been three minutes"

quick describe it as the ring girl for max travis startle points

I think there was at least one hallucination shot in The Old Man like this

travis: excuse me no thank you

oh I thought it was gonna be the eye thank god

I can handle blood eagle I do not do eye gore

travis: it's fine I'm fine

aw, the bb :(

marisha's wig

oh I know who she looks like, she looks like the pigeon lady from home alone

"the fuck tom cruise shit is this"

I believe this was also a sequence in red dead redemption 2

his art looks like baby chris pine

maybe dacre montgomery

I love his accent

oh fuck I'm now only picturing doctor insano on top of a train

if you understand that reference I'm so sorry

he hits the engine, it explodes and everybody dies, GNC

"I see it coming" is he within ten feet of me

he IS within ten feet of him

"soak that body" that's what she said

brought a pocketwatch to a gun fight

"a knife" "NO"

ZAP ZAP KNIFE

I made one of those in dead island

oh no I love beatrix

not wild about him interrupting what seemed to be player description and not IC dialogue

renegade interrupt, kick avery under the train

robbie?

"the best defense is not opening your fucking mouth in the first place"

that's actually pretty cool

oh no he heat metal'd himself

I'm only picturing the equalist mooks from korra

travis gnc

we're not even an hour in, how much damage is he gonna have them take

yeah I know their own choices and maybe I'm just used to how matt does damage but taking multiple damage types at once feels final boss-y not Multiple Mooks In The Opening Scene

[point-and-click voice] these are chickens!

"there's guns in the chickens!"

bawk bawk motherfucker

MAGIC CHICKENS

throw the glowing chicken like a cucco

"these are going right down my pants"

okay I figured out my problem, it feels like every time they try to do something clever or inventive, they get hit with a truck.

I know mixed success means "success with a cost" but the cost is Too Damn High

well that's a fucking bomb

"first hour down to the bone" I FUCKING WONDER WHY, he risks getting fucking decapitated by a 5

don't fucking do that, they're gonna slam together and - this guy is a bad train driver

everything is fine (lie)

she gets a 5 on the sway roll and takes three brain

#critical role #spoilers #crititag #liveblog #reaction post #candelatag

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blondrichclosetwitch · 2 years ago

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It’s an open invitation to turn you on

This is a time for action because the future's within reach

And I was beginning to lose my grip

But this time, I admit I felt it really start to slip

No, and I can smell her on you everywhere, no, baby, I can not forget And I'm coming for you!!(their punctuation)

And you just keep on getting closer

God is a good defense

The big guns are coming out

And don't let the curtain catch you, cause you've been here before

Do you really think I give a damn what I do after years of just hearing them talking?

“I won't testify, I already fucked up my story.”

For I know that the hypnotized never lie

Do you remember, your President (after my concussion I didn’t know who was president )

Ya don't know what you're up against, no, no way, no how

some 36-part depressing-as-hell Northern drama to be repeated every night for the rest of our lives

I've been sucking it in so long that I'm busting at the seams

Voices are guiding me to the cities by the sea

I'm always talking to you

Each night and day I pray and hope that I might find you

“Saying "It's too late for praying" seems to assert that, God or no God, it's up to people to take full responsibility for what they do - how they behave toward one another and toward their "mother ship" - and deal with the damage they have done (and remain ever capable of doing worse and worse).”

Here comes sunshine

They had all of that time just to change their minds, dear dad I’m sorry

Oh yeah, it’s bad

“But I was greedy, I was vain and I forced her in a closed room…and all I ever meant to do was to keep you.”

How were my eyes so blinded

I’m spinning around in circles

Don't suffocate on your own hate

The number 8

Like pretty Kate has sex ornate; now devastate

Fabricate, emulate, a truth dilate

The youth irate

Well it's 2.35 in the afternoon

It’s all a dream we dreamed one afternoon so long ago

My brain hurts a lot

Secret societies

DirtyFishy

Seems I keep getting this story twisted

Tougher than the rest

The first line of the first song I ever heard her sing was “I know something about love”

But did you ever call my name?

Just by mistake?

I'm not quite sure what we’re supposed to do so I’ve been writing just for you

This chaos is killing me

And from what we've heard you've always been a man of your word

Pops, we love you, love you

Yes, we do

Oh no, you thought we had forgotten? The show is only gettin' started: stand up, sit down, hands up, breakdown

Can you tell me, was it worth it?

Because they’re desperate to entertain*

So you want to be entertained? Please look away (don't look away)

We're not here 'cause we want to entertain

(I heard it was 28,000)

Like a heartbeat drives you mad

With the eyes of a little child she treats me cold, so cruel and violent I cry

The only dead person I spoke of on the podcast besides katie yesterday was michael k Williams (Omar on the wire); all these things that I’ve done is his song.

The kids couldn't hurt Jack

They tried and tried and tried and lied and lied and lied and lied and lied

But they couldn't stop Jack, or the waters lapping and they couldn't prevent Jack from feeling happy

I stared up the wall and he said “I don't know' is not an answer to the question"

You played me, you played me Low, down, dirty, shameful, crazy

But there's got be an opening somewhere here in front of me through this maze of ugliness and greed

Ma, this is my brother

Got a crush on tragedy

Black magick shield frequency

A trance is a spell

And then a lullaby on Broadway could sound like an exile out on Main

Oh when that curtain closes you'll be back in your seat again

My legendary girlfriend

Got my eyes open

Ohhhh that’s why they played the black magick shield, my friends are pretending they’re in The Craft again

From you, I get the story

#today is a 34/16/07

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anika-ann · 2 years ago

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Fought the World (for Your Hand) - S.R.

Type: drabble-ish, post Civil War canon divergence, established relationship

Pairining: (nomad) Steve Rogers x reader Word count: 1600

Summary: Coming back after all that happened isn’t easy. To get pardoned is harder than one might think.

The Accords are being revised and the Avengers are back to business. But some damage cannot be undone.

Warnings: mentions of bad parenting, angst & fluff, allusions to smut (if you squint)

A/N: works as a standalone, but technically is a one big ‘what if’ Sparkles and Steve (Love on the Brain) went through events of Civil War - based on THIS ASK; divider by firefly-graphics 😍; lyrics (shortened) from SYML’s Body

I want to love like a man I’ll build you a home when I can I fought the world for your hand

Coming back isn’t easy.

It isn’t seamless – there are smidges on the canvas of friendship and heroism and tears at the edges - but you are back.

And the story behind your return might make angels weep, or perhaps at least renew your faith in humanity as a whole. Your return seems to stand on the goodness of a human heart and the strength of broad shoulders of the man closest to Atlas the world has ever known.

Steve Rogers and a handful of his friends have been turned into criminals when they refused the Accords, some of them imprisoned – after a parody of a trial – in a federal prison that wasn’t on any map. And yet, broken out of this cage resembling the worst of nightmares, the so-called criminals continued to do good.

Silently. Without seeking recognition; because even bittered, goodness was in their blood.

And people noticed. People spoke up. A tiny law practice from the depth of Hell’s Kitchen helped to voice the concerns about the Accords and about the injustice served.

Defying all laws of the Universe, the governments of the world heard them out.

The Accords are being revised. Meanwhile, you’re all pardoned.

The Earth’s mightiest misfits are together again.

Crimes forgiven, but not forgotten. Some agree with this – some don’t.

You scoff as you wipe away your tears; disappointed, angry, heartbroken.

It’s not fair, but it is what it is. It figures your parents would belong to the latter group.

The prodigal daughter returned and they didn’t give a damn. You guess it serves you right; as long as you were catching serial killers and creeps, as long as you locked up whom everyone perceived as a bad guy, you were theirs.

Once your husband became the criminal, as did you, you were none. Even after the American damn government did the closest thing to admitting a mistake.

It’s not fair but it is what it is.

And still, you weep.

You feel him before you hear him, even if the life on the run taught you paranoia; your body knows his, every inch, tangible or not; his breath, his smell, his soft footsteps. And your brain knows you’re safe with him, as does your heart.

The way the bed dips under his weight. His strong arms, his calloused palms. The warmth of his skin, the scratch of his beard.

He embraces you and you follow, his presence as magnetic as it was long before you confessed your love. Always gravitating closer, never out of reach – inevitability.

Steve Rogers, shoulders as strong as a god itself and with more love for your little life than one, holds you to his chest and lets you soak his chest in tears, gently rocking you back and forth, fingers tender as they caress your back, stark contrast to yours fisting his shirt.

The guilt rolls off him in waves, but he wills those to be gentle as they reach the coast of your sorrowful heart. He swallows his anger at people who should always stand by you, your own blood. You can feel it burning through him, but he doesn’t voice his rage.

He holds you, an unrelenting silent force.

You don’t utter a word either.

Having been ones to talk things through eventually before, you have perfected understanding each other without words during your time on the run. In the motels that never really slept, between drunken shouts, lustful cries and thoughts screaming louder than actual words, silence was a luxury. One that not even Steve's arms could always provide.

But it does work now.

You let it all out, until you have no tears to shed anymore, until the raft of emotions settles at a shore, safely brought back home; a solid home, built from cells, tissue and blood instead of bricks, roofed under a beautiful soul the world tried to tear to shreds so many times.

Steve gently combs your hair back as he feels your breathing change, your tension melt away. Only when you tip your head back, finding the sea of his eyes glassy with an unshed tear or two, he finally speaks.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart."

It makes you sad; and you’re outraged. Yet, you’re in love, still.

A small smile plays in the corner of your mouth as you squint at him, a little playful.

“Don't you give me that face, GG,” you reprimand him softly, causing the worried wrinkle on his forehead to deepen, before his right eyebrow arches.

“What, I cannot be sorry that you're hurting?”

There’s an unhappy note in his teasing. You brush your fingers over his creased forehead, long fingers catching your hand to cradle it gently.

“You, GG, can be anything. Even mine.”

He sighs, gaze tenderer than before, a promise – and he seems to think it is more of a life sentence – on his lips.

“I am. Always. And I am sorry,” he whispers and it would be foolish to doubt the truth behind his words.

You know this.

You understand.

But you don’t fully agree.

People who turn their back on you like your parents did do not deserve to weigh on his already heavy conscience.

“I know. So am I. But I don't blame you. Or me,” you say, swallowing the creak in your voice; because you believe this.

And he has to learn to do the same.

You know he doesn’t yet; but it’s a journey. It’s a journey for you too, because losing your parents to this hurts, god, does it hurt. But you know you’re right.

“I did what I could. Once we were back, I did reach out. They refused. That's on them. I tried, even after they dragged my name – your name – through the mud, spitted on it and even looked like they enjoyed it.”

Anger laces your voice at the injustice, at the betrayal, and you can hear the stitches on Steve’s wounded heart cry with effort to keep the precious muscle together.

The guilt, the pain, the rage – you can read it in his face as it all peaks, but you charm a smile and the barely-there movement of your lips magically makes you feel better, and maybe it helps him too. It definitely feels better when you turn your hand in his and squeeze lightly, thumb running over his scarred knuckles.

He fought so much in his life that not even the serum could handle it anymore.

Maybe the scars that remained were from punching ghosts and mirages, intangible things that didn’t bleed and couldn’t be fully bested when he tried to beat them anyway.

“Sparkles-“

You shake your head to stop him; you’re not done.

You hurting was not the message – you both know that already.

“But bless their heart, they got one thing right,” you continue as he watches you, eyes large pools of sadness and adorable confusion that takes ten years from his real age despite the beard he has been sporting since your days as fugitives.

A large man with a beard and a heart of gold; the original nomad.

“They talked shit, but they never said you led me astray. They blamed my decision on me,” you say slowly, freeing your hand from his to rake your fingers through the tickly beard, fingertips brushing over his lips when you feel him suck in a breath – no, you are still talking. He kisses your fingers tenderly, understanding this; patient. “I went with you and took your side because I was and am yours, yes. But also because it was what I believed in. And I don’t regret it, Steve.”

You see his Adam’s apple bob as his eyes avoid looking into yours, a shudder running through his body; and as a consequence, it does through yours too, because you’re still in his lap, side to chest, face to face, skin to skin. Lover to lover; best friend to best friend, even if Bucky would maybe have a thing or two to say about that.

The thought makes you smile wider as you push slightly against Steve’s jaw to make him meet your gaze.

Because this is important. This is the most important part.

“You're not responsible for my choices. Even if you're one of them,” you whisper and his hands squeeze you tight as his face shines with affection; love renewed, as if it has ever been gone.

And it wasn’t. It just built and built and sometimes you wonder if it can ever grow higher than the Tower of Babel; one that withstands a fury of man and gods alike.

“I love you.”

Simple as that; three little words and yet two of them would be enough. I and you. You and I. Together.

“I love you too,” you say back, fingers moving to sink into his long strands. A handsome man he is, your husband. Complicated, but so simple in his principles. You circle back. “So... you know. Don't give me that face.”

He huffs a silent chuckle when he realizes what you mean – that feeling sorry is okay, but misplaced guilt is not – and his lips find yours, tasting of sunshine, gratitude and adoration.

He kisses you deep. He gives and he takes, and he lays you down on your bed, pouring all his feelings – feelings that seem larger than himself and he is already of impressive size, as you like to remind him – into his lips and hands, to cover you with all the love you deserve.

He cannot fix the mess he made. He never could, as desperately as he wished to.

But he can be here. He can give you his everything; build you a new home, a new family, helping you forget the sorrow of your stolen one. It isn’t exactly a hardship he will undergo unwillingly. Less so when your body melts into his, your affection tangling with his own.

All he can do for you is to be yours.

And he will.

And he will thank every day to whoever is up there that despite all odds, you are his.

Steve Rogers masterlist // Love on The Brain masterlist (if you’re interested in who inspired this dynamics)

It sometimes happens that an ask triggers this, when the stars align... even though I don’t take requests 😅

Thank you for reading 🥰 Feedback is life ✨

#fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #nomad Steve rogers #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers angst #captain america x reader #captain america x you #captain america imagine #fought the world #anika ann

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astroboots · 3 years ago

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SUMMERTIME RAIN

Summary: Santiago, you and Frankie go to the beach to get away from the heatwave in Florida and somehow end up caught in the rain.

Rating: really fucking explicit

Warning: Polyamorous relationship, m/f/m, cum eating, hint of voyeuristic sex, desperate dry humping, indulgent porn without plot, with a garnish of angst for flavoring but coming from me it's really not that bad at all.

Word Count: 4.8k

Homecoming Universe | Astroboot’s Masterlist

There’s a heatwave spreading across Florida that is making all of you miserable. It is a special kind of hell when Florida gets hot. Humid and damp, the heat wraps around Santiago’s limbs like a heavy old blanket that he cannot shake off no matter how many ice cold showers he takes.

It’s Sunday and all three of you are irritable. The AC has broken again. There’s not a single cool spot in the house. You can barely get any work done in the heat. Frankie can’t step a foot into the garage, because the floor is a grilling hot plate. Santiago? Santiago is hot and bored, lying draped across the couch trying to escape the worst of the heat. Santiago’s pretty sure that if he cracked an egg on the cement, it would sizzle and cook within seconds. If he ever takes on another private job, he’s going to make sure it’s in the coldest parts up in the Himalayan mountains.

From across the room, there’s exasperated grumbling, followed by heavy books being slammed down against the surface. Santiago rises to his elbows, to see you standing over the dining table. You’re practically fuming and he can’t tell if it’s because you’re pissed off or just so overheated, or maybe pissed off because you’re overheated.

“I can’t take this, even the table is burning hot.” You’re staring down at the wooden surface like it committed a war crime against your family. “Let’s go to the beach!”

Frankie and him both perk up at the idea. Never mind that the whole of Florida state is probably of the same thought and already flocking to the beach, which is a recipe for crowded misery. Santiago doesn’t care. His brain has been rendered mush by the heat. All he can think of now is the cooling sensation of being submerged in cold ocean water.

The three of you topple into the car, and you blast on the AC as far as it goes, leaning over the panel of the car to get blasted by the cooling air. Overheated as he is, Santiago doesn’t even have the energy to gripe with you about how unfair it is for you to hog the AC. All he can think about is his salvation from the heat once you all reach the ocean water.

And when you get to the beach— God, it is magnificent. It is the mirage of an Oasis that would be seen by a man amid a heat stroke, moments before he dies. The ocean is turquoise blue and sparkling crystal under the Florida sun. It’s glorious.

But of course, because this is fucking Florida. Before he ever has the chance to even dip his toe into the water, grey clouds siege the skies from nowhere. Within seconds, the rain starts pouring down. Not a drizzle. It is pouring torrential rain. Like Florida is working its way up to a monsoon. The rain is whipping down so hard it is punishing. Pelting down and smattering against the skin until it almost bruises—and the three of you decide to give up and go back home. Frankie offers to run to the parking lot to get the car, while Santiago and you take shelter at a nearby bus stop to escape the worst of it.

Not that it does much damage control. The two of you are already drenched from head to toe when you reach the flimsy shelter. Santiago is grumbling to himself, trying to wring the hem of his shirt of water. The wet fabric sticks to him heavily and is so damn uncomfortable.

He looks up to see you peeling off your lacy cardigan. Fuck— your sundress has gone see-through.

It wasn’t exactly a demure dress before. It’s all white cotton that clings onto your curves in all the right places with a flowy skirt line. Every time a breeze flows through it, the fabric flutters around your calves. That motion never fails to make a dormant instinct in him spring to life, making him leap up and want to chase after you. Makes him gain a whole new appreciation for why the idiom for horny men is “skirt chaser”.

The best worst (no best) part of this dress is the neckline. The top pushes your breast up and hugs them so closely it borders on the obscene in all the best ways even under normal circumstances.

Now though, soaked as you are, the wet material clings onto every part of you. The white cotton has gone translucent enough that he gets a peek at the soft flesh underneath in a way that’s near-pornographic.

It hasn’t escaped your attention either, because you look down your chin, horrified, and cross your arms over your chest to cover the worst best of it. And while Santiago wasn’t exactly objecting to the view, he’s also not a hormonal teenager. Your comfort is always going to take priority.

He shrugs off his leather jacket, and swathes it around your shoulders, then wraps his arms around your torso from behind.

“Better?” he asks, and you hum happily as you lean back into his chest, resting all your weight on him.

“Much better. Thank you. It’ll stop the creep at the bus stop from staring at my tits.”

You say it so casually that for a second Santiago whips his head around to look for the offender, but it’s just you and him here. It’s not until he hears you laughing that he realizes he’s the supposed creep.

He smiles, burying his nose into your hair. “Can’t blame him though, they’re gorgeous.”

Santiago never used to stare at your breasts. In all the years he’s known you he’s never stared at you in that way at all for that matter. It’s something he never allowed himself to even begin to think. Anything romantic and sex-related was sectioned and compartmentalized in a drawer to be filed away in the back of a storage room that he never touched. Because you’re his best friend, and he didn’t want to unleash Pandora’s box of horrors that is Santiago Garcia as a romantic partner on you.

Couldn’t risk losing you when he eventually fucked it all up, the way he always did. But somehow he’s here, unable to keep himself away after all these years of running away to the ends of the earth. He spends every night in your bed, with you and Frankie draped across him until he’s fast asleep. And he hasn’t left this time. Hasn’t fucked it up yet

You smell of soft worn leather, his cologne, and your shampoo all mixed in and blended with the rain. Despite the clammy cold of rain seeping through the fabric into his skin, it warms him inside out with something that he doesn’t dare to look at too closely. How all these things amount to the one thing he’s never wanted to let himself think too loudly about you and Frankie: Mine.

From this angle, he can still see the lacey hemline of your dress peeking underneath his leather jacket. Fingering the side of his jacket, he draws it apart. He can see your nipples through the thin material of your dress, drawn up tight with the chill, and some-fucking-how it’s even sexier than when you’re naked.

He’s fully expecting a playful rebuke from you, but instead, you cant your hips, pressing back against the front of his pants, and shit. Santiago damn near doubles over with the spike of lust that shoots through his gut. His dick gets hard so fast it’s fucking embarrassing, full mast and aching in seconds. Despite the cold damp saturating his clothes, this might be the first time he’s managed to compete with Frankie in that department.

From around the corner, he can hear tires sloshing against the parking lot asphalt. The familiar sight of Frankie’s well-loved truck comes into view, stopping a few steps away from you. Close enough that you wouldn’t have to go through the rain.

Stepping quickly to the truck, you throw open the car door, climbing in and Santiago follows closely behind.

He can see Frankie's eyes shift from the road to the rear mirror. The dark rings in his brown eyes widen at the sight of your white dress. Santiago chuckles at that. At least he’s not the only one looking. Unlike Santiago though, Frankie isn’t in a proximity to do anything about it. Instead, he snaps out of it after a brief moment and continues to drive the car into the road.

The warm air inside the car is a welcome reprieve. The two of you are freezing and goosebumps are prickling your flesh. Your hands are rubbing up and down your arms like you are gathering friction to kindle a fire under your skin. It makes your whole body shake with it accompanied by the soft bounce of your breasts as if they’re ready to spill from the hemline of your dress at any moment.

You catch Santiago staring, and stop your movements as a small smile blooms on your face.

“What?” you ask. It’s not accusatory, it’s welcoming and playful like you want him to look.

And fuck does Santiago want to look, shit, he wants to do a lot more than just look. Unsnapping his seat buckle, he reaches across the seat. Santiago leans in, dragging his lips across the pillowy flesh of your chest while burying his nose into your neck. He inhales the clean, wet scent of you. You’re warm and soft under his mouth, all keen and wanting as you gasp at his touch in a way that shoots straight to his dick.

He can see Frankie’s eyes flicker from the road to the two of you through the rear mirror. His hands are gripping tightly to the steering wheel, fingers flexing and creaking around the tight leather. The man is struggling to keep his concentration on the road. Santiago almost wants to keep going for Frankie’s benefit alone. Wants to give Frankie a little show that Santiago knows the man loves. But in all honesty, Santiago knows this is hardly something selfless, he’s doing this primarily for his benefit.

He wants this.

Wants you.

If he’s honest with himself, he knows now— he always has.

He closes his eyes against the thought of how this is all bound to go wrong. How it will one day end up with him back off in Colombia or some other nameless place alone, because he's always been shit at romantic relationships. There is a slight hitch in your breath as his palms skims your breasts over the cold and wet fabric. Fingertips smoothening over the wrinkled cotton until the pad of his thumb scrape over your taut nipples. Rubbing and pressing and plucking at your nipples through the material until you’re moaning.

The gorgeous sound has him hungry and ravenous and he lets himself lean into the hunger. Consumes and takes as much as he can, while he can. There’s a part of him that truly believes that one of these days he’ll wake up staring at the ceiling of a rundown motel room and can never come back here.

One morning where he wouldn’t just be waking up to a world where the two of you would go back to just being friends, no it’s far too late for that. The second he’d followed the two of you up the stairs from breakfast, he’s already crossed that threshold of no return. And as perfect as all of this is, this domestic life he gets to share with you and Frankie, that gnawing terror never goes away completely. It still festers, the knowledge that one of these days he's gonna fuck it up somehow.

One of these days, he’s sure of it, he’s going to fuck up so badly that he’s going to wake up to a world where you are no longer even friends. A world where you and Frankie don't speak his name, and pretend he never existed in your lives to begin with.

So he’ll take what he can, as long as you two will have him.

Clicking your seatbelt, he pulls you into his lap, hooking one of your legs over him. Then Santiago yanks the top of your dress down far enough to get his mouth on the soft swell of your breast underneath. He kisses and sucks at the smooth flesh desperately, nearly frantic with his need to touch and feel and kiss every bit of you he can reach.

He’s so worked up, he doesn’t need much. Just being this close, feeling the thrum of your pulse on your throat underneath his mouth, nearly has him losing his mind with it. And thank God for that, because in this cramped space, there isn’t much space for the two of you to maneuver yourselves while the car is still in motion. All you can give him is that delicious grind of your lower body pressing down against his cock, trapped as it is in his pants.

But it’s still good. Fuck, it’s better than good, it’s heaven. Santiago is pretty sure he can come like this.

The car comes to a stop and before Santiago or you have a chance to look up and ask Frankie what’s wrong, the driver seat flings open. Frankie lunges out of the car with the door slamming shut behind him.

Santiago grins— guess Frankie’s patience finally ran out.

The rain is whipping against the windows on all sides. Santiago can barely see anything outside for how hard it’s coming down, just a blurry silhouette of Frankie’s broadness passing the window.

There’s a metallic thunk, then the car door closest to you hurls wide open. Frankie’s standing in the pouring rain, climbing knee-first into the car seat. In the split second before the door slams shut, Santiago can make out past Frankie that the car’s been stopped on the side of a smaller secluded road, affording the three of you some modicum of privacy. Santiago is a bit impressed with that. Even in his horny addled state, Frankie had the foresight to minimize the risk of being interrupted by voyeuristic strangers.

In the small space, Frankie’s build seems so much larger and more intimidating than Santiago’s used to in the broad daylight. His wide shoulders and broad arms fill the cramped space as he reaches over for you. It’s a good look on Frankie, his curls are wet, water dripping down and trailing down his cheek and bare throat. Dark heat clouds those normally warm and kind eyes of his, turning them into something sharp and untamed that thrills Santiago.

Frankie’s practically lunging across the seat to pull you into a kiss. He tips your head backward, cradling your jaw in one big hand that spans from the tip of your ear to the edge of your chin.

Not one to be left out, Santiago slides his hand down your ribs and over your chest, mouth paying unceasing attention to the side of your throat as he makes sure to bite down hard enough to make you moan wantonly into your husband’s mouth.

And fuck, Santiago can see the flex of Frankie’s jaw as he kisses you slow and deep. From where Santiago’s left hand is trapped between the two of you, between your back and Frankie’s chest, he can feel Frankie’s groan as it rumbles against his palm. It's so fucking hot that Santiago thinks he’s going to go insane.

That infamous patience that Frankie is known for seems to run thin though. He can hear Frankie grumbling as he simultaneously tries to pull you into his lap while not trying to hit his head, and is unsuccessful on both counts. As big as the backseat of Frankie’s truck is, it’s still too small for you to perform acrobatic tricks and Santiago isn’t exactly helping when he refuses to let go of you.

But that doesn’t deter Frankie in the slightest. He tries again, hooking his arms under your thighs, then lifting you. This time he manages to rearrange you until you’re sitting in Frankie’s lap with his chest pressed to your back, hooking his jaw against your shoulder to keep you in place.

With you covering the man’s lap, Santiago doesn’t have the best view of the action. But he can hear the familiar metallic clink of Frankie’s buckle and the stuttered rasp of his zipper. That sound alone has Santiago’s cock aching from where it’s trapped underneath the constricting denim of his jeans.

Frankie’s hurried and almost frenzied in his movement as he struggles to get his pants off. Gritting out a swear through his bared teeth, he fumbles with the wet fabric of his jeans trying to get his cock out. It’s a comical sight and the humor of it isn’t lost on you either as you’re practically wheezing with laughter at how incredibly clumsy all of this is.

You try to stop, pressing your lips tightly together, but unable to hold in the laughter, and for a moment, Santiago pauses to take you in; how pretty you look when your eyes are crinkled with amusement. It lights up the car with it, the soft ripples of your breast as your whole body’s shaking with laughter.

Then, Frankie finally manages to get his dick free and lines himself up against you from behind. Your laughter dies in your throat as he’s pushing inside. That amused expression melts into pure bliss and your eyes squeeze shut with concentration as you try to take all of Frankie.

Santiago’s brain has stalled. All he can do is take in the scene unfolding before him. How Frankie’s cock glistens with your slick as he bucks up his hips to thrust deeper inside you. Frankie’s rougher than usual, his large hands gripping hard around your thighs, as he holds you open and spreads you for him.

Your breasts bounce with each deep stroke, straining against the wet fabric and it’s a miracle the seams haven’t torn. It’s titillating and the sight of it punches the breath out of his lungs. Santiago doesn’t know what’s wrong with him. It’s not like he’s never seen your breasts before. Shit, he’s been eyeing up the way they look in your sundress all afternoon. But he’s never seen them like this.

“Fuck baby, so good, your tight perfect pussy feels so fucking good on my cock right now.”

Fucking God, those gasps and little pleading noises of yours, coupled with Frankie’s mumbled praise go straight to Santiago’s already overeager dick.

His hips hitch up involuntarily in a desperate search for any sort of friction, and he gasps at the pressure of his cock shifting against the fabric of his pants. Fuck. Shit, what the fuck? He feels like he’s already on the edge of coming, just from this.

The desperate noise he’s making has Frankie looking up at him from over your shoulder. He flashes Santiago that dark, sharp smile, the one that is reserved just for Santiago. “You need a little help with that?”

Santiago can’t even answer him. There are no sharp wits or retorts ready on his tongue because it’s been tied into knots in his mouth. All he is capable of is thickly swallowing for air as he keeps his glazed eyes on you.

“Baby why don’t you help Pope,” Frankie murmurs into your ear, and Santiago doesn’t miss the hint of glee in his tone at having the overhand, at having reduced Santiago to this brain dumb state.

When you call out to him, your voice is breathless and keen and it has warm shivers run down his back. Your hand stretches out in an inviting gesture, voice soft and slurred, “c’mere honey.”

It’s what finally makes his brain kick back into gear. Santiago shuffles over to you as your thumb fumbles with the rivet of his jeans. It slips on the first try, and fuck, he doesn’t have the patience for this. Grabbing your hand in his, he presses your palm over the hardened bulge and grinds into it. He’s rewarded with white blinding heat and electric pleasure that spears his stomach, and fuck, that’s good, that’ll have to do.

His hips draw up, bucking up into your touch, eyes locked on the way your gorgeous tits bounce. He’s barely even registering the steady stream of expletives that he’s groaning out. With his hand wrapped around yours, he pushes it down for more pressure, making the sticky fabric grind uncomfortably. The friction is coarse, wet, and heavy against the sensitive head of his dick, but it’s still so damn good.

His stomach draws in tight, and he doesn’t realize what’s happening until it’s altogether too late as his cock pulses and a warm heat spreads across his back, drawing in tight over his spine.

“Fuck, Boa, waitwait, I—”

Searing hot cum spills inside his jeans. He moans desperately, shoving his face into your chest for escape. There’s a rush of heat that spreads all over him, it pours and pours until he’s lightheaded and everything inside him threatens to burst before it is replaced by rushes of electricity that skitters along his spine then settles over his back. Everything goes soothingly quiet except for a pleasant buzz humming between his ears, and your fingers running through his hair.

When he comes back to himself, the first thing he sees when his vision sharpens into focus is your large, wide eyes looking back at him. He can’t quite read the expression on your face. Shock? Confusion? God knows because he’s a bit of both himself. Then slowly it occurs to him that Frankie’s looking at him too.

Both of you have stopped, just staring down at Santiago with pure shock and something akin to amused surprise.

You shoot him a teasing smile. “You alright there honey?”

“Did you—?” Frankie starts, and even without glancing at the mirror in the car, Santiago is pretty sure from the heat prickling his face that he’s gone beet red.

“Must have liked what you saw, you barely even got to second base before you finished,” Frankie quips.

The two of you are such fucking comedians about it.

“Fuck you, Frank.”

Frankie bursts into rumbling laughter, unable to hold back and you quickly follow until it’s a chorus of good-humored laughter and giggles in the car. For as much as Santiago’s sheepish and embarrassed at it, he can’t help shaking his head, laughing too.

“Yeah yeah, laugh it up assholes. Like Mr. Eager Beaver over there has never blown his load too early,” Santiago retorts.

As if on cue, Frankie’s big hands come to your front, cupping your tits and pressing them together. It’s such a goddamned sight, Santiago damn near whines as his dick twitches in a valiant attempt to get hard for you again.

Maybe it’s Santiago’s pride that refuses to take these loving insults lying down, especially when the two of you are smiling so widely. Maybe it’s the way he can still see the base of Frankie’s cock nestled inside of you underneath the skirt of your dress. But what is an absolute certainty is that if he’s gonna be coming faster than he had planned for, he’s gonna make sure that the two of you are going to follow closely behind.

Sliding down the seat, Santiago’s knee digs into the sharp plastic of the floor in front of you. It’s a dumb decision considering his fucked up knees. There’s not a lot of room, but he still manages to elbow his way between your thighs, spreading your legs open with his shoulders before tossing the hem of the skirt up. Ducking his head under the bottom of your dress, he noses along the line of your inner thigh as they are pressed feverishly warm against his cheeks. He presses a kiss there before he parts his lips to mouth at the place you’re joined with Frankie. The contact makes you arch up with a sharp hiss and his name spilling from your lips.

Frankie still isn’t moving, and while Santiago can’t see the man’s expression he can guess that it’s a stunned one with Frankie completely paused out. Skimming his hand along Frankie’s thigh, he slaps at it, hard, until Frankie yelps in surprise. “What’s taking so long Frank, you gonna fuck her or not?”

There’s an irritated grunt from Frankie, but he still does as he’s told. His hips cants, lifting from the seat as his cock disappears into your perfect little cunt only to reappear again.

Santiago smile, dragging his lips upwards, until he brushes up against your clit relishing at how you buck into his mouth at the barely-there touch. Teasing your clit between his lips, he sucks on it with a slobbery kiss until he can hear you whining and crying. Then, he pulls back to admire his work.

The glistening thickness of Frankie’s girthy cock is dripping with your slick and Santiago's saliva. He wets his fingers between his lips before rubbing them over your swollen clit. Fuck, it’s so slick. Wet and dripping like honey for him.

There’s a sharp cry spilling from you as your back arches like a strung bow towards his touch.

“Fuck, fuck, Santi—aaaaaah, shit” before you can even finish stuttering out his name, Frankie thrusts up into you, long and hard.

There’s something oddly satisfying to Santiago that even with your husband’s cock inside you, as you’re nearing your orgasm, you’re still calling out for him.

“What is it, sweetheart? Need my mouth? Want me to lick that pretty pussy until you come all over Francisco’s cock?”

He doesn’t wait for your answer, latching his mouth back on your dripping pussy. There’s no finesse to it. He’s tonguing and laving at whatever part of you he can reach. It’s almost clumsy and so incredibly sloppy. Santiago can’t quite manage the control he would usually like to have in this small space, all he can do is keep licking and sucking at your clit while Frankie fucks up and into you from underneath.

But if your keen whines and the way your fingers are threading into his hair are anything to go by, you don’t mind the slightest.

A much broader hand than yours comes to rest on Santiago’s shoulder. Frankie’s hand squeezes down hard as if he’s hanging onto Santiago for dear life. It tells Santiago he has the man right where he wants him. Poor Frankie’s probably seconds away from coming.

“You gonna make our girl come, Frank?

There are no words in reply, just a deep guttural groan from Frankie, as his hips stutter into you. Santiago can’t see, but he can feel the frantic thrusts as Frankie’s hips lift and fall back down against the seat, fucking into you with growing urgency. There is no coordination to it anymore. And as always, Santiago can never resist making things just a little bit worse for Frankie. His mouth slides down until the flatness of his tongue is lapping at the hardness of Frankie’s thick girth where it joins you, and Frankie is whimpering. Fuck, that’s the most satisfying thing ever.

It doesn’t take long at all, a handful of thrust and a high-pitched whine from you that tells Santiago you’re coming, and it’s joined by Frankie’s strangled sob. Frankie’s thrust pushes all the way inside until he’s buried to the root and then he stays there. Santiago gets an up and close view of Frankie’s cock pulsing and throbbing, while his tongue is still pressed up against the length, as your cunt flutters and spasms around it with your orgasm. It’s absolutely fucking depraved.

You and Frankie are both quivering messes in the aftermath of your orgasms. Twitching at every tiny lick and kiss that Santiago presses to your pussy. It makes you squeeze around Frankie until he properly whines at the overstimulation. And even then, Santiago is adamant to expend a bit more attention with his tongue before he finally gives into your fingers pulling at his curls to get him to stop.

Drawing away, he pushes himself up on his knees to climb back into the seat, letting you pull him closer to you by the back of his neck.

His head dips down to close the distance between you, pressing his lips to yours, then he shifts until he has one of his legs nestled snugly between yours, the other pressing firmly against the outside of your thigh, needing the contact between you. Needs to have every inch of him touching you.

In his haze, he distantly registers the warmth of calloused fingers catching against the inside of his wrist. It’s far too rough to be yours. Dragging his heavy-lidded eyes downwards, he catches Frankie weaving their hands together and Santiago closes his eyes, squeezing back at Frankie’s hand.

Maybe in a few years from now, he’ll inevitably fuck up with you two. Maybe he’ll never get to have this again. But there’s a part of him that selfishly thinks that when he wakes up in a room somewhere in the middle of nowhere, all by himself, he’ll remember this moment and not regret a thing.

As his breathing calms, he realizes that the car is deafeningly quiet. There’s no sound of rain hitting against the glass pane. Looking out the window, Santiago sees why. It’s no longer raining. The windshield is clear as well. While the pouring rain may have shielded the three of you from curious onlookers, that might not be the case for much longer. But thank God there didn’t seem to be any passing cars at the moment cause his knees feel like gelatine and he doesn’t think he can move right now.

Frankie is already reaching over for a dry shirt in the back of his car to cover you with, draping the soft flannel over your shoulders. There’s a twinge of disappointment in Santiago when Frankie covers you up.

You catch what must be a rather mournful expression on his face because you immediately break into a bright and wide smile filled with amusement. Fingers draw down the sides of the shirt until it unravels the gorgeous swell of your breast again.

Leaning forward, he mouths at the softness of it. It’s nothing like the frantic pacing of before, just a soft brush of his lips where the plump flesh spills over your hemline.

When he hears the pleasant sound of your soft, exhausted laughter, his chest tightens and drips with something syrupy warm. His nose nuzzles further into you, unwilling to let this moment end just yet. He wants to stay for so much longer.

You hum, head tilting to look behind Santiago.

“The weather is fine now, we can always drive back to the beach.”

Santiago turns to follow your gaze. From the outside, it's sunshine and crystalline blue clear sky with not a cloud in sight.

Fucking Florida.

Credits and Dedications:

@thirstworldproblemss my one and my only, for always being one of my favorite people on this platform and on this blue planet. For the amazing time we've had plotting our own destruction the past week, for keeping me company in my wip documents. For always putting a smile on my face through good times and bad times and thank god that this week it's been a good one for the first time in a very long time.

#oscar isaac #pedro pascal #santiago garcia x reader x frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #santiago garcia x reader #francisco morales x reader #frankie morales x reader x santiago garcia #francisco morales x you #santiago garcia x you #triple frontier #triple frontier fic #triple frontier fanfic #santiago garcia #frankie morales #cici writes #santiago pope garcia #francisco catfish morales

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finelinevogue · 3 years ago

Note

I am *respectfully* begging for a oneshot based off the song Champagne Problems by Taylor Swift🥺

okay let’s have a bit of fun with this mwhaha;

The moon was at full peak.

She was sat in the black canvas of a starry sky, shining down on the party below or at least so you thought she was. The flute glasses glowed under her brightness and bubbled with happiness. The pool was reflecting her image so beautifully. Everyone looked amazing in their gorgeous evening outfits of silk and lace, Gucci and Prada, chatting and laughing away as the night was close to striking midnight.

“Such a lovely party, Y/N.” Another guest thanked you, you not having the faintest idea of who they were.

You and Harry were hosting a dinner party in the back garden of his Malibu palace to celebrate his recent success over this past year. He’d had movie after movie, along with an album and a tour. He had done exceptionally well for himself, so he wanted to throw the most lavish party to celebrate with his friends and family that had helped him through it all. You had been in charge of organising food and a live band, Harry in charge of the guest list, Mitch in charge of decorations - bu really it had been Sarah - and Gemma in charge of the drinks; specifically champagne.

“I’m glad.” You smiled, as you poured yourself another glass of the bubbles. You felt the warmth of someones hand slide onto your exposed back, making you shiver with temptation and love.

“Have I told you just how beautiful you look this evening?” Harry spoke softly against your ear, kissing over the skin where his words had touched you.

He had been showing you off all night, always introducing you as ‘my beautiful girlfriend’ and keeping you close to him whenever he could. He would pull out his wallet and show people the picture he kept of you in there. It was one he’d taken of you laughing as you ran away from him on the beach. Even though the photo was black and white it was obvious how happy you were. He loved having you near and whenever someone said that they hadn’t seen you yet, he knew to go straight to the desserts table and find you shovelling yet another chocolate coated strawberry into your mouth not-so-gracefully.

“You have, but I won’t stop you if you want to do it again.” You replied, quite enjoying the flattering compliments. You’d dressed yourself in a silky evening gown that was in a deep red colour and Harry was having a hard time keeping his hands off of you. The front was v-cut, with the back completely open too, so it left your skin exposed for Harry to treat himself to. You turned around in his hold and pushed your body into his, making him hum in appreciation.

“I can’t stop thinking how much I want to kiss you.” He looked at your lips as he spoke, wanting to stain his own lips with the bold colour you’d painted on yours. You were so delicious and he wanted to devour every inch of you.

“Well what’s stopping you?” You reached a hand up to scrunch his curls under your fingers, the bracelets on your arm sliding down and jingling with another.

“Meet me upstairs in 5 minutes.” He replied, making you furrow your eyebrows in curiosity of what he was playing at.

“Should I ask why?”

“You shouldn’t, I don’t want to answer when my mum is standing just across the room.” He made you both chuckle, before leaning back from you to give you a quick once over. “Wow.” He breathed out, the biggest grin to his face. “5 minutes.”

And then he was gone.

You bit your lip as he rushed straight over to his mum and sister, who were both eagerly smiling at him. You couldn’t help but fall in love with him a little more at the sight. He was so innocent and full of love and happiness, you were so in awe of him and his beautiful qualities.

You did a quick scour of the room, making sure there were no unhappy faces, before heading in the direction of the bathroom to freshen up before visiting Harry. As you walked up the stairs you noticed a conversation between one of Harry’s cousins and one of his American friends, it sounded quite argumentative so you went to make sure everything was alright.

“You both okay?” You asked sweetly, your heels clicking on the floor as you approached them.

“God you’re just everywhere aren’t you?” The friend laughed, but you could tell she wasn’t laughing for a joke.

“I’m sorry?” You asked shocked at her tone, wondering what the problem was here.

“You’re so up in everyone else’s business always.”

“I don’t understand—”

“No of course you don’t. God, I understand why Harry finds you so annoying and clingy.”

“Kia—” The cousin gasped in shock of Kia’s words.

“No, you know i’m right Rachel just be quiet.” Kia shushed Rachel and brought her attention back to you.

“Harry thinks i’m clingy?” You asked, trying to understand what was really going on.

“That amongst lots of other things.”

“He would never. He loves me.” Your argued, slight tears in your eyes from letting her get to you like this. It was different than tabloids because you were actually hearing it from someone’s mouth, rather than an edited and faceless article. It stung so much more.

“And? Did you really think he would ever stick around for someone like you?” Kia laughed and then walked off, strutting her and her perfect body away from you and back to the main party area. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, trying to understand what her words truly meant to you.

“Y/N…” Rachel tried to console you, but you didn’t want her. You wanted Harry and yet now you didn’t.

“Do you think all that too?” You asked quietly, scared to hear an answer. You got your answer though when she spoke nothing and tilted her head down in shame. You understood. “Okay, thank you.” You quietly said and tried your best to smile, but you knew it didn’t reach your eyes.

You started walking towards the stairs, thinking what this all meant. You always had a back thought that Harry was too good for you, but you just never let yourself be put in the position to think upon that thought. Now though. Now, you were thinking.

Of course you would be naive enough to think that your happily ever after would be with the one man who’s heart could be taken by every other woman on the planet. Even your university teacher had once talked about having a crush on him and he had only been 21 at the time. You never thought here, when he was 27, would you possibly be the one to hold his heart. You did, though, but it wouldn’t be forever - Kia was right, Rachel was right. Everyone knew, but you were just too blinded by his love for you right now to think that it will just wilt away in the future. You were a rose, beautiful and in it’s prime as it flourished on the love it was fed, but after time when even the smallest amounts of love are forgotten to be given the rose wilts and so dies. It’s forgotten about in turn and left to degrade itself into oblivion.

You walked the stairs slowly, completely numb to your core. How could all of 5 minutes turn your emotions 180° and permanently? Your brain ran over the thoughts and little moments that you should’ve picked up on before. Like, when Harry forgot your anniversary and blowing it off that he had been at some work-do but he’d really been at Karlie Kloss’ birthday party. Like, when Harry stopped sending you postcards when he was on tour. Like, when he did that heart-rate test and saw a picture of Camille, looking utterly stunning, on the Victoria Secret runway his heart beat was incredibly high. Is that what he wanted 30 years from now? A model? Someone who was in the same business as him and could understand. You tried to, you really did, but it was starting to feel like maybe you weren’t to be enough.

Making your way down the hallway this way, you couldn’t help but feel like it was for the last time. There was this gut feeling that whatever Harry wanted you for, was going to make sure you were both reminded why you couldn’t be together.

“Damn. You’re a vision.” Harry whistled and you then spotted him at the end of the hallway, the moon shining in through the window and lighting him up like the pure angel he was. You weren’t worthy of his heart. You could only chuckle, not having the passion to make a flirty comment back. Not anymore.

“Listen Harry—” “Okay I have to ask you—” You both talked at the same time, bringing only a nervous chuckle to your face.

“You first.” He offered.

“No, you.” You offered back and he took it.

“Okay, alright.” He breathed in heavily. “You’re so beautiful.” He started, making you blush a little but it was dim up here so you weren’t worried about him noticing. Hopefully he didn’t see the sadness in your eyes either.

“Thank you.” You replied humbly.

“And I want to be able to wake up and tell you that every single day—”

“Harry…” You cut him off, your heart having just dropped so low to the floor.

“Yes?”

“Is this…”

“If you let me continue, yes.” He laughed, thinking that you were happy for him to continue. He was about to, but you cut him off.

“Don’t.” You said, a shake in your voice that was very apparent.

“Don’t— what?” He asked confused, stepping closer to you and only for you to step back. He stopped when he noticed that he would not be able to make distance to you, furrowing his eyebrows and looking hurt. Really hurt. Pain that you and you alone were causing him.

“Don’t ask me the question I think you’re about to.” You held of your hand to both stop him coming closer and to stop him talking. “Just don’t.”

“Baby… what?” Harry asked confused, tears visible in his eyes now. He just wanted to be near you and understand.

“Harry… Don’t make me say it.” You warned him.

“Say what?”

“Harry…”

“Y/N, say what?”

“No!” You shouted, loud enough that people downstairs might’ve heard. “No, Harry. No. I won’t marry you.” You started to cry and let the tears fall freely. You deserved to feel like your heart had been ripped from your chest, the same way you deserved to cry forever. You deserved nothing but pain to repay the damage you’d caused Harry.

“Wha—” He started, but you were too selfish to stick around and watch him crumble. You shot off down the hallway and down the stairs, making your way to the front door. Luckily you didn’t have to go through the masses of people to face the disappointing faces. Luckily no one had to see your cries, except Kia. She was stood by the front door, holding out your coat already as if she were waiting for you.

“Kia what—”

“You thought this evening was for Harry? No. It was for you.” She shoved your coat to you, making you stumble back from the force.

“What?”

“This was your surprise engagement party, with the surprise being the fucking engagement. Everyone knew about it apart from you. He had this plan of asking you and then coming downstairs to everyone yelling surprise. Seems like you fucked that up though.” She sneered at you and your sobs fell from your throat harder than before, your makeup ruining the prettiness of your face as it ran from all the salty tears.

“But you…”

“I what? Said a bunch of bullshit? I was only saying things you’ve heard a million times before. I was making sure you were the right person for our Harry. Seems like you’re far from it.” She chuckled, shaking her head in disappointment at you.

“You’re cruel.”

“No, Y/N, you are. You just did the one thing that I would’ve never done; break Harry’s heart.” She looked at you in disgust before opening the door for you. You gave her one last look, hate in her eyes for you, before you walked outside with the door slamming forcefully behind you. Your heart being left besides Harry’s broken one.

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