#instead of all the other places it was gonna go

[do-you-have-a-flag]

Text recounting of the full events below but oh my god please watch this person explain the wildest thing happening to them

[image text]r/trueoffmychest post by CptnSpaceCase

Today my aide cooked what should not be cooked

I have to get this out, because today feels like an actual nightmare I keep expecting to wake up from.

I'm disabled, and need help with stuff around the house. Today was the second day with a new agency and new home health aide, "Tina." I set it up so she would come by in the morning while I'm sleeping (insomnia is killer), and I texted her last night what I would need done today.

One of those things was to roast some precut squash I'd gotten so I could have it with my salads and pasta. I was very clear in my instructions: what it looked like, where it was in the fridge, how to use the oven, how to cook it. I also have a roommate who was up and told her she could ask them for help if she couldn't find anything. Or come get me if truly necessary.

Now, I have three pet ball pythons. They eat rats that I thaw from frozen in the fridge in a reusable plastic bag. Yes, that's where I'm going with this.

Tina couldn't find the squash, and so, obviously, that meant she should roast the first other thing she could see that was technically also encased in plastic, in a completely different area of the fridge. The FUCKING RATS. In butter and salt, in my nice baking dish.

And like, that's insane all on its own, but if you're going to cook any animal, you should at least clean and skin it first, right??? Like, do the crazy, disgusting thing properly so I can respect the effort, instead of sticking them in as is. Fur and guts and all.

And the smell. Good God baby Jesus the SMELL. It woke me up and had me gagging the moment I opened my bedroom door. Definitely not squash. Or food-smelling for that matter. At first I thought the squash had spontaneously rotted overnight and she'd tried to cook it anyway. That would have been slightly less insane and much preferable.

I had to pull it out of her what she was cooking instead when she said she couldn't find it (it was in plain sight), had to open the oven and see my snakes' dinners in place of my own and still couldn't process what the fuck was happening, what I was looking at and smelling. I don't like yelling at people and generally avoid it. Today was a day for exceptions. And at the end of my half-crazed, dissociative rant, I told her to get the whole dish and its contents and herself out of the fucking house. And to not come back.

Suffice to say, I've contacted the agency to report it and am requesting a new aide. Now I'm sitting at a cafe trying to calm down and eat something despite the scent memory that's taken up permanent residence and turning my stomach. The whole house reeks like musty, sewage-dipped pork that had been left out for a whole day before being cooked in rancid oil, and I'm not sure Febreeze is gonna cut it. I don't want to go home. 🫠😭

[yeyinde]

kinda enamoured with the thought of our poor mc going to a dud of party but meeting Kyle and Johnny there (both looking as out of place as you feel) but instead of taking you home, they bring you back to Price and Ghost. a sweet little treat for them all to share.

and they're charming, of course. too charming. but alcohol numbs most of your inhibitions about how touchy they are. how physical. folding themselves into your space, leaning down to whisper in your ear when you can hear them just fine. hands on the small on your back. around your wrist. your waist. knuckles against your cheek—

god, you're such a pretty little thing, aren't you?

warm skin. breath that smells of thick, sweet cream and oaky black tea. hands curling under the hem of your shirt—shush, shush, doe, ahm jus' helpin' ye; yer hot, ain't ye? lemme help ye out o'yer jumper—thick, sunkissed fingers dancing over your skin.

you feel funny, you slur into his—Kyle, he huffs, grinning wide; wolfish: call me Kyle, sweet thing—neck, chasing the scent of spiced vanilla and wild, ripened plums. everything is spinning. spinning—

"god, he's gonna just love you—"

but they'll take you somewhere. home. you nod, nose tucked tight against his warm, steady pulse. "wanna go home—" you mumble into salt-tinged skin, and they laugh.

"oh, don't worry, beautiful. we'll get you right where you need to be."

you trust them, of course. let them usher you into their car, curled up against a broad, warm chest. lulled under a blanket of security wrapped tight in strong, firm arms. and if his hand wanders, fingers tickling the insides of your thighs. well—

you can't deny they're attractive. maybe you can get their number after and call them in the morning.

but that doesn't happen.

you wake to the sound of voices. hands sliding under your knees, around your shoulder. carried into a house that isn't your own—some strange cabin deep in the forest. the glow of the wood stove in the only light on inside, and you struggle to adjust to the thick orange haze.

"what's going on?" you ask, blinking at the sight that greets your liquid eyes.

Kyle places you down on a rug, holding your hips tight when you fumble. laughing, just a little, under his breath when you gasp.

sitting in an old, wooden chair is a man you've never seen before. big, broad. intimidating. his thick legs spread lazily—one kicked out against the rug, the other bent at the knee. and elbow rests on it. in his hand, a lit cigar. the other dangles, loose and lax, off the armrest. fingers curling, unfurling, into spasmic fists.

his eyes burn caeruleum in the flickering gold.

you fight back a shiver, but feel it slide like hot oil down your spine.

"what—?"

"my boys didn't explain it to you?" he asks, voice a rough, abrasive scratch in your head. gritty. porous. you feel it against your skin. fingers digging into your nape. bad girl. there's something about him that commands attention, and you give it easily as he tuts, pale lips pulling into a condescending sneer beneath the thick of his beard. "or maybe you just weren't payin' attention, sweetheart."

"attention to what—" sir almost trembles out. his lips twitch like he heard all the same. "i just want to go home—"

the hand dangling over the ledge flares to life. he flicks it careless around the room with a hum. "you are home."

"my real home—"

and then you see it.

he moves like liquid through the shadows. folds himself into the dark like its where he belongs. and you thought—and still very much do—the man sitting on his throne was large, intimidating, but it pales at the absurd height of this thing that slinks out of the corner with a heavy, laden gaze. powdered charcoal. endlessly black. flat, though. amused.

when he speaks, it's all brass. "what's this? Johnny brought 'ome a stray?"

"nah," you hear Kyle's grin. feel the phantom shift of sharp teeth against your neck. breathless laugher. warm hands. baby, you feel so good. "we found 'er in a club. lost little lamb."

"and you dragged her back to the wolf's den, mm?"

"you complainin', cap?"

it takes all of your willpower to tear your eyes off the man, but you manage. ripping them away until you find him—Price—again. he stares back with a lidded, heavy gaze. unflinching. hungry.

"not in the slightest."

Kyle purrs. "Johnny couldn't keep his hands off her, sir. might have some competition for who goes first."

cold air on your nape. dread bubbles up in your belly. "no—"

they continue like you hadn't spoken. like you don't exist. the man in the corner folds his thick arms over his broad chest, shaking his head a chainsaw-like grunt. laughter, you think.

but Price doesn't seem to find it nearly as funny. his teeth sink into the butt of the cigar with a growl. "gonna fight me for first, Sargeant?"

Johnny snorts, and rubs his finger under his nose.

"she's sweet," he murmurs, all wide-eyed and feverish. cheeks pinked under the warm spill of orange. "cannae blame a man fer wantin' such a pretty little thing—"

"back of the line," Kyle prods. and you wish his touch made your stomach churn, but that thread of intrigue, alcohol spooled want, still thrums in your veins.

"i just—" you stammer, eyes widening as real, tangible fear sets in. skewers into your belly. heart in your throat. the erratic echoes pounding in your ears. "i just want to go home."

"you are home, birdie—" he speaks and it feels like the walls shake. "didn't get a bright, did you, Johnny?"

"tha's mean, Lt—" his hands snake around your waist, pulling you into his hard chest. "didnae anyone teach ye 'ow tae chirp at birds?" the shorn sides of his Mohawk scratch against your cheek when he nuzzles, kittenish, against your face. "don't listen tae 'im, doe. yer th' sweetest, brightest lit'le thing—"

"mm, and such a bright little girl would know how to behave, wouldn't she?"

even with the alcohol dulling your senses—thoughts scattered and thin as two pairs of hands start pulling at your clothes, stripping you down to nothing—you can still see his words for what it is:

a threat.

as if to reinforce this idea, the man—Ghost, Johnny whines into your burning, stinging cheek, skin chafing from the graze of his buzzed sides: gotta 'ave a taste, Lt—moves, his body spilling out in a dizzying tumble of thick limbs. he stands by the door—the only one—and folds his arms over his chest once more, head cocking to the side as he stares down at you.

"don't worry, Johnny," he rumbles, lids slipping to half cresences over the ink black of his eyes. "i intend to."

the air stills when Price hums. your attention is pulled back to him instantly, but a part of you—all animal—halves it down the middle, keeping Ghost in your sights at all times. turning your back on him feels—

stupid.

you shiver.

Price shifts in the chair, reaching up for the cigar still pinched between his teeth. the look in his eyes is a startling, heavy thing. doom tastes like ash between your teeth.

"an' you're a bright girl, aren't you?"

it's not really a question. you nod anyway, feeling the fight in your body dissolve like wisps of smoke in the dense, thickened air. excitement, desire, hums—an electrical current—in the air, bubbling up between them. they move around you in a way that's dizzingly coordinated—a living, thrumming dance. stigmergy. as your clothes fall, as their hands grab your flesh, pinching and caressing, moaning in your ear about how soft you are, how sweet, one, horrifying thought thickens in the back of your head:

you know, then, that you're not going home.

"oh, sweetheart," Price drawls like he knows what you're thinking. a mocking little coo as he tucks his knuckles under your chin, lifting your head up to meet his burning gaze. there's something in there, you think. something awful. something hungry.

"you already are."

[papaya-twinks]

me? forget - l.n 🎈

Warnings: Swearing, Fluff

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader

“Morning, baby,” Lando smiled, walking into the kitchen behind you, his torso bare as he huffed you from behind. You could feel his chest pressed to your back, his arms round your waist, fingers sliding over your bra, his curls tickling your jaw as he held you to his body.

“Extra affectionate today,” you said, giggling as he pressed a warm kiss to your shoulder, his fingers dipping under the waistband of your panties. “Mmm, can’t help it,” he mumbled, “you look hot in this,” he tugged on the white shirt you had on, unbuttoned.

“Mhm,” you hummed, ducking under his arm to continue making your tea, tying your hair into a messy bun as you worked. “Should I get, like, snacks for upstairs?” Lando smiled, flashing you his goofy grin as you raised a brow, blinking in confusion. 

“Why’s that?” you asked, turning your attention back to your tea cup, missing the way his smile fell slightly. “Y’know, we’re gonna stay home and cuddle and…stuff,” he shrugged, walking back to you to kiss your neck, only to have you duck under his arm once more. 

“No we’re not,” you frowned, “I have some stuff to do,” you said, grabbing your car keys from the dish on the side. “Oh…okay,” Lando said, forcing a smile onto his face as he watched you leave, going up the stairs, a frown on his face. Had he done something wrong? 

You’d never forgotten his birthday, or your anniversary or anything like that, has he done something? Had he forgotten yours or something? Lando stayed upstairs, not even bothering to come down when he heard your car rolling into the driveway, thinking to himself. 

“Hey Lando,” you smiled, walking into the room as you placed your bags down, met with nothing but a half-hearted grunt and an incoherent mumble. “Enjoy the shops?” he finally said, not lookin up from his phone. “It was…just a shopping trip, nothing to enjoy,” you frowned. 

“Whatever,” he mumbled, turning on his side, his back facing you as you sighed. “Can you go out and grab me some snacks?” you asked, “I’m feeling a bit sick of driving, cramps and stuff,” you lied as he rolled his eyes, shrugging and standing up.

“I guess,” he mumbled, grabbing the keys and leaving. Perfect. As soon as he left, Carlos, Max F and a bunch of his other friends crept in, as you’d gone to pick them up instead of going to the shops, a bright grin on your face. 

“God, you look happy,” Max said, nudging you as you followed them into the house, grabbing all the balloons from whet your stuffed them into the closet. “How can I not be?” you said, dumping a bunch of balloons around the place, turning some lights to purple. 

“He was kinda, like, pissed at me, I think,” you said, half-grimacing as Carlos helped you hang up some decorations, Max working on wheeling out the three-tier cake onto the middle of the table. “Coz of the whole ‘forgetting his birthday’ thing?” the Spaniard asked as you nodded. 

“Maybe a surprise party wasn’t such a good idea,” you said, chewing on your lip as Max sighed. “There’s not much we can do now,” Carlos said, “it’s happened now, so we might as well make it special for him, no?”. He was right, now all you had to do was wait for Lando to come back. 

“Surprise!” you all cheered as Lando walked into the too, looking bewildered as he walked into the room, weakly clutching his bag before he blinked a few times, his eyes widening. 

“Y/N, what’s going on?” he immediately went to you, all his earlier coldness forgotten as he dumped the bag in the couch. Max and Carlos popped some confetti things as you grinned, slinging your arms round his neck as he blinked at you, confused. “I-I thought you…forgot my birthday, I-,” Lando rambled, a smile sliding onto his face. 

“Bullshit, like I’d forget your birthday,” you said, squeezing his side as he pushed your hand away, a smile on his face as he kissed your jaw. “Knew it wasn’t like you,” he said, his cheeks tinged slightly pink as he swayed on the spot, watching his friends parade around in celebration for his birthday. 

“I fucking hate you,” he said, watching in awe as Max lifted the knife, handing it to Lando to cut the cake. “God, I love you,” he said, pulling your hand onto his as he cut the cake, the slice falling perfectly onto a paper plate. “I love you,” he said again, kissing you once more. 

[typicalopposite]

I have actually never really sent a prompt to anyone . So idk how much to ask for or how to really give one . But I guess some idea of

118 responding to a horrible bar fight and they find Tommy seriously injured. Buck sees the guy who did it at the scene and he gets furious.

Idk if I asked right lol

Here you go <3 I hope you like it!

(gonna kill two birds with one stone here)

Fuck It Friday

tagged by @bidisasterevankinard & @nine-one-wanton & @lavenderleahy love you all! thank youuu!

(TW: homophobia and racism)

Buck tries to hide just how many times he pulls his phone out, opens the screen and checks to see if Tommy is typing again. He keeps it down by his leg, turns his back to the rest of the team, even hides out in the bathroom a couple times just to stare at the spot where for such a brief moment Tommy was considering saying something… but then changed his mind. 

It’s late and he’s laying on one of the top bunks, eyes fixated on the screen, when Eddie pushes the door open. “Come on Buck…” he sighs. “You gotta give it a rest, man.” Buck tightens his hand around the phone, anticipating Eddie trying to snatch it away again, but he doesn’t. Instead he slumps down to the bottom bunk and goes quiet, leaving Buck alone with that very minimal advice and still no more bubbling. 

The bell rings just as Buck is starting to doze off. 

A bar fight; a bad one at that. They arrive on the scene and Eddie pulls the ambulance up and parks it right behind the engine. The customers are scattered all around the dirt lot, some talking to each other, some on their phones, some talking with police. Bobby said Athena was the first to arrive, but she’s not outside so Buck assumes she’s in the bar talking to the owner. 

One of the bartenders directs them towards a guy sitting hunched over on a bench, holding his face. Eddie goes to him and Buck follows, while Hen and Bobby head inside to where people are saying the more severely injured victim is— or maybe it’s the perpetrator… they aren’t exactly sure what even happened yet. Eddie starts on cleaning the man’s busted brow, and examining the black eye already forming around it. Buck pulls an instant cold compress out and offers it to him for the swelling. All the while the man drunkenly rambles on about how the owner has let the place go to shit… letting just anyone in. Not caring about the patrons who funded them for years with their business. 

Buck listens to his hate filled tirade, but only partially, also tuning in to a server who is telling Athena’s new rookie about what happened. How the guy Eddie was working on had antagonized the whole thing. She seems extremely worried about the other guy taking multiple kicks to the stomach and to the head. “He wasn’t even bothering anyone,” she says, voice shaking from crying. “He was just talking to Darlene about—” she pauses and gives a soft tearful laugh. “Well, he kept calling him ‘his Evan’. But he was so sad because he said he wasn’t really his anymore.” 

It was as if all the sound around him vanished, and his feet were moving before his brain could register where they were going. 

A hand on his chest stopping him from crossing the bar snaps him out of it; it’s Athena. She’s wearing that stern Sergeant Grant look, though it’s fraying around the edges with worry. “Is it him…” Buck starts, looking past her to where Hen is knelt down. Athena purses her lips, furrows her brows… and nods. Buck sucks in a sharp breath and tries to bypass her— he could easily bypass her if he wanted to, but he won’t. He allows her stiffened arm pushing against him to hold him back. “H- How bad is it,” he asks, fighting back against the tears rushing to his eyes. 

“He’s pretty banged up, but he’s in good hands,” she gestures back towards where Hen is working feverishly over— over Tommy. Buck feels like he might pass out. Athena moves so she is in his line of view, and his focus is back on her, then gives him a sympathetic look. “Now I need to go out there so I can arrest the man who did this… soon as Eddie is done with him; and I need you to try to stay calm and not do anything… rash.” 

Buck clenches his jaw, looking over her once again towards Tommy; he can barely see him for the tables and chairs, and multiple first responders hovering around where he’s sprawled out on the floor. 

Athena squeezes his arm and he reluctantly follows her to stand outside. “Just wait here, okay…” she says, before walking over to Eddie and the man who hurt Tommy— his Tommy. He glares over towards them, his blood is boiling. He clenches his jaw tighter, gritting his teeth together. 

The guy looks up at Athena as she starts explaining that he has been identified as the perp, and she is arresting him. Before she can begin reading his rights, though, he leaps up— eyes bulging, lips pulled back in snarl, a finger pointing angrily right in Athena’s face. “I’ll be damned if I’m getting arrested for this; for– for doing a public service,” he spits. Athena stares at him, unfazed. “Besides, he attacked me!” The man gestures towards his face.

“He did not!” The server snaps back. Athena offers her a smile, putting a hand up for her to not argue with him. 

“I see what he did to you, and after the story I heard— about all the things you were in here ranting and raving about, with your chest puffed out like you're some big man just ‘cause you’re supposedly brave enough to say the all hateful things on your mind— hell, I can’t say I would have blamed him for doing more.” 

The man sneered, but stepped back. “Yeah, I figured someone like you would sympathize with someone like that. I guess I might as well chalk this up to being demonized for being the normal one.” 

“I’m sure you demonized yourself, all by yourself,” Athena says with an eye roll. She shoves him around and handcuffs him. “And I’m sure you’ll easily demonize yourself among your fellow inmates as well… though I highly doubt you’ll get lucky enough to get the upper hand again.” 

She grabs his arm and leads him towards her patrol car, passing Buck while keeping a good distance from him. It doesn’t stop the man from looking over and catching Buck’s name tag. “Buckley…” he says, then chuckles. “As in Evan Buckley…” he throws his head back and fully laughs. “So you’re the one he was in there sniffling over like a poor love sick fa—” Buck is charging at him before he can finish the slur… they can fire him for it; who cares. He is stopped by Eddie, and held back long enough for Athena to get the man in her car. 

Eddie loosens his hold and Buck shoves him the rest of the way off, then turns towards the bar. He can hear Eddie calling after him, he just doesn’t care enough to listen to anyone on what they think he should do anymore. Right now he just wants to see Tommy. 

“Buck,” Bobby says, moving towards the door as he comes in. Buck walks past him, shying out of the way of the hand reaching for his shoulder. He pushes through the people, and reaches Hen just as they are getting the gurney lifted up onto its wheels. 

He sees Tommy. 

His shirt has been cut open and dark bruises are covering his torso from the man’s boots. His arm looks broken. His face— Buck sucks in a sharp breath— his face is unrecognizable. He wants to run to him, but he can’t move. 

The jolt of the gurney locking into place causes him to stir. He groans and lolls his head to the side. “Easy there, Tommy.” Hen says, gently laying a hand on him so he doesn’t move. 

“H- Hen?” Tommy turns his head towards her, but both of his eyes are so swollen and completely shut. “Oh god… Ev— B- Buck… he’s not here, is he? I don’t want him to see this…” His lip trembles and it takes the broken pieces of Buck’s heart and grounds them to dust. 

Hen looks at Buck, and Buck shakes his head. “No, he— he was man behind for this one,” she lies. “He’s not here.” 

Tommy breathes, it comes out haggard. “I– I’m so stupid, Hen… I- I was so scared and I hurt him. I didn’t— I didn’t mean to; I didn’t want to. ” Hen looks over the gurney at Buck. Buck still can’t move, he can’t speak, he can’t breathe. “I- I need to tell him I’m sorry. I was going to text him but— I can’t do it over a text…”  

Hen encourages him to lie still, and save his energy. “You’ll get the chance to tell him Tommy,” she says, flicking her eyes to Buck. 

“I– I love him, Hen… I want him back…” 

Buck’s heart clenches; it feels like it's being ripped straight out of his chest. “I know you do,” Hen says softly, still looking at Buck. The gurney is taken away, towards the ambulance. Hen lags behind, walking over to Buck. “Well…” she says, offering a smile. “There’s your answer.” She rests her hand on Buck’s back and leads him out of the bar towards the ambulance. 

[sxmmerberries]

Ramen At 3 AM - kim gyuvin x reader

��� genre: fluff

✦ pairing: kim gyuvin as your boyfriend

✦ word count: 803

✦ summary: your boyfriend, Gyuvin, wakes you up at 3 am to make him ramen.

You rolled your eyes as you felt a poke on your shoulder for the nth time. At any other time of the day, you'd be more than happy to give Gyuvin all your love and attention, but at 3 am in the morning, you wanted nothing more than to continue sleeping.

“If I feel another poke. I'll bite your fingers,” You threatened, turning around a bit to face him, and gave him a sleepy glare.

You turned back to your side of the bed, feeling the sleep come to you again when you felt another poke.

"Go back to sleep," You grumbled sleepily, brushing his hand off.

“But I am hungryyyyy,” He whines, shaking you a little much to your frustration.

"Hi, hungryyyyy. I am (Y/N), and I would like to sleep," Gyuvin gave you a side eye, clearly displeased at your little joke.

"Pleeeeeeeeease,” He continued begging.

"I am not making you ramen at 3 in the morning. Make it yourself!" You glared at him, rolling over to your side again to sleep.

“You’re gonna abandon your poor, hungry boyfriend and leave him all alone in his time of hunger and need?,” He says with a fake sad voice, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck.

"My poor, hungry boyfriend can get up and make his own ramen instead of pestering me," You responded back, pulling the covers over your head.

“But it tastes so much better when you make it," He continues whining and wraps his arms around you, holding you close.

You paid no heed to his words as you closed your eyes and drifted off to sleep much to his disappointment.

Seeing you fall asleep, he continues to leave little kisses on your face and then stares at you with a small, disappointed pout on his face.

"People are so heartless nowadays," He grumbled as he gave you a side eye before laying back down to sleep.

Gyuvin tried his hardest to go back to sleep, but he couldn't ignore the grumbles from his stomach and the images of hot ramen with topping whenever he closed his eyes.

He gave you one last look before sighing and deciding to make it himself. He tries to get out of the room as quietly as he can to avoid waking you up when he accidentally knocks over a glass of water on the bedside table.

He froze on his way out as he watched you stirring awake and sitting up on the bed.

"Gyuvin? What happened?,"You glanced at the broken glass shards and then at him before finally understanding what happened.

"I am sorry. You can go back to bed," He gave you a sheepish smile and walked over to your side of the bed, wanting to tuck you back in.

You surprised him by getting up from the bed and grabbing his hand as you walked out of the bedroom door.

I'll make you your ramen," You sighed as you made your way to the kitchen. Gyuvin looked at you with wide eyes before cheering in happiness, grabbing the packet of ramen that he wanted to eat.

He holds back a small laugh as he hears you scoff at him before he stops his shenanigans and just watches you make the ramen.

“Can I get an egg with it too?," He asks with a pleading smile and puppy eyes as he rests his head on your shoulder, hugging you from behind.

"Of course, you can," You chuckled slightly at his childlike demeanor.

“You’re the best," He says, placing a kiss on your cheek.

A few minutes later, the ramen is done and he excitedly takes it to the table, quickly putting the egg and toppings in.

He then looks up at you with a wide smile before patting the seat next to him. You plopped down on the chair beside him, watching him dig into the ramen you made happily.

“This is the best thing ever,” He complimented as he savoured each bite.

"I never knew ramen could make someone happy," You rested your head in your hand, watching him eat.

"I think being with the person who made it makes me happier than the ramen itself," He grinned as he offered you a bite which you ate before grabbing the utensils from his hand and swirling a huge bite of noodles.

He closed his eyes, expecting you to feed him. He looked at you with disappointment as he watched you eat it yourself.

“My ramen!"Gyuvin protested, pulling the bowl closer to him to shield it away from you.

“I made it!”

"I am telling your mom that you ate my ramen!"

"I am telling your mom that her son woke me up at 3 to make him ramen and then won't let me eat!

"You wouldn't!" He gasped at your words.

"I would," You gave him an evil smile before reaching for his ramen again.

©sxmmerberries

more zb1 fics

[boytearscore]

his obsession, her control. — matthew sturniolo.

summary: because ever since he met his brothers' best friend, he hated her to the core by the way she dressed, talked and presented herself. he thought she was just an attention seeker while claiming to be the only immune guy to her dirty games. that is until the morning chris and nick decided to go out and get groceries by themselves, since matt himself refused to drive them to target, he was left all alone with her, unfortunately for the blue eyed boy, his strong belief of being an exception when it comes to fall for her dangerous charm was completely erroneous.

warnings: swearing, teasing/arguing (matt being a jerk mostly), enemies to lovers but sort of he hates her while she finds his tantrums amusing, smut, bratty!matt, blowjob, facefucking, foreplay, agressiveness and a lot of dirtytalk.

author’s note: before y’all start to hate me, i came home from work yesterday and had NO wifi nor data to post the chapter. still, i apologize for the delay. also, comment and tell me what you think about this new plot, the main character is gonna teach you that just because a girl is dominating, doesn’t mean she can’t play the submissive role to get her ways faster. ;)

chapter one.

the girl sighs slowly spreading her legs over the couch, it’s been only ten minutes since chris and nick left and she already felt like melting with boredom, not finding anything or anyone interesting to see or text on her phone.

her eyes shift slowly around the house, stopping right at the door slightly open of matthew’s room, her best friends’ annoying brother. it’s been years and she still didn’t believe they were triplets, how can matt be so awfully different from them? usually she doesn’t interact much with him except when he gives her disappointing and judging glares while they’re both in the same room. instead of angering her, she always finds it amusing and always provoke him until he’s red with anger.

that’s when the brilliant idea pops up in her pretty little head, what if she breaks into matt’s room to make him absolutely lose his shit? that’s enough to entertain her while her best friends are out for a couple hours, right?

while tiptoeing and holding a mischievous laugh, she peeks through the gap to study her target. matt is resting, laying on his bed with hair falling over his eyes and still wearing his pyjamas even though it was afternoon, his arm behind his neck making his muscles visibly flexed by the position, at the same time the other one is placed over his stomach, scrolling on his phone peacefully. 

she stares at his tattoos and the veins of his arm, it wasn’t a secret matt was attractive, in fact, she didn’t feel the need to say otherwise because one; hating him wasn’t a possibility, she couldn’t care less about his childish behavior, it was actually pretty funny and that gave her lots of opportunities to tease him. and two: nothing was more satisfying than seeing his jaw clenched and his bratty attitude rising when she provoked him.

“get out.” he says without looking at the door, being able to feel her presence due to her sweet and addicting scent.

she chuckles, entering and closing the door behind her calmly. “you know… i wasn’t gonna stay but now that you told me to get out...” her exposed legs by the black miniskirt make its way to his bed, sitting on the edge, her smooth skin complimenting the white sheets while her skirt molded perfectly her thighs.

matt rolls his eyes again “i don't care what you do, just don't bother me while i’m trying to relax.” he continues on his phone, not even glancing at the girl’s relaxed figure. “what do you want, anyway? nick and chris had enough of you and now you came here to annoy me? you’re really good at that, you know.“ he smirks sarcastically.

“oh, i’m very aware.” she crawls to the other edge of the bed close to the wall, leaning against it, her legs brushing against his feet slightly without her noticing.

matt, however, did notice it. in fact, his whole shivered body noticed it.

“and don’t pretend like you hate it when i’m here.”

the blue eyed boy scoffs and moves his feet away from her. “oh, i don’t have to pretend, i can barely stand being in the same room as you most of the time.” he sets his phone down and finally looks at her, giving her the a once-over with his typical critical eye, he stares at her tank top and then at her uncovered stomach and thighs. “what’s with the short skirt, huh? trying to impress someone? it’s not like anyone here would be interested in a girl like you, anyway.” matt smirks arrogantly. “especially not me. so you can stop trying so hard, it’s pathetic.”

“it’s fucking 95° degrees.” she replied with her usual nonchalant tone while grabbing her phone to check her lip gloss. “and i wouldn’t be so sure about that, your friends are more than interested. everytime they come here to hangout with you, they spend more time thirsting over me than talking to your boring ass.” she added, drawing her lips with a finger and laughing a little at her own comment at the same time. matt finds himself glazing at her lips, the way she draws her reddish glossy flesh with her finger without a worry, like her moves were calculated. to him, it seemed like she doesn’t feel anything, no matter what he says.

he snaps from the trance, shaking his head and frowning at her words.

his friends indeed spend more time eating her alive with their eyes than paying attention to him when she is around with nick and chris, which made matt crazy with rage. all of the groans and death glares he gives her every single time just proving her point without needing to add much.

matt finally narrows his eyes, anger building inside him little by little. “don’t even fucking start with them. they’re too good for your stupid annoying personality.” he leans back against his headboard, crossing his arms over his chest as he stares at the girl pointedly. “it doesnt matter, you’re just asking for attention dressed like that, regardless. typical slutty behavior from a girl like you.” the boy sneers derisively. “probably hoping one of us will bend you over and teach you a lesson, huh? too bad. i have standards, unlike my idiotic friends, apparently... they’ll fuck anything that moves. not me though. i need a real woman, not some immature whore.” he smirks cruelly. “unluckily for you, i’m not interested in sloppy seconds. or thirds.”

oh, the good and old fragile masculinity. the girl smirks, her eyes shifting to dark manner.

“is that so?” she leans over his legs, placing both hands on his tights covered by his grey sweatpants, her long black nails digging slightly into his skin while her penetrating gaze stares at his soul, the boy’s body tensed up and she scoffs. “what’s wrong? are you too insecure to handle a confident woman?” matt freezes for a second almost vocally responding to the sensation of her nails digging into his flesh, he swallows avoiding her eyes with a mix of rage and anticipation.

the girl studies his expression, feeling his tights tensing up more and more underneath her fingers. she bends back to her previous spot laughing quietly, her unbothered expression and nonchalant tone still not changing. “if you think that a piece of fabric defines a woman’s worth then you’re nothing but a virgin little boy who probably gets hard watching cartoons.” she gets up, walking towards the door, turning her head to face him before leaving. “you know… there’s a big difference between being an asshole and just a straight up sexist. i was wrong about you and sadly not in a good way.” she opens the door and closes it behind her, calmly walking to the living room and sitting on the huge white couch once again. the girl unlocks her phone, scrolling without paying attention to the screen. mentally, she was counting the seconds to see matthew’s figure bursting out of his room and scream at the top of his lungs. the corner of her mouth quirked up with excitement.

meanwhile, matthew stares blankly at her ghost in front of him, processing her words. he grits his teeth, face turning red with anger. 

the tall boy jumps up from the bed and storms out of the room after her, heading straight to the living room, her calm and collected mannerism making his neck vein pop up with annoyance. “fuck you! you don't know shit about me!” matt stands in front of the girl, hands on his hips as he glares down at where she sits on the couch. “i’m not insecure nor a virgin, you stupid cunt! and i’m not a little boy either! i’m a grown-ass man who knows what he wants! unlike you, who clearly has no self-respect dressing like a fucking hooker.” his voice is rising with each word, his temper flaring out of control. he takes a step closer, looming over her menacingly. 

she laughs amusedly, getting up from the couch without a hush, her eyes not backing down from his one second.

their faces are inches apart, his nostrils flare as she invades his personal space, his breath hitching slightly at how close she is. he can smell her scent again with the mix of her mint warm breath hitting his face and watch the flecks of pure darkness in her eyes. it makes him even angrier that she affects him this way.

“then why are you yelling and being so defensive?” she tilts her head, pursing her lips to mock him. “did i hit a nerve, little boy?”

matt laughs sarcastically, rubbing his face in frustration.

“i’m not defensive, you fucking psycho! i’m pissed off because you're a delusional bitch who thinks she can talk to people however she wants without consequences!” his voice drops to a low growl as he stares intensely into her eyes, his own blazing with fury and something else he refuses to acknowledge. “think you're so sly, so above everyone else, huh? sorry to break your little ‘i don’t care’ attitude but you're nothing special. just another dumb slut looking for a man to put you in your place.” matt reaches out and grips her chin roughly, forcing her to maintain eye contact with him. she gasps with his aggressiveness while smirking, still not being affected by his words. 

“oh, i don’t think i’m above anyone else.” she leads her hand to his chest, creeping up to the neck and he tightens the grip on her chin, his pulse racing beneath her fingers. “i just think i’m better than guys who judges people based on clothes. you know? the ones who probrably will stay alone and horny forever?” her challenge only fuels his anger further and he leans in even closer until their noses are nearly touching, making her smirk wider. ”guys like… you.” he groans, sliding his other hand up to wrap around her throat loosely, applying just enough pressure in an attempt to make her submit once and for all, but it was too late. she was getting inside his head without even trying too much and he had no idea. “see, you’re calling me a slut for the way i dress but i bet you can’t name one guy i’ve dated.’’

“you’re right, i don't know who you've fucked. but i know your type, always throwing yourself at guys, desperate for validation. you probably spread your legs for the first dick that shows interest, don't you?” he replies right away, his words heavy with irritation. “face it, sweetheart - you're a pathetic little tease who gets off on driving guys crazy. well, congratulations, mission accomplished. you’re driving ME crazy alright... but not in the way you wanted.”

the girl lets out a small giggle, ignoring all the offensive comments, her mind floating with the thought of all the words she’s gonna make him swallow later. this by itself was awfully turning her on, but she manages to hide it well by her unconcerned expression.

“it’s so funny the way you’re affected by my words while trying so hard not to show it.” the girl takes her hand away from his neck, crossing her arms. “and i didn’t even try anything. i just replied to your brainless incel comments and you got mad because you have nothing else to say besides calling me an attention seeker.” she shrugs, her gaze still on him while she feels his fingers flexing around her slender throat.

matt snorts derisively at her words, her neck veins pulsing underneath his digits. he knows she's affected by him too, no matter how much she tries to hide it.

‘’oh please, spare me the bullshit. you live for this kind of thing… pissing people off, pushing buttons until they snap. well, i’m not falling for your sick games.’’ he releases her abruptly and steps back, running a hand through his hair in frustration. his heart pounds wildly in his chest but he refuses to let it show on his face.“get the hell out of my sight before i do something we both regret. trust me, you don't want to test me right now. i’m not one of your little boy toys to play with whenever you feel bored.’’

the corner of her lips went up with a smirk, she quietly sneaks behind matt who is currently facing his door, trying to control the anger and arouse inside him.

the girl lifts her feet up a little to reach his ear. “and what exactly are we going to regret, matt?” she whispers, brushing her lips against his lobe.

matt freezes as he feels her warm breath ghosting over his ear, her lips barely grazing his skin. every muscle in his body tenses, his fists clenching at his sides as he fights the urge to grab her and throw her onto the nearest surface.

‘’fuck you, get off me!’’ he snaps, shrugging her off roughly and spinning around to face her. his eyes blaze with barely contained lust and fury as he backs her up against the wall, caging her in with his arms. ‘’fine. let's play this fucking game, but don’t fool yourself. this is MY game, not yours. see if you can handle the consequences.’’ matt leans in, capturing her mouth in a brutal kiss before biting at her bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, she moans with the mixture of pain and pleasure, the taste of blood only making her more aroused by second. 

her arms wrap around his neck, one hand reaches his hair, grabbing and pulling back in a sharp grip to make him face her. “is that all you can do?” she asks, gasping with her mouth slightly open, a little blood stain painting her swallowed lips red. “guess i was right about you just being a virgin little boy.” the girl smirks, tightening the grip on his hair more aggressively, a low growl rumbles in matt's chest, the sharp sting only serving to inflame his desire further. 

he presses himself fully on her, grinding his already hard cock against her hip as he grabs both wrists and pins them above her head roughly. ‘’you fucking tease, you have no idea what i’m capable of.’’ he rasps, trailing biting kisses along her jawline and down her neck, sucking hard enough to leave marks. “i could ruin you in ways you never imagined. make you beg while screaming my name to the whole fucking neighborhood to listen.’’ matt nips sharply at her collarbone before soothing the sting with his tongue, laving the abused flesh with long strokes. his free hand slides down to grope her breast roughly through the thin fabric of her top, tweaking her nipple between his fingers.

she gasps, lifting her leg up between his legs, her hands still pinned above her head. “you’re just talk.” she scoffs, brushing her knee against his hard cock and he tilts his head back, lips parted with a whimper before he turns back to her, closing the gap between their bodies even more while sliding up the grip on her wrists, making her moan with the pain of her muscles being stretched aggressively. “i dare you to destroy me, matthew. even though i know you won’t get even close.” she looks up at him with a burning gaze, a unreadable expression in her face.

his eyes darken with sadistic glee at her challenge, a wicked smirk twisting his lips. matt releases her wrists abruptly and grips the hem of her black tight top, tearing it open with one swift motion to expose her bra-clad breasts, she moans and whimpers against his mouth, finally feeling her arms free. the flimsy lace provides little barrier as he palms the soft mounds roughly, rolling her sensitive nipples between his fingers. ‘’want to be destroyed, you fucking slut? i’ll give you what you asking for.’’ he captures her mouth again in a searing kiss, all teeth and tongue as he plunders her depths ruthlessly. the blue eyed boy hands roam her body greedily, squeezing and caressing every curve as he grinds his aching erection against her hip bone.

she breaks the kiss with heavy breathing, her lips still brushing against his. “yet you seem more affected than me.” she leads a hand to his hard cock, caressing it, matt immediately lets out a strangled groan as she gropes his straining dick through the cotton fabric of the sweatpants, his hips jerking involuntarily into her touch. “so hard…” her hand squeezes the covered length ruthlessly, leaning to his neck and sucking his pale skin, she smiles noticing the instant harsh red hickeys. “it seems like you’re the slut.” she brings a hand to his face, slapping it slightly before grabbing his face and pulling closer to hers. “and you didn’t even need to dress like me to be one, did you?” she giggles, sucking his bottom lips before biting it without mercy to bruise him just like he did to her.

“shut your fucking mouth.” her teasing words send a fresh wave of fury crashing through him and he grabs a fistful of her hair, yanking her head back roughly to bare the column of her throat to his hungry mouth. “you have no idea what you're talking about.” he snarls against her skin before sinking his teeth into the tender flesh, marking her with his hatred and desire. the other hand slides under her skirt to cup her ass possessively, kneading the firm globe. “i’m gonna fuck that smart mouth of yours until you choke on my cock. show you what a real man can do.“

she chuckles, her eyes glaring at him with challenge. “a real man, huh?” she slowly drop to her knees, calmly tracing her fingers over his sweatpants and pulling down just enough, his hard cock jumps over her face and matt breath catches in his throat watching the scene before his eyes, her hot mouth hovering mere inches from his very erected member. “no underwear at home? how slutty of you.” she chuckles, leaning against his pink tip covered with precum and licking it while her lustful eyes gazed at his face. “let’s see if you’re just all talk or not.”

his lips turns from a gasp to a smirk with her words, he tangles his fingers in her hair, gripping tightly as he guides her face closer to his straining erection. “open wide, you whore. show me how good you can suck dick.” he demands gruffly, rubbing the leaking tip across her full lips. “if you do a decent job, maybe i’ll consider letting you ride my cock later. would you like that, princess? to have me splitting your cunt open with my cock?”

matt pushes past her lips without waiting for a response, sliding deep into the welcoming heat of her mouth with a guttural moan.

she begins to take him all inside her mouth, reaching the throat right away while sucking vigorously, her tongue twisting around his tip when reaching the top before sliding back down deep in her cavity. her eyes already flooding with tears thanks to the aggressive contact of his large dick hitting the back of her throat multiple times, she’s looking at him with siren eyes while her nails were scratching and digging on his thighs.

matt throws his head back with a loud groan as the girl takes him with all effort, her throat constricting deliciously around his sensitive cock. the tears finally stream down her flushed cheeks as she struggles to accommodate his size, but she doesn't pull away, instead doubling her efforts to please him. “just like that. take it all, you filthy little cockslut.” he praises roughly, holding her head steady as he begins to thrust shallowly into her mouth, fucking her face with increasing intensity. “your mouth was made for sucking my dick, wasn't it? bet you love having your throat used like this, being choked on my thick cock.”

he picks up speed, slamming into her mouth brutally as he chases his release.

meanwhile she sucks him more, putting more pressure and taking him even deeper, her tears continuously falling down her pink cheeks and her makeup all smudge over under eyes still glued to his.

that sight of her was way too much for him, matt smirks to himself. feeling proud of dominating the girl who never backs down to anyone. her tear-streaked face, the makeup running down her cheeks as she takes his cock like a submissive whore sends matt hurtling towards the edge. with a roar, he buries himself balls-deep in her throat and holds her there as he erupts, flooding her mouth with spurt after spurt of hot cum.

“swallow it all, don't you dare spill a single drop.” he growls, keeping her trapped on his twitching shaft as he rides out the waves of his intense orgasm. “fuck, such a good cumdump. you’ve earned yourself a reward. now get up and bend over the kitchen counter. it’s time for me to fuck your little wet pussy.”

the girl swallows everything slowly holding back a smirk while savoring the taste of winning against a fucking asshole, she already won and her game didn’t even start yet.

slowly, she gets up in front of him, wipping the saliva off her chin and the melted makeup under her eyes. her hair beautifully messy and her shining eyes by the tears giving matthew the brief satisfaction, but quickly he shifts his mocking smile to a frown when she smirks and get closer to him.

“you’re not gonna fuck me, matt.” she announces, placing a finger on his chin. “because all i needed to do was pretend to be submissive for a split second for you to think that i was playing your little game, but in reality, you were playing mine this whole time.” she chuckles, releasing his chin with a harsh push with her finger, his head turn to the side while his jaw clenched. “you said you’re not like the other guys but you fell for my tricks just like they do.” she fixes her clothes, walking to the couch and sitting there with her legs crossed, the wetness of her pussy making her a little uncomfortable, but she brushes it off continuing her line of thoughts. “i wouldn’t be mad though, i just gave you the best orgasm of your life, didn’t i?” she asks, tilting her head while smiling.

he stares at her with his mouth open as she saunters away, ignoring his demand to present herself for him to ravage. she was right, no girl ever made him feel that amount of pleasure in his life but of course he was not gonna tell her that.

matt sighs, anger and arousal war within him as he watches her swinging her feet on the couch as if nothing happened.

“the fuck do you think you're doing? come here and bend over your fucking ass so i can destroy your soaking wet cunt.” he warns darkly, stalking towards her with murderous intent in his eyes. “you don't get to tease me like that and then just walk away. this is not how this works, i will have you begging for my cock before we're done today, mark my words.“

reaching the couch, matt grabs the girl roughly by the arm and hauls her to her feet.

“you’re the one begging to fuck me, matt.” she says smirking, his tight grip on her arm making her feel the need to provoke him more. “i mean, if you’re right about me opening my legs to every guy, i guess you’re the only one not getting it. and yet you’re here, wanting so bad to feel my pussy around your dick.” she places a hand over his cheek, caressing it with a fake sense of care. “you’re pathetic…” her thumb slowly slides to his lips, drawing it slightly while the boy shivered, not knowing which emotion to focus, horniness or ego bruised. “but that’s okay, i love pathetic men, they stand exactly where i want.” she slowly inserts a finger inside his mouth and matt opens it without even noticing. “that’s it…” she whispers, pressing his tongue with enough pressure to make him groan.

he is paralyzed again, all this new sensations eating his masculinity and dominance alive, her mocking words stoking the flames of his fury higher but at the same time he wants to give him to the pleasure but quickly recovering to protect his pride.

he grabs her wrist in an iron grip, still feeling the taste of her thumb in his mouth while the other hand acts quickly, seizing her waist against his torso, trapping her between the hard surface nearest wall and his muscular body.

“listen here, you little brat.” he slides his hand under her skirt, using his finger to pull her panties to the side. matt grins, feeling her soaking wet pussy. “look at you, you’re dripping.” he chuckles sarcastically. “i’m going to fuck you and you’re gonna take my cock as the good slut you are. the only question is whether you're going to be able to sit comfortably tomorrow or not.” he threatens menacingly, grinding his already hardening cock against her lower stomach. “i suggest you start begging nicely for it like a good little bitch. maybe if you ask really sweetly, i’ll go easy on you... for the first round, anyway.”

suddenly the voices of chris and nick echoed through the front door. seems like they were back with the groceries. she smirks at matt. 

“nope, i’d rather leave you hard and dry in front of your brothers.” she winks at him smirking, taking his surprise as an advantage to break free from his body, heading to the the her previous spot calmly.

matt curses under his breath as he hears chris and nick approaching the stairs with loud laughter and chatting, knowing he won't have time to properly punish that menace for her insolence. not yet anyway. he shoots her a look filled with dark promise before quickly tucking himself back into his pants and adjusting his shirt.

“this isn't over.” he whispers harshly, jabbing a finger at her as he steps back and she smiles at him amused by his anger. with that ominous vow ringing in the air, matt turns to greet his brothers with a forced smile, praying they don't notice the prominent bulge tenting his sweatpants or the glazed look of frustrated lust in his eyes.

[thealbatrovss]

wind song // logan(2017) x fem mutant reader

(mini series)

synopsis : you dream of a life without your powers. logan needs them to help locate some dead guys cash. a roadtrip to the Nevada desert with your ex was always bound to be a mistake. but, maybe it wasn’t.

Chapter 1 - blood money

chapter summary: after breaking up over a year ago, you reunite with logan at a diner in Texas. he needs a favor.

warnings: 18+ ONLY // MDNI - suggestive content, mature themes/subject matters, death, swearing, eventual violence and smut.

word count: 2k+

wind song masterlist // my other masterlist

The coffee was burnt. You pretended to like it that way.

The white mug was too hot to hold with your hands, so you opted for a straw instead. You found it in the corner of the booth. That earned some stares from the old couple eating lunch a few tables over and your waitress.

“That’s gonna melt the plastic right into your drink, you know?” Her Texan accent wasn’t as thick as the other waiters. There was red lipstick on her teeth. “Just wait for it to cool down.”

You picked the plastic tube from the liquid, inspecting it. It was still intact. “Looks fine to me.” And you popped it back in. There were sugar packets on the table. They reminded you of pixie sticks. You started to feel nauseous.

The lady shook her head, putting her notepad with your orders away. “Whatever gets you through the day.” And she left to go get your food. Or complain to her coworkers about the woman melting plastic instead of sugar into her coffee.

You wanted to drink it like normal. But you’d used a similar cup like this before to solve a case a few months back. It just didn’t feel right. Objects never did after they helped you locate the missing person. Another strange aspect of your powers. It’s like the people lived on through their things.

You could see his car pulling in through the driveway. He was right on time. Like always.

All kinds of emotions were running through you. You’d just arrived here out of state for a funeral. You were still wearing the black dress from attending this morning. Logan had called as you debated in your car whether to attend the after-services or not. Guess you got your answer. But it was still a surprising one.

You hadn’t seen or heard from him in over a year. Not since the incident.

The front doors opened, and the bell rang to let everyone know. You sat up a little straighter, nervous fingers folded in your lap.

Logan seemed to bring down the entire room as soon as he walked in. He wore a white tank top, with a white button-up over it. His black suit jacket was covered in specks of dirt and dust. His beard was a lot fuller now, his hair a bit shorter. Both growing gray. It glistened with the beads of something that smelled like moonshine.

For the first time in your life, you could see his age catching up to him. And the exhaustion. It was written on the bags underneath his eyes. In the way he held his aching knuckles to his chest, staring at where his claws hid.

He took a quick swig from his flask, ignoring the waiter's glare from behind the main counter. He was looking for you, drink still in hand.

You let him find you.

“Nice dress.” He started with. Your heart rate increased. You bit the inside of your lip. He still had that gravitational pull that made people want to either run and hide or get closer to him. He slid into the booth across from you. The sugar packets made shaking noises. He left his flask out on the table. “What’s the occasion?”

Your hands played with the black fabric ending at your knees. “Funeral.”

Logan nodded his head in understanding. He took out his glasses, looking at one of the menus.

“Oh, I’ve ordered already.”

“And I’m hungry as shit.”

“I ordered for you.” You emphasized.

Logan paused, staring at a picture of a salad. His eyes peeked out over the menu. “The usual?”

You nodded, swirling the straw around in the cooling cup of coffee. “Most places have what you like.”

He removed his glasses, rubbing at the irritated spot on his nose. “Next time, let me get my own tab.”

When she returned with the food, you ate in silence.

Logan stuffed a plate of sausages in his mouth before finishing attacking the eggs. He occasionally reached for his flask, like it was something he had ordered.

You didn’t feel like eating. The sugar was grinding in your ears. You’d have to take this sandwich to go. The coffee was going cold now.

“So,” you started. You were suddenly aware of how sticky the seat was beneath you. “Why did you call?”

“Why did you answer?” He kept eating. His fork made noises when it hit the plate.

You thought about the weeping mother and the small casket. “Well, it was either this or dwell on my last case. And I’d rather talk with an old friend than think about any of that.”

He stopped chewing, swallowing hard. “Well, then you’re not going to like what I have to say.”

Your brows knitted. You leaned back against the headboard. “I’m listening.”

Your ex took another shot of the hard alcohol. It was still the afternoon. But alcohol didn’t have the same effect on him as it did on other people. His abilities wouldn’t allow it. But it was still a problem.

He stuffed the flask back in his shirt pocket, only after it was empty. “I’ll make it short. A client of mine owes me a lot of fucking money.”

You crossed your arms. “How much?”

He put up five fingers. You remembered how they used to squeeze your hand in comfort. Sometimes they’d wipe away your tears. Other times they gripped your thighs and pulled you closer.

It was bittersweet. Those sweet and intimate memories. Even as the world continued to go to shit and mutants became less and less, you still had each other. Until something took that all away. You could recall the whistle ringing from your lips. Your cheeks were cold during the early days of fall. Logan was yelling about how you should’ve seen this coming. But he knew how your abilities worked. They didn’t work on the living.

“5,000?” You guessed.

“50,000.” He corrected.

Your jaw dropped. “Jesus. Were you his chauffeur or were you sleeping with him?”

He smiled. It was a weak one but it was still there. If you weren’t so used to it you would’ve missed it. “Look, he was a rich asshole who promised me a big tip. That's all.”

“That’s not a tip. That’s my salary.”

Logan set his utensils down after taking one last bite. “Then you need a fucking raise.”

“Or a new profession.” You joked. But it came out flat.

Being a private detective could’ve been a more fulfilling job. If it wasn’t for the fact that your mutant gene gave you the ability to track any person or creature. But only if they were dead.

You’ve worn this dress too many times to too many funerals.

Logan seemed like he was fighting with himself, whether to respond to that confession or not. He didn’t. Instead, he pulled out a fancy fountain pen from his jacket. “This is all I have of his.” He placed it on the table in front of you. “Will this be enough?”

You wanted to roll your eyes. “I haven’t even agreed to anything yet. What makes you think he’s dead in the first place?”

“Because, when he called saying he had the money, I heard gunshots. Then the phone went out. It’s been three weeks.”

“And no one’s reported him missing?” That was odd.

“Nope.” He looked from your eyes to your lips. “He never even told me where he was. I think he was out of state. And before you ask, yes, I already tried to trace the call. Nothing.”

The waitress came by, handing you a to-go box and whisked away his empty plates. Her eyes lingered noticeably longer on Logan as she walked back into the kitchen.

You continued your questioning. “Does he have any family? Maybe they know where he is.”

“No. He told me he was an only child. Parents died by the time he was 40. No other living relatives. People say a lot of shit when they’re drunk in the back of a car. Or just damn lonely.” His hand instinctively went to rest on the flask in his pocket. He motioned towards the pen. “If you need more than this, I can get it.”

You hesitated to pick it up. “You know how much I hate doing this.”

“I know.” He licked his lips, leaning towards you. “Yet, you’re still looking for people.”

It was true.

As much as you hated your powers, as much as they hurt; they could be used to help. Even if that meant only ever bringing people back to their families dead instead of alive.

A quote from your old Professor echoed in your mind. From a time long lost in the unforgiving hands of time and a powerful mind.

“Sometimes, doing the right thing can hurt you. But, it can give peace to the ones that you’re helping. What you give up, you give away. For good or for evil, now that’s up to you.”

You shut your eyes and took a deep breath. An old friend was asking for your help. But would he do the same for you? There was a time when you would’ve never doubted it. You hated yourself for that.

The pen felt icy in your hands. Maybe Logan was right. Maybe he was dead. You could already feel something beating through the object. It didn’t feel alive. “When do we start?”

A glimmer of light radiated off of Logan’s rugged face. For a moment there, it was like he was his old self again. The light flickered out just as quickly as it came. “Tomorrow morning. 8 am. I’ll pick you up.” He placed a 20-dollar bill next to your half-empty coffee cup.

You stared at the dead man on the paper. “I’ve already paid.”

“This is for the tip.” He stood, a slight uneasiness in his steps. He seemed so tired.

Were his regenerative powers still getting worse?

He paused before heading out, messing with the cuff of his sleeves. “Don't worry. I’ll make sure you get paid for this.”

I don’t want your damn money. I want to be rid of this haunting.

You let him think you were deep in thought. You tapped your chin. “I’ll take 60%.”

Logan put a hand on his hip. He sighed. “Now don’t piss me off.”

You rolled your eyes. “Would never dream of doing that.” You packed your untouched sandwich away in the box.

Logan cursed under his breath. It sounded like he was muttering between fuck it and fines. When he left the small diner the room felt lighter again.

You watched him drop his keys in the parking lot and stomped them further into the Texas dirt.

“See, I told you!” You turned to your waitress who was pointing at your cup. The plastic was starting to crinkle and melt. You could see it poking out from the brim of the liquid. “Next time, just drink the damn thing normally.”

I would if I could.

Logan was already gone by the time you looked back out the window. The sugar packets shook as you stood to leave. The cup rattled. The pen pulsed in your hands. Like it was trying to mimic a heartbeat it no longer had. You could feel your powers radiating through the objects.

That night you played with the lamentation on the corner of a photo.

Your motel room was small but surprisingly homely. There was a TV playing at full volume in the room next door. It kept you awake. Sounded like an action movie. It seemed to go on forever.

The photo was of you and Logan. You still kept it in your wallet. It was hidden behind old coupons and a stick of gum. Sometimes you forget it was even there. Most of the time you self soothed by peeling off the lamentation from the corners. The sides looked like the melting straw in your cup of coffee.

It was 9 pm. You ate most of your sandwich. A corner piece sat in the to-go box on your bed. Someone finally shut the TV off. A dog was barking in the parking lot. Cigarette smoke hugged the air. You put the photo back into your wallet, this time behind your credit card.

“Logan’s phone.” You heard Caliban's voice sing through the line. “Sometimes mine if he lets me use it.”

It was nice to hear from him again. A tracker similar to you but only with mutants. He was always mesmerized by how your powers worked. He used to show you the sketches of the figures you blew into the wind when you whistled. You wondered if he still kept those drawings.

“Hey. It’s me.”

“I know. He’s still got your contact name in his phone.”

You smiled a little. “Is he there?”

“He’s working. Some bachelor party, I think. He’s probably pissed he left his phone here.”

You looked at the fountain pen sitting on the nightstand. “When he gets back, could you tell him we’re headed to Nevada.”

“Nevada? What the hell are you two going to do up there?” He paused for a brief moment as if he just remembered. “Oh yeah. The blood money.”

“Did he promise you a cut too?”

He let out a laugh. “Logan can hardly part with a 5-dollar bill these days. I’ll probably get paid shit for watching Charles while you two go off getting married in some shitty casino or something.”

“It’s just a business trip. Nothing more.”

“We’ll have to agree to disagree on that one, my friend.”

There was a storm happening outside. The wind howled like a river of ghosts against the motel walls. You thought you heard old teammates and friends whispering in it.

A cough came from the other line. “By the way, if you come across a Vegas snow globe, I’d very much like to add it to my collection.”

“Sure.” The howling outside continued. “Take care, Caliban.”

“You don’t want to ask how Charles is doing?”

You took a sharp inhale. You didn’t need to ask. You knew exactly how he was doing. And you didn’t want to talk about him right now. Maybe some other time. You kept putting it off. You’d deal with that guilt another time.

“I’ll get you that snow globe.” And you hung up.

You fell asleep, still wearing that black dress.

[magickpancakes]

Finished the ref for Technologickal_Flapjacks :3

extra info on her below

she / her the "Evil Version" of MagickPancakes. Some weird protogen-cat-naga creature. Same person as MP, in the sense that her sexuality and opinions remain largely the same, however has a snappier and more sarcastic personality

Face, belly diamond, and inner ears are screens. and can display images. those images are not limited to the black and green color palette usually displayed, however she tends to stick to those colors (could play Bad Apple, good luck gettin her to do that tho)

All of the bright green markings all over her body glow, her neck and tail stripes being the least bright and her "core" and face being the most bright

ears are purely decorative, she mainly hears through her antenna, and through a mic placed under her chin (like, the underside of her snoot, yknow?)

the "core" on her chest is also decorative, with the backwall of it being LED lights, its covered by a green piece of glass with a cat sticker stuck on the inside of it, there is also a loose wire hanging near the top of the "core"

Doesnt like and will not wear any type of clothing, however, will tolerate stickers and some hair accesories. only temporaraly tho, mainly because she "doesnt want to look like some stupid kid's toy" and would "rather look professional and sleek, just how i was designed"

constantly checks her appearance for that reason

tail spike/sword/whatchamacallit is solid and sharp, like a knife (sharpens and maintains it often)

Hair is synthetic, and connects to the ears, kinda like a hood of sorts yknow? like, if ya took off the hair, ya would end up uncovering her ear mechanics and the back of the screens

obnoxious, loud, and rude. will take your stuff without asking, leave empty containers instead of replacing them, but is annoyingly passive-aggresive about you doing your share of chores (this is only if you happen to be living with her or smth, which is unlikely)

resting bitch-face, and tbh, just bitch by default

wont pay attention in conversations (unless its important), will like, check her nails, check herself in a mirror, fix her hair, all while going "uh huh.... thats crazy..." 5000 times

acts very aloof and snobby, even around people she'd consider "acquaintances". will make fun of you if she notices smth.

has standards to her belittling however, will not make fun of: race, ethnicity, sexuality, gender, pronouns, loss of loved ones, weight, appearance, disabilities, boundaries, etc. (shes an asshole, but shes not gonna make u feel terrible about shit ya cant control (at least not a lot)

will still mock ya for this but it wont be as fierce: interests, skills/skill level, crushes/love interests.. shit people close to u might comment on

hates physical touch, will not touch you, definitely wont let you touch her (mainly due to her wanting to remain clean and presentable, however, as noticeable she dont like other beings all that much)

this is probably gonna get added to or smth, or ya may find more snipits of info in future art, but ima be here for 3 hours if i dont stop now lol

[carto0ncritter]

Abusive fictional fathers - Robotnik vs. Stolas

I won't be talking about Coconuts here since he's not on screen that much, but know that I feel sorry for the stuff he's been through, poor guy

Robotnik ⮕ Scratch & Grounder

Like... he literally only created these two to use and abuse them and that's crystal clear

When I say Robotnik is an abusive pos, this is what I mean (and this is just some of the physical abuse, don't even get me started on the emotional):

...Okay, that last picture was the last straw. Robotnik's thrist for power has officially outweighted Scratch and Grounder's "value." He felt 0 remorse for throwing them into the lava. Keep in mind, he THOUGHT HE HAD KILLED THEM and DIDN'T CARE AT ALL. Thankfully they were fine. And no the fact that they're robots doesn't make it any less wrong

If you're willing to sacrifice your children for a powerful artefact, then I'm (NOT) sorry to say this, but you're a heartless pos and deserve to be held accountable for your actions. If I were in Scratch and Grounder's shoes, I would have ran the hell away right then and there and found home elsewhere

However, unlike with Stolas and Octavia, at least the narrative doesn't try to convince us that Robotnik loves his sons. Because if he did, he would have tried to change his behavior. Or better, he wouldn't have abused them IN THE FIRST PLACE! AT ALL! No matter what he had gone through! I'm not denying that his mom was a pos to him just like he's a pos to scratch and grounder, but i refuse to see this as an excuse. he should have tried his best to break the cycle of abuse

*sigh* Now I've gotta talk about that stupid bird man... let's just get this over with.

Stolas ⮕ Octavia

Stolas is shown to have been there for Via in her childhood. although we never see them bond over anything, connect emotionally with each other or spend quality time together, we've only got this one nightmare scene. this was the only time stolas was shown to care about octavia

He did his best to calm her down and make her feel safe, then proceeded to break his promise for a booty call. For a childhood "friend" that his father bought for him 25 years ago.

And you're telling me how Stolas didn't realize that bringing Blitzø along in Loo Loo Land is uh... a bad idea that will make his daughter feel even worse?

I HATE the excuse that Stolas was "just clueless." Because anyone with the tiniest bit of common sense would come to the same conclusion: flirting with your booty call in front of your daughter who is a minor and going through emotional hell that happened because you cheated on her mother makes you a horrible and selfish father.

Even worse is that Stolas doesn't learn his lesson and once again neglects Octavia. Stolas is too busy hating his ex wife and gushing over his abuse victim that he can't even be bothered to look for his daughter himself, and instead Loona has to be the one to go find her. And then she literally tells Via how her dad's trying his best and how she should cut him some slack. No. No she shouldn't. Octavia was right to think that Stolas hates Stella more than he loves her because that's what his actions show.

He can hug her all he wants and promise to do better but he has done nothing to even TRY to be better for this poor girl.

Not to mention that Loona is a hypocrite. Blitzø has always been doing his best to be a good dad to her, and she thanks him for saving her life by being a complete bitch. It's been five. Fucking. Years. Of unconditional love and support from Blitzø's side. And what does he get in return? A kick in the balls. Blitzø also got beat up by her and hit with the "if I'm so terrible why don't you replace me" after he rightfully called her out and you're trying to tell me Blitzø was the one in the wrong and how this isn't abusive huh ok then whatever ya say

I won't talk about the upcoming episode much. I honestly just don't have the strength anymore. But to make it as short as possible, Stolas is gonna be treated like an uwu poor sad gay boi and once again choose Blitzø, the guy he r*ped, over his own child.

If you check out the leaked story boards for s2 ep12, you'll see how disgusting it is that Via is spitting nothing but facts and yet she'll be demonized by the writers, Stolas lovers and Stolitz shippers. Just...

Please stop lying, dude. Just stop. You shattered her entire life and neglected her for a guy you abused and never got to know on a level that's deeper than sex. No wonder Via thinks he doesn’t love her anymore. The line above gives me the same vibe as THIS line also they made Stolas not only ACT like a guy who victimizes himself but LOOK that way too

STOP LYING. JUST SHUT UP.

I hate this self-pitying hypocrite sm.

And yeah, I get it: he was put in an arranged marriage (this was clearly a retcon, but whatever floats viv's boat) despite being gay and was sheltered and never had friends, but those are explanations for his behavior, not excuses.

Oh and, to anyone who thinks otherwise: Emotional neglect is a form of abuse.

Closing Thoughts

One important thing that I noticed with both Scratch and Grounder and Octavia, is how none of them feel at home with their fathers. A reliable way to know whether you've failed as a parent or not is to see how your behavior affects your kid(s). How does your behavior make them feel?

Let's see here... *checks notes*

Octavia says how Stolas ruined their family, not Stella and in ep12 she's finally gonna call him out on his bullshit thank god. but unfortunately the toxic gay ship will once again be a priority because it's gay

Scratch and Grounder are terrified of Robotnik's wrath, he constantly makes them feel useless and unwanted, but at the same time, they have no problem betraying him both of them always come back to him, just like how Blitzø doesn't leave his abuser because he wants to feel "loved" and "needed" for once even though Stolas treats him like shit

So yeah, if you made your kid(s) feel this way, you've officially failed as a father.

[rylem33]

The Cowboy Experience

I've been working on this one for a few days. I hope you enjoy. If you do, mosey on over to my blog (link on my Tumblr home page) and take a gander at the other 100+ stories I've written. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The dusty road stretched for miles in front of Sam and Drew as they bumped along in their rental car, the sprawling ranch just coming into view on the horizon. It was a hot day, and neither of them could deny their nervous excitement.

“So remind me why we’re here again?” Sam asked, squinting through the windshield at the vast landscape. His tone was dry, laced with a familiar sarcasm that had become second nature to him.

“Come on, Sam! It’s an adventure!” Drew’s grin was wide as he looked over, excitement radiating off him. “When else are we gonna get a chance like this? A whole weekend as cowboys! The ad made it sound like we’d learn everything from riding horses to branding cattle.” He paused, noting Sam’s dubious expression, and shrugged. “Alright, maybe the branding’s not what I’m looking forward to, but you know what I mean.”

Sam rolled his eyes but couldn’t help a smirk. “Yeah, yeah. But I still don’t see why we had to come all the way out to the middle of nowhere for it.” He looked around, watching as the horizon flickered with heat. “It’s not like we’re exactly…fit for ranch work.”

Drew laughed, nodding in agreement. “Exactly why we need to do it! Just think of it, Sam. A couple of city guys, totally out of our element, learning how to rough it. Besides, how bad can it be?” He leaned back, brushing dust from his shirt. “We could both use a break from the daily grind.”

Sam sighed, leaning back in his seat. “I’m not exactly dying to get sweaty and covered in…I don’t know, hay or dirt or whatever. But I guess it’ll make for a good story.”

“That’s the spirit!” Drew said, giving him a light punch on the arm. “I don’t know about you, but I’m looking forward to the work…feeling like I’m doing something instead of just being on my computer all day.”

Sam shook his head, raising an eyebrow. “I mean, I barely know how to tie a knot, let alone lasso a cow.”

Drew shrugged, his optimism unshaken. “You never know. This could be good for us. I’m just sayin’ to keep an open mind and all that.” He looked out the window as the gravel road wound them closer to the ranch buildings. “Besides, we don’t have to master it all. Just get a taste, you know?”

They both fell quiet as the main ranch building came into view, nestled between two old barns and a couple of wooden fences. The place looked rugged, like it had been there for a century and seen a lot more than two city boys could ever imagine.

“So, think they’re gonna go easy on us?” Sam asked, eyeing the impressive sprawl of land around them.

Drew snorted. “Not if they’re real cowboys, they won’t.”

They parked near a tall, weathered barn. The whole area was quiet, and the open field stretched far and wide, framed by mountains that gave the land a rugged beauty that even Sam couldn’t deny.

They stepped out of the car, stretching and taking in the stillness of the land around them. Sam felt an odd sense of peace but also an unease. He felt out of place. He glanced over at Drew, who seemed to be practically vibrating with anticipation.

“Okay, admit it,” Drew said, nudging Sam with his elbow. “You’re a little excited too, right?”

Sam shrugged, the smirk returning to his face. “Fine. A little. But mostly nervous.”

Just then, the loud creak of a door broke through the quiet, drawing both of their eyes toward the barn. Emerging from the shadows was a tall, broad-shouldered man with a thick gray mustache, a cowboy hat tilted low over his eyes. He walked with a confident, unhurried swagger, his boots stirring up small clouds of dust as he approached.

He looked Sam and Drew up and down, taking in their city clothes, clean shoes, and the faint hesitation in their eyes. After a moment, he let out a low chuckle. “Well, ain’t this somethin’. Couple of city boys out here tryin’ to be cowhands, huh?” He shook his head, smirking. “Don’t get many like you two out here. Tell me, boys, you even know the front end of a horse from the back?”

Drew laughed nervously, scratching the back of his head. “Well, we’re here to learn. I mean, that’s why we signed up, right?”

“Right,” he replied, his gaze landing on Sam, who was watching him with a growing frown. “The name’s Hank and I’ll be supervising you two.”

“Just a heads-up,” Hank continued, “ranch work’s not exactly for soft hands and fancy talk. Out here, you’re gonna get dirt on you, you’re gonna sweat, and it’s probably gonna hurt. Think you can handle that?”

Sam’s frown deepened, and he muttered, “We didn’t come all this way to sit around and sip cocktails.”

Hank’s eyes flickered with something that might’ve been amusement or irritation, it was hard to tell. “Cocktails, huh?” he repeated with a mocking drawl. “Figures.”

Drew chuckled, a bit nervous. “We’ll keep up, Hank. Promise.”

Hank shook his head, muttering something under his breath. He looked back at Sam, then Drew, with a smirk. “You boys think you’re up for it? Alright then. Let’s see if we can’t knock some of that city slick off ya.” Reaching behind him, he pulled out two well-worn cowboy hats, holding them out with a flourish.

He offered one to each of them, looking them dead in the eyes as they took them. “Here. Maybe these’ll make men out of ya.”

Drew took his hat eagerly.  It was  broad and rugged, with a wide brim and a dark, weathered band that looked like it had seen its fair share of hard days.  He grinned as he pulled it down over his hair. “Thanks, Hank,” he said, voice laced with excitement. “This is great.”

Sam’s hat, on the other hand, was noticeably different. The brim was slightly narrower, with a lighter color that gave it a softer look. Sam held the hat with uncertainty before placing it on his head. It sat high on his head and he wondered if he’d drawn the short straw, or if Hank had done this on purpose.

Drew let out a small laugh, nudging Sam. “Hey, look at us! Starting to blend in already, right?”

Hank gave a snort. “Ain’t so sure about that. Those hats don’t make you cowboys. But, maybe, just maybe, they’ll remind you to quit fussin’ about and get to work.”

Drew chuckled, but Sam’s jaw tightened, and he met Hank’s gaze directly. “Thanks for the tip,” he said, his tone dry. The nerve of this guy, Sam thought. Just because they weren’t born on a ranch didn’t mean they couldn’t pull their weight.

Hank smirked, clearly amused by Sam’s pushback. He tipped his own hat down slightly, eyes twinkling. “Tell ya what, why don’t you start by hauling those bales of hay over to the barn,” he drawled, jerking his head toward a stack of hay bales. “A few hours of that, and we’ll see if you’re still eager to play cowboy.”

Drew looked to Sam, shrugging with a grin. “Guess we’re on hay duty.”

Sam sighed, his jaw set, and muttered, “Yeah, let’s get to it.” 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

The morning’s work was rough, but Drew was determined to keep going. The sun was relentless, and sweat was already dripping down his back by the time they’d dragged the first few bales halfway across the yard. He glanced over at Sam, who was keeping up but looking more out of sorts with every passing minute.

Sam had paused to press a hand to his forehead, muttering something under his breath that Drew didn’t catch. His movements were off, like he was distracted or unsteady, and when he tugged at his shirt collar, Drew noticed something odd in the way he did it.

“You good?” Drew called out, hoisting another bale onto his shoulder.

“Yeah,” Sam replied, brushing off the concern, though his voice sounded different. Drew tilted his head. It wasn’t anything obvious, but there was something in Sam’s tone that hadn’t been there before. He shook it off.

They kept at it, the sun beating down as they worked. Drew powered through, but his eyes kept drifting back to Sam. He couldn’t help it, there was something about the way Sam was moving that didn’t seem…right. His gestures, the way he stood, even the faint lilt in his voice when he muttered complaints under his breath.

At one point, Sam unbuttoned his shirt halfway, letting it hang loose. “This sun sure don’t mess around,” he muttered, and Drew froze mid-step.

The words were fine on the surface, but the way Sam said them was different. There was a faint drawl sneaking in at the edges. If Drew hadn’t been listening so closely, he might not have noticed, but now that he had, it stuck out like a sore thumb.

Drew frowned, squinting at his friend. “You’re sure you’re alright? You’re talking kinda funny.”

Sam turned toward him, blinking as if he’d just woken up. “Funny how?” he asked, sounding as normal as ever. Drew started to feel like maybe he’d imagined it.

“I dunno,” Drew replied, shaking his head. “Forget it. Let’s just keep going.”

By midday, Drew couldn’t hold back anymore. He dropped his bale and walked over to Sam, who had paused to rest against the fence, his hip cocked slightly with one hand resting on his thigh. 

“Sam,” Drew said, his voice low. “You notice anything…weird about how you’re acting?”

Sam cut him off with a laugh, shaking his head. “Drew, I think the sun’s getting to you,” he said. “You’re making stuff up.”

Drew frowned but didn’t push. The thing was, Sam didn’t seem to notice what he was doing. It was like the moment Drew brought it up, Sam snapped back to normal, but when he wasn’t paying attention, those little changes sneaked back in.

Before Drew could figure out what to say, Hank’s voice rang out across the yard. “Y’all takin’ a break already?”

Drew turned to see Hank strolling over, that ever-present smirk plastered on his face. “I figured a couple’a city boys might’ve lasted longer, but look at you,” he said, his eyes landing on Sam. “You doin’ alright there, sugar?”

Drew glanced at Sam, who stiffened slightly, his hand going to his hip in a way Drew couldn’t help but notice. “Just gettin’ used to it,” Sam said, his tone oddly sweet.

Hank chuckled, crossing his arms. “If you can’t handle a little sweat, maybe you belong in the kitchen, sugar.”

Drew stepped in, voice firm. “Hey, lay off him, Hank. We’re just new to this.”

Hank shrugged, unfazed. “Just playin’, son. Ain’t no harm in it. But if he’s gonna talk like a lady, he oughta get used to bein’ called one.”

Drew clenched his jaw, glancing at Sam. But instead of snapping back like he normally would, Sam just brushed his hair back again and gave a small, tight smile.

Drew stepped closer, lowering his voice as Hank walked away. “Sam, I’m serious. Something’s off. You don’t usually act like this.”

Sam just laughed, brushing it off. “You’re overthinkin’ it, Drew. I’m fine. It’s just the sun.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------

The afternoon sun beat down on Sam and Drew as they hauled fence posts, sweat soaking through their shirts. The work was exhausting, every muscle in Sam’s body aching from the effort, but something about it felt different now. He couldn’t explain it, but the exhaustion wasn’t just physical, his mind felt off.

Sam paused, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. “This sun’s brutal,” he muttered, his voice softer than he’d intended. He cringed slightly at the sound, clearing his throat and shaking his head. “Almost makes me miss the city.” That sounded better, closer to his normal self.

Drew grunted in agreement, hefting another fence post onto his shoulder. “Yeah, no kidding. Can’t remember the last time I sweated this much.”

Sam chuckled weakly, tying his open shirt at the front to keep it out of the way. The motion felt instinctive, practical, but as soon as he caught the knot in his peripheral vision, something about it felt…wrong. He tried to brush it off, but the knot nagged at him, and his thoughts started spiraling again. He quickly untied it.

He stole a glance at Drew, wondering if he’d noticed, but Drew was focused on the post. Sam let out a quiet breath, relieved. Get a grip, he told himself, reaching for another post.

The longer they worked, the harder it became to hold onto that grip. His thoughts felt slippery, like they were being pulled in two directions at once. On the surface, he was focused on the task of lifting, hauling, and sweating under the sun. But underneath, there was something else. A part of him that wanted to move differently, to speak differently. It was subtle, but it was there, whispering at the edges of his mind.

“Sam,” Drew’s voice cut through his thoughts, making him jump slightly. “You okay? You’ve been kinda…quiet.”

Sam straightened up, forcing a quick laugh. “Yeah, just beat,” he said, his tone casual. “You know how it is….work like this’ll knock the wind outta anyone.” He grinned, trying to project confidence, but Drew kept looking at him, his brow furrowing slightly.

“You sure? You sound a little…I don’t know, off,” Drew said, tilting his head.

Sam clenched his jaw, forcing himself to stay calm. “I’m fine, Drew,” he said, a bit sharper than he meant to. But even as the words came out, he caught himself adding, “Don’t fuss over me, alright?” The softness in the last part of his sentence made his stomach twist. He turned away quickly, busying himself with the next bale before Drew could press further.

As they wrestled with a particularly stubborn fence post, Hank strolled over, his ever-present smirk already in place. “Well, ain’t this a sight,” Hank drawled, leaning casually against the fence. “Couple’a city boys finally gettin’ their hands dirty.” His gaze lingered on Sam, and Sam felt an immediate spike of irritation.

“Just tryin’ to get the job done,” Sam said, keeping his tone steady.

Hank’s smirk widened. “Looks like you’re finally gettin’ the hang of it, sugar. Just don’t strain yourself.”

Sam felt the heat rise to his cheeks.  It wasn’t from embarrassment, but from the sharp stab of annoyance. “Maybe I’d do a better job at runnin’ this ranch than you, old man,” he shot back before he could stop himself.

The words came out sassier than he’d intended, with a slight lilt at the end that sounded nothing like him. Drew’s head snapped toward him, his face a mix of surprise and confusion, but Hank just laughed.

“You’ve got fire in you now, don’t ya, darlin’?” Hank said, his tone mockingly sweet. He leaned closer, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “Might wanna watch that attitude, sugar. Could get you in trouble ‘round here.”

Sam’s hands tightened on the fence post as he fought to steady his thoughts. The fire Hank was talking about….it was there, burning hotter with every word. It made him want to snap back again, to say something cutting, but he clenched his jaw, forcing himself to keep quiet.

“You don’t scare me,” Sam finally said, his voice steady, though he could hear the faint hint of a drawl creeping in at the edges.

Hank let out a low chuckle, leaning back. “Don’t say I didn’t warn ya, sweetheart,” he said, tipping his hat before sauntering off.

As soon as Hank was out of earshot, Drew turned to Sam, his expression serious. “What the hell was that?”

“What?” Sam asked, feigning ignorance as he picked up the next post.

“You don’t usually talk like that,” Drew said, his eyes narrowing. “The way you’re acting, the way you’re talking.”

Sam forced a laugh, trying to brush it off. “You’re overthinking it,” he said, his tone lighter. “I’m just messing with him. Guy’s got it comin’, don’t you think?” He tried to sound casual, but the way Drew kept staring made him uneasy.

Drew didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t push further. “Whatever you say,” he muttered, grabbing another post.

Sam turned away, his grin faltering as soon as Drew couldn’t see his face. He let out a slow breath, his hands tightening into fists. Keep it together, he thought. This isn’t you. You’re fine.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

The sun had barely sunk below the horizon when Hank finally called it a day. Sam’s muscles burned, and his skin was streaked with dirt and sweat, but the tiredness felt good somehow, like he’d accomplished something real. Hard, honest work. He glanced over at Drew, who looked tired but satisfied as well.

“Alright, city boys,” Hank said, smirking as he gestured toward the bunkhouse. “Time to wash up and meet me out by the fire. Dinner’s in an hour. Try not to take too long, princess,” he added, giving Sam a pointed look.

For once, Sam didn’t bother shooting back a reply. He just smiled. When he glanced over at Drew, he caught his friend staring at him with a confused look. Sam just shrugged, flashing him a quick grin as he turned toward the bunkhouse. He caught himself swaying his hips slightly as he walked. Stop that, he thought sharply, forcing his gait back to something resembling normal. 

Sam stepped into the bunkhouse, towel slung over his shoulder, his muscles aching from the day’s labor. The soreness was real, but it wasn’t the only thing he felt. He looked in the mirror and noticed his shirt was knotted again.  When did I do that?

Closing the door behind him, Sam let out a long breath and stripped off his sweaty clothes, tossing them aside without a second thought. The cool air on his skin sent a shiver down his spine.  He was filthy.  Nothing a nice shower can’t fix.

He turned on the shower and stepped under the warm spray. The water cascaded over him, and for a moment, he just stood there, letting it wash away the dirt and sweat of the day. His shoulders relaxed, and he exhaled slowly. But as the water streamed over his skin, he couldn’t ignore the strange sensitivity coursing through him.

He ran his hands over his arms, scrubbing at the grime, but the touch felt different…more intense. His fingertips brushed against his chest, and he gasped softly, startled by the sudden wave of sensation. What the hell… he thought, but his hands kept moving, almost on their own.

As he rubbed his chest, his fingers grazed his nipples, and a sharp jolt of pleasure shot through him. He froze, gripping the wall for support as heat surged through his body. His breath quickened, his mind scrambling to process what was happening. Slowly, his free hand moved downward, brushing over his stomach, his hips, and lower still.

His skin was changing under his hands. As he rubbed along his chest and arms, faint patches of body hair slid away, clinging to his fingers before vanishing down the drain. His skin beneath was smooth and soft, impossibly sensitive.

One hand drifted back to his chest, fingers circling his nipples again as small, firm buds began to push against his palm. The warmth in his chest was undeniable, and as he glanced down, he saw the faint beginnings of breasts taking shape.

A sharp tingling sensation at his fingertips drew his attention, and he watched in stunned silence as his nails grew longer, the edges sharpening into pointed tips that glistened in the water. He flexed his hands, staring at the elegant curve of his new nails as they glided over his chest, tracing the roundness of his budding breasts.

His other hand moved lower, almost instinctively, brushing against his groin. The touch sent a wave of pleasure through him so sharp it made his knees buckle slightly. He steadied himself against the wall. His penis felt smaller in his hand, softer, and each stroke seemed to shrink it further. The sensation was overwhelming, electric, almost addictive.

The changes didn’t stop there. He felt a pull at his scalp, the tingling spreading to his hair. As the water poured over him, his hair lengthened, sliding down over his shoulders in soft, damp waves. He reached up to touch it, his fingers sliding through the silky strands, the sensation making his stomach flutter.

Sam’s mind reeled as the changes continued, spreading through his body like wildfire. His waist narrowed, his hips flared slightly, and his butt filled out, pressing against the curve of the shower wall. His stance felt different, his balance shifting as his thighs thickened, smooth and soft. Every touch of his hands sent shivers through him, and the heat building in his core made it harder and harder to think clearly.

No, he told himself, squeezing his eyes shut as though that would make it stop. He shook his head, trying to push away the thoughts creeping into his mind. Thoughts that told him this felt good, that he should just let it happen.

He gritted his teeth, forcing his hands away from his body and gripping the edges of the shower wall instead. The water pounded against him, grounding him just enough to steady his racing heart.

When he finally turned off the water, he stood there for a moment, catching his breath. His heart was pounding, his body trembling, but the heat was beginning to fade. Slowly, he reached for the towel, drying himself off without glancing in the mirror. He didn’t need to see. He knew.

His chest felt heavier, the faint swell of his breasts undeniable. His skin was smooth all over. And though he avoided looking down, he could feel the change between his legs.

He wrapped the towel around his waist, pressing a hand to his chest as if trying to steady his racing heart. Get a grip, he thought, clenching his jaw. But deep down the way his body hummed.

When he stepped out, clean and refreshed, his eyes fell on a small bench beside the sink, where a fresh outfit lay folded neatly…a snug, fitted top and a pair of denim jeans. He didn’t remember packing anything like it, but the sight of them didn’t surprise him. Nothing really did right now.

Without a second thought, he slipped them on, tugging the top over his head. It clung to him, accentuating his smaller waist and the gentle curve of his torso, while the jeanshugged his hips perfectly, sitting low on his thighs.  The pair of leather boots slipped on perfectly.

The wide-brimmed cowboy hat sat waiting on the counter, and he grabbed it, settling it back onto his head. He tilted the brim down slightly, flashing himself a confident smirk in the mirror.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Drew sat by the campfire, adjusting his hat and staring into the flames, his jaw clenched tight. His mind spun, replaying the events of the day. Something was happening to Sam and yet Sam didn’t seem to notice.  Or maybe he didn’t care. That thought made Drew’s stomach churn with frustration, though he couldn’t quite say why.

Footsteps on the dirt drew his attention, and when he looked up, his breath caught. Sam was walking toward him, silhouetted by the firelight, and Drew immediately felt his pulse quicken. Sam’s tied-up shirt clung to his waist, showing off a toned stomach, and his hips swayed in a way that Drew couldn’t believe he was seeing. He looked…Drew shook his head. No, this wasn’t right.

Sam settled down beside him with an easy grin, tipping his hat back slightly as he turned to face Drew. Drew couldn’t help but notice Sam’s face was different too.  Softer, smoother.

“What’s the matter, Drew?” Sam asked, his voice light, teasing, almost sing-song. “You act like you’ve never seen a girl before.”

Drew’s jaw tightened, and he forced himself to look away, staring hard at the flames. “You’re not a girl,” he muttered, his voice rough.

Sam just laughed softly, clearly unbothered. “Are you sure about that?,” he said, his tone playful as he adjusted his hat.

Drew turned sharply, his frustration flaring. “What are you even talking about?” he snapped, his voice louder than he meant. “This isn’t funny, Sam. You’re acting like…like all of this is normal, like you don’t even care.”

Sam shrugged, running a hand casually down the front of his shirt, smoothing the fabric. “Guess the ranch agrees with me,” he said with a smirk.

Drew’s hands clenched into fists, the roughness of his skin scraping against his palms. He could feel his body tensing, his muscles tight. His thoughts grew hazier, sharper, and more heated with every second Sam sat there, grinning like nothing was wrong.

Before he could say more, Hank’s low chuckle broke the tension. “Well, ain’t you lookin’ like a queen tonight,” Hank drawled from across the fire. He took a slow sip from his flask, his eyes lingering on Sam. “That hat suits ya, sugar. Like you were born to wear it.”

Drew’s jaw clenched so tightly it hurt. Hank’s words should have sounded ridiculous, but they didn’t. The way Sam leaned into the comment, tilting his hat and grinning, only made it worse. Drew’s frustration burned hotter.

“Maybe I am,” Sam fired back, his voice brash. “And maybe this place could use someone like me runnin’ things ‘round here.”

Drew couldn’t believe what he was hearing. His best friend, the guy he’d known forever, was sitting there acting like this….like he belonged in this…this new role.

Hank chuckled, clearly unfazed, his gaze flicking between Sam and Drew. “Queen of the ranch, huh? Guess we’ll see if that attitude lasts. Thing about queens out here,” he added with a lazy grin, “they need keepin’ in line.”

Drew felt something snap. A hot surge of frustration and anger bubbled up inside him, and for a moment, he didn’t recognize the thoughts in his own head. Sam needed to be put in his place.

Drew shifted in his seat, the weight of his cowboy hat pressing down on him like it was part of him now. “Maybe Hank’s right,” he muttered, the words rough, almost growled. “Can’t go acting like you own the place, Sam.”

Sam raised an eyebrow, his grin widening as he leaned back, completely unfazed. “Oh, really? And who’s gonna stop me, you?” His tone was challenging, daring, and it set Drew’s teeth on edge.

Drew’s muscles tightened, his broad shoulders squaring as he leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping lower. “Maybe someone does need to,” he said, the words coming out with a strange, unfamiliar authority.

Hank chuckled again, clearly pleased. “Hear that, son? Your friend’s actin’ like she’s in charge. Might be time you stepped up.”

Drew wanted to laugh it off, to snap back at Hank and defend Sam like he normally would, but something in Hank’s words felt…right. He nodded slowly, his lips curling into a faint, tense smile. “Yeah,” he muttered, his voice rougher now, almost unrecognizable.

Sam laughed, bold and carefree, but Drew caught a flicker of something in his eyes. “You all can think whatcha want,” Sam said, throwing his hands up with a shrug. “I’m just havin’ some fun.”

That did it. Drew couldn’t hold back any longer. He pushed himself up from the log, his boots kicking up dirt as he stood. His mouth set in a hard line, his voice sharp. “I don’t get it, Sam,” he said, his tone steady and rough. “You’re just acting like…like none of this matters. Like you don’t even care what’s happening to you.”

Sam’s grin faltered for a moment, but it came back quickly, more forced this time. “Guess I just know how to handle myself,” he said, tossing Drew a flippant look. “Maybe you should give it a try, cowboy.”

Drew’s jaw clenched as heat burned through him. Without another word, he spun on his heel and stormed off into the darkness.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sam watched Drew storm off.  She knew her friend was upset, but had a hard time caring.  Instead, she tipped her hat back and watch the flames of the fire dance. Her body felt warm, but she wasn’t that close to the fire.

Hank sat across from her, his gaze moving over her with curiosity. “Ranch life seems to suit you just fine, doesn’t it?” he drawled, taking a sip from his flask.

Sam let out a low chuckle, her voice softer, smoother than it had been that morning. She could feel the changes in her body.  The way her hips felt fuller against the fabric of her shorts, the narrow of her waist. The way her top clung to her chest, and as she shifted, she felt the unmistakable weight of her now-full breasts.

“Guess it does,” she replied, tipping her hat with a confident smirk, the flirtatious edge in her voice surprising even her. She crossed her legs, feeling the softness of her thighs, the way her skin seemed to glow in the firelight.

Hank watched her, a grin tugging at his mouth. “Ain’t every day we get a queen of the ranch around here,” he murmured, as if he was stating a simple fact.

Sam didn’t reply. She just flashed Hank a smile, feeling his gaze follow her as she stood up from the fire. The night air was cool against her skin, but her body felt feverish, alive with a need that grew with every step back to the bunkhouse.

Each shift of her hips, each brush of her thighs as she moved, only intensified the sensation. Every inch of her body was humming as if it had been waiting to be touched, to be explored.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Drew stormed into his bunkhouse room, slamming the door behind him hard enough to rattle the frame. His fists were clenched, and his jaw was tight as he paced the small space, boots thudding against the wooden floor. Anger coursed through him, hot and unrelenting, but underneath it, something else simmered.

He couldn’t stop thinking about Sam. About the way she had strutted up to the fire like she owned the place, the way her grin had practically dared him to say something. Her boldness, her confidence, her body. Drew shook his head sharply, trying to push the image out of his mind, but it lingered, vivid and consuming.

“Dammit,” he muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair as he dropped onto the edge of the bed. His body felt too hot, too tense, like his skin didn’t fit right. He pressed his hands to his knees, taking deep breaths, but it didn’t help. The frustration inside him wasn’t just anger. It was something deeper, something raw and primal.

His thoughts spun faster, images of Sam flashing in his mind: the curve of her hips, the way her shirt had hugged her waist, the fire in her eyes when she’d talked back to Hank. It was infuriating, and yet… Drew groaned, leaning forward as his head sank into his hands. What the hell is wrong with me?

A sudden, sharp heat surged through his body, pulling his thoughts back to the present. His muscles felt tight, like they were straining against his skin, and when he looked down, his forearms seemed…bigger. His sleeves strained against his biceps, the fabric pulling taut.

“What the—” he breathed, standing up quickly. His boots hit the floor heavier than usual, and as he moved to the mirror on the far wall, he froze. His reflection looked…different. His shoulders were broader, his chest thicker, his frame carrying an undeniable weight and bulk that hadn’t been there an hour ago.

Drew ran a hand down his chest, feeling the hard lines of muscle under his shirt. His hand was rougher, his fingers thicker, and as he flexed them, he felt a strange satisfaction settle into his gut. His shirt strained against his back, the seams creaking slightly as his chest expanded further.

“What the hell is happenin’?” he muttered, but his voice sounded different…deeper, rougher, commanding.

Before he could dwell on it, a sound from the next room caught his attention. A soft moan, muffled but unmistakable. Drew stiffened, his pulse quickening. He moved toward the wall, his breath catching as another sound drifted through…this one sharper, higher.

Sam.

. . . . . . . . .

Sam entered her room, shutting the door behind her with shaky hands. Her body felt like it was on fire, every inch of her thrumming with an energy that was impossible to ignore. Her breathing was shallow, her legs trembling as she peeled off her fitted top and let it drop to the floor.

Her hands brushed over the small buds that had formed earlier, but as her fingers lingered, she could feel them swell, her flesh softening and rounding under her palms. Her breath hitched, and she bit her lip, both shocked and thrilled by the sensation. She cupped them fully now, the weight of her breasts growing heavier, the skin sensitive as her nipples hardened at the faintest touch.

She sank onto the edge of the mattress, her hands drifting down to her thighs. Her fingers traced over her skin, softer now, her curves more pronounced. She let out a soft moan as her hands slid further, brushing against the growing roundness of her hips, her waist pinching inward.

Her shorts felt tighter than they had moments ago, the fabric straining against her fuller thighs and her butt, which now pressed firmly into the mattress. She reached down, tugging the shorts off in a single motion, shivering as the cool air hit her skin. Her hands instinctively explored her body, gliding over her smooth thighs, the new curves of her hips, and the swell of her rear.  She squirmed with arousal.

As her fingers brushed against her wet slit, Sam gasped, the sensitivity there unlike anything she’d ever felt. Her back arched slightly, her chest heaving as her hand dipped lower, teasing the folds that were now fully formed, warm and slick with need. Her other hand rose to her chest, fingers circling her full, round breasts, squeezing and kneading them as her hips rocked instinctively.

. . . . . . . . .

The soft moans grew clearer, drifting into Drew’s room.He felt himself harden, his body responding before his mind even caught up. It was impossible to resist.  The sounds were pulling him in, and he couldn’t stop himself as he reached down, hand brushing against his erection. It felt thicker, fuller in his grasp, a surge of heat spreading through him as he stroked himself in time with each moan he heard from Sam’s room. 

. . . . . . . . .

Sam caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, her flushed face framed by hair that now fell in soft waves around her shoulders. Her features had shifted subtly, her cheekbones higher, her lips fuller, her eyes wide and expressive. It was the kind of face that turned heads, the kind of face that exuded confidence and allure. She couldn’t look away, even as her fingers worked faster, exploring every inch of her new body.

Her hips bucked as her fingers slid inside her, the sensation sending waves of pleasure through her. She moaned loudly, her body trembling as the heat built higher, her movements more desperate. Her thighs quivered, the softness of her skin amplifying every touch, every stroke, until the pressure became too much to bear.

She let herself lean into the feeling, letting her hands roam, feeling out every inch of this body that was hers.  She didn’t care how loud she was being, the boys could think what they want.  She was going to enjoy this night.

. . . . . . . . .

Drew’s strokes became synchronized with Sam’s moans, each breath and whimper guiding his hand. The walls seemed too thin, every gasp and sigh fueling his desire further. His muscles tensed, a raw energy pulsing through his veins with each breath he took. He could feel his arms tighten, his chest, his legs.

. . . . . . . . .

When the climax hit, her body arched, her head tilting back as a loud, primal scream escaped her lips. Pleasure rolled through her in waves, leaving her gasping and trembling as she collapsed back onto the bed, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

A slow, satisfied smile spread across her lips. 

. . . . . . . . .

The final, sharp cry from the other side of the wall broke him. Drew’s head tilted back, his eyes closing as a guttural groan tore from his throat. Heat surged through him like a wildfire, his body trembling as every muscle contracted at once. His jeans strained against his legs, his shirt pulling tight across his chest until he thought it might tear.

Drew sat there, staring at himself, his breaths steadying as a strange satisfaction settled over him. He was bigger now. His chest was broader, his arms thicker, his entire frame exuding a rugged power. The anger had melted away, leaving only the heat…and the lingering need to see Sam again.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Drew woke slowly, the morning light slipping through the window. His body felt…heavy. Solid. Good. As he blinked into awareness, he stretched, feeling muscles strain and relax beneath his skin, muscles he hadn’t had before. He felt…right in a way he couldn’t quite explain.

Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, Drew planted his feet on the floor, and the thud of his weight against the wood was audible. He looked down at his hands… larger, rougher, thick with strength he could feel pulsing under the skin. His gaze drifted to the mirror on the wall, and he rose, his movements sure and steady. When he saw his reflection, he couldn’t hold back a slow grin.

Broad shoulders, defined muscles, a rugged face shadowed with stubble. All of it looked back at him with a natural confidence, a swagger. As he took himself in, thoughts rose, unbidden and clear of long days of work under the sun, the satisfaction of hard labor, the thrill of chasing wild times, and, just as clearly, the tantalizing image of women watching him, drawn to him. Hot women, tempting him, and pleasuring him.

His mind latched onto these ideas with satisfaction. What else mattered, anyway? And one woman in particular drifted into his mind. Sam. The way she’d changed, the way she’d looked at him last night with that teasing, sassy edge in her voice.  It made his pulse quicken just to think about it. She’s mine to handle now, he thought, the idea lighting up something deep and primal in him.

As he glanced at the clothes draped over the chair.  A pair of worn jeans, a white shirt, sturdy boots, that were not there the night before.  The clothes fit him perfectly.  Last, he picked up his hat, settling it on his head with a grin. 

His mind drifted back to Sam, her laugh, her confidence, that bold look she’d given him. He wanted to see her. He wanted to see if she’d look at him with that same fire. He wanted to see what would happen next.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

The morning sun was bright, casting a warm glow over the ranch as Drew’s gaze locked onto Sam by the fence. She stood there, her toned, tanned body framed by a tight, cropped top that barely covered her full, round breasts. Her midriff was bare, the curves of her waist and hips on full display above a pair of frayed, low-cut denim shorts that hugged her hips perfectly. A wide-brimmed cowboy hat shaded her face, though the fire in her eyes was unmistakable, and a teasing smile played on her full, glossy lips.

Sam turned, her smile widening as she saw him, her eyes traveling slowly up and down his body, openly admiring him in a way that drove him wild.

“Morning, cowboy,” she purred, her voice smooth and dripping with playful confidence. She stepped closer, her hips swaying, her hands casually resting on her thighs. “Didn’t think you’d be up this early, but I can’t say I’m disappointed.”

Drew swallowed, trying to find his voice. “Good company’s worth getting up for,” he replied, his voice rougher than usual, his pulse pounding as he closed the distance between them until they were just inches apart. He could feel her warmth, see the flush on her cheeks, and knew she was feeling the same pull he was.

“Good company, huh?” Sam raised an eyebrow, giving him a playful look. “Maybe I’m just here for the view.” She tilted her head, her eyes flicking over him in a way that made his chest tighten.

Drew didn’t waste time. He reached out, his hand brushing against her cheek, his fingers tracing along her jaw. Her skin was warm and soft, her eyes widening slightly as she met his intense gaze. “I think we both know you’re here for more than that,” he murmured, his voice low and steady as he traced his thumb along her cheekbone. He could feel her lean into his touch, her breathing quickening, her lips parting just slightly.

Sam didn’t pull away. “Maybe I am,” she murmured, her gaze locked on his. She raised a hand to his chest, her fingers pressing against him, feeling the solid muscle beneath his shirt. “So what are you going to do about it?”

Without another word, Drew leaned in, capturing her mouth in a firm, hungry kiss. She responded immediately, her hands sliding up around his neck, pulling him closer. His grip tightened on her waist, his hands exploring her curves, feeling her hips, her bare midriff, the smooth skin beneath his fingertips. Her body fit perfectly against his, their breaths mixing as the kiss deepened.

He pulled back just slightly, their faces still close, their breathing heavy. “That’s how I start a morning,” he whispered, his voice rough with desire.

Sam looked up at him, her lips parted, her eyes dark with want. “Then don’t stop now, sugar,” she whispered back, her fingers curling around the front of his shirt, pulling him closer. “I’m right here.”

Drew didn’t need another invitation. His hand gripped her waist harder, pulling her tight against him as he kissed her again, harder this time, his hands sliding down to her hips, pressing her against him. Their shared passion built, and as they moved, he slid his hands up to the hem of her cropped top, tugging it over her head and tossing it aside, exposing her fully to him. She let out a soft gasp as he lifted her, guiding her back toward the nearby hay pile.

They sank down together, both of them fumbling to discard the rest of their clothes, each piece coming off in a hurry, laughter and heated breaths filling the air. Drew’s hands roamed over her bare skin, his lips trailing down her neck as he leaned into her. When he entered her, she let out a sharp, breathless moan, her hips pressing up to meet him, her nails digging into his back as she clung to him.

As their pace increased, her soft gasps turned into cries, filling the quiet morning with her pleasure. She wrapped her legs around him, pulling him closer as she reached her peak, her body arching beneath him. She let out a final, triumphant scream, her whole body trembling as waves of pleasure washed over her.

Drew slowed, a satisfied smile tugging at his lips as he looked down at her, his breathing heavy. “You’re somethin’ else, you know that?” he murmured, his voice low as he brushed a strand of hair from her face, letting his hand linger on her cheek, savoring the closeness between them.

Sam laughed softly, her smile softening as she looked up at him, her eyes filled with warmth. “Right back at you, cowboy.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------

The sun climbed higher as Drew and Sam worked side by side, shoveling hay and clearing out the horse pen. They didn’t talk much, but every now and then they’d glance at each other, sharing a quiet smile. Sometimes their hands brushed or their shoulders bumped, and each time, they’d grin a little wider, like they were in on the same joke.

Just as they finished, Hank walked over, a smirk on his face as he looked them over. He leaned against the fence, crossing his arms. “Well, look at you two,” he said, voice full of dry humor. “Looks like you’re gettin’ a real, authentic cowboy experience around here. Hope you’re enjoying yourselves.”

Drew rested his arm on his shovel, his other hand slipping casually to Sam’s back, his thumb rubbing along the fabric of her shirt. “Wouldn’t trade it for nothin’, Hank,” he replied, giving Hank a steady look.

Sam laughed softly, tilting her hat back. “Reckon this life fits us just right, don’t it?”

Hank chuckled, tipping his hat to them both. “Well, don’t let me interrupt,” he said, the hint of a smile in his eye. “But there’s plenty more work to go ‘round, just so you know.” With that, he turned and headed back toward the barn.

As he left, Sam turned to Drew, her eyes warm as she looked up at him, still smiling. Drew slipped his hand around her waist and pulled her close, his touch firm but gentle. They looked at each other for a beat, and then he leaned down, pressing his lips to hers in an easy, unhurried kiss.

When they pulled back, they were both still smiling. For a moment, they just stayed there, holding onto each other before getting back to work.

[gingergofastboatsmojito]

Pretty in pink

Another reason why I always knew Clairmy was never gonna be endgame.

This piece of meta has been sitting in my drafts for months. Since I watched S2 for the first time, back in January. After yesterday's teaser, I thought I just might dust it off and hang it out to dry in the sun, so here it is and actually, this is much better timing because I get to supplement it with more and newer meta I came up with later on.

So, the second I heard the first few tunes of the soundtrack I just knew.

The Bear | Pop | 02x05

Storer wasn't subtle.

I just knew that C was gonna end up with someone else, or just letting him go, and when I heard Carmy saying these words:

and they rang soooo untrue and unhinged and even forced or coaxed coming from him and in that context, so OOC, etc... I took it as all the confirmation I needed to firmly stand my anti-clairmy ground even before I got to know her.

It was obvious to me that that was not Carmen Berzatto talking, but The Bear Jr., the kid in HS who grew up isolated and under Michael's shadow.

He was coming from a place of complete and utter stuckness, a stagnant position he regressed to, the second his frustrated HS sweetheart won this battle:

He wasn't necessarily lying when he said he liked her, at least not consciously:

But the TENSE was the problem. He said "I like you so much" when it was the HS stuttery kid the one talking, the one who wished SHE talked to him more, so he didn't have to because he was too shy. He should have said liked if he was being honest with himself and her.

He should have told her something along the lines of: "I had a crush on you in HS, and when you came onto me, I choked. This is so not the right timing for me to do this because I'm tied up with the restaurant, and I just... instead of telling you all of that, I took the easy and cowardly way out and gave you the wrong number. Sorry."

BTW, that's a pattern he will have to outgrow because of Syd if he doesn't wanna lose her. He will have to start telling the woman he loves in proper timing how he feels and why and do the chasing if he must because Syd, unlike C, is NOT A CHASER, she's a walker (pattern she will have to outgrow herself too, as I mentioned → here). No more room for the shy kid, he's gonna have to man up in S4.

After delivering those lines that to me were OOC and plain blatant, he turned into Logan to fit in the party and in C's life (or make her fit into his, whatever).

So, my point is that when I heard the Pretty in Pink soundtrack I immediately drew these parallels:

Duckie is Carmy and Andy is the C person. IDGAF who was gonna play Blane, I assumed that character was gonna be introduced to us later in the series, or not at all. But Andie and Duckie do not end up together because they are not right for each other even though they grew up together. They are just not right for each other because coming from the same place doesn't determine shit in life, the choices you make do. In the movie, they didn't choose each other. PerioT. That was a hell of a musical foreshadowing and I thank the sadist for it because the second I associated that musical piece of data with ep 01x03 I was like: “OK, how much more obvious can you be, Storer? Really? Try harder, please.”

Because why would he give Molly Ringwald such important lines in S1 if Pretty in Pink was not a huge lead we needed to follow in S2 when the same plot of one of her biggest hits made a cameo on the show, right?

So, anyway... I always knew these 2 were endgame:

Waayyyy before Syd said it. Actually, Syd didn't say it bc we don't know who she was talking about, it was STORER who did that in the teaser, HE IS THE ONE WHO SYNCS UP THE MUSIC WITH THE FRAMES OR SIGNS OFF ON WHAT THE EDITORS SYNC UP AS PER HIS REQUEST AND HE'S THE ONE WHO DECIDES WHO ARE ENDGAME ON HIS SHOW. So it's Storer who yesterday told us Pretty in Pink doesn't get the guy, which was pretty obvious, if you ask me :)

Bonus track: Syd is his redemption plot. Syd is his endgame, sure, but first, he has to grow up to be the man he can be as opposed to the bear he is. I always said his whole redemption arc is Kierkegaardian:

And he even looks like him, c'mon!

Remember to follow my tag #Gingerpovs 💋

[fooltofancy]

does anyone happen to have that post w emergency air filters (box fan+filter?) suggested for fire season saved?

[the-obnoxious-sibling]

thinking about near misses in east blue.

shanks doesn't like conflict. he doesn't want to fight. he knows if buggy sees him a fight will happen. (does he know that buggy is concealing his history with roger? idk) so obviously he avoids him. shanks is great at avoiding people!

but how close do they get first?

do the red-haired pirates, looking for a new base of operations, spot a ship in port with a jolly roger that sends a shiver of recognition down shanks' spine?

do they land on opposite sides of the same island once? wander through the same market? nearly stop at the same stall? is the only thing that saves shanks from getting sworn at for a solid hour the sharp ear that catches on the phrase “captain buggy” and the quick thinking to duck into a random shop while his first mate gives him a deeply concerned look?

[puppyeared]

ive made myself more wet and pathetic

[lanayrutower]

this keeps me up at night btw.

[selfinflictedgunshotwound]

sorry for only saying this type of shit lately but i kinda wanna drive a car straight into a brick wall at the highest speed possible