#people will say 'that was for the men but this was for the girlies (gn)'

[drizzedoffrootbeer]

i need someone more eloquent than me to explain not liking using "girlies (gn)"

[604to647]

Brandy by the Fireplace

7.8K / Frankie Morales x City Girl!reader

Summary: When your best friend's boyfriend invites her up to the cabin he owns with his Delta Force buddies, she asks you to come along.

Warnings: None! Fluff! Insecurity and anxiety on reader's part, but Frankie makes it better (anxiety/comfort. My anxious girlies (gn) who think everyone hates them when they definitely don't? This one's for you 🥹). Nicknames because it's me. Oh, and Tom's alive?

A/N 1: Written and very late for @auteurdelabre's Trope Off Challenge - the trope here is Fish out of water because, well you know🤭🤭 Can be considered a Triple Frontier AU, or set before the events of the movie. Though I'm not sure I'm 100% satisfied with this and the word count got away from me, I still think it's cute and very seasonal - I hope others do too!

A/N 2: As I understand it, the cottage v. cabin lexiconic difference is a Canadian thing. When people think of cottage country, it's primarily the luxury getaway experience in the Muskokas. Super fancy! Celebrities cottage there (the Beckhams, Cindy Crawford) and the properties are huge lakefront estates. While in Western Canada, people primarily have cabins - they're more rugged, remote. In no way am I saying that cottages are better than cabins! They are just different - both enjoyable and picturesque in their own way. But you gotta know what you're in for, cause of packing and stuff... 😅😅

Trailer / CABIN dividers by @saradika-graphics 😘😘

This was such an effing mistake.

You sniffle as you sit cross-legged on the simple threadbare sheets covering the thin mattress that you’ve called bed for the last two nights.  You’re holding your favourite fleece sweater in your hands, looking at the scorch marks where flareups from tonight’s bonfire had jumped from the pit and burned multiple holes - the black charred spots on the fabric blurring as your tears finally spill over.

I shouldn’t have come.

A ruined sweater in and of itself wasn’t the end of world.  But a ruined sweater here? Tonight? It’s just the freaking cherry on top of the already disastrous sundae that was this weeklong vacation so far.

And you don’t have anyone to blame but yourself.

When your best friend Jenny begged you to come with her to her boyfriend’s cabin for a week, you had readily agreed.  You love Benny and he and Jenny are so adorable, if not a bit too overly mushy and cheesy (“We’re the better Bennifer!  Woo - Benny and Jenny!!”).  He and his old army buddies had gone in together on a cabin on a lake about seven hours out of the city at the suggestion of their Veterans Affairs therapist – something about working the land and finding serenity in nature to help them overcome some of the harder things they’ve seen over their time in service.

It apparently did wonders for them.  Both Benny and his older brother, Will, who you had met a few times, were easy going and kind men - maybe a little rough and tumble with each other sometimes, but you didn’t see it as anything more than filial comradery and brotherly love.  Jenny assured you that Benny’s other friends, Santi, Tom and Frankie were all cut from the same cloth.

Benny had invited Jenny up to the cabin for the boys’ annual Autumn weeklong trip – taking advantage of any remaining mild weather from the end of summer to clean and close up the cabin for the Fall and Winter.  All the boys would be there and Tom’s sisters had been invited as well – Jenny begged you to come for support and of course you had said yes.

Sure, you’re a city girl through and through, but this wouldn’t be your first cottaging experience.  You fondly recall the summers and Thanksgivings you had been invited to your college roommate’s family cottage in the Muskokas: crystalline waters and lush greenery bordered the beautifully landscaped acreage upon which your still close friend’s family’s 9 bedroom-9 bath modern estate resided.  Summer days were wiled away on the built-in dock lounging and reading, and the cooler temperature evenings were spent inside by one of the several contemporary fireplaces, sipping on cocktails and nibbling on charcuterie.  It was always such a treat to go - you haven’t visited in ages, but a similar getaway right now sounds like heaven.

Your first clue that perhaps this might not be the Muskoka cottage country experience you imagined, is when the last leg of your seven-hour journey in Benny’s truck was over a 30-minute dirt road so twisty and uneven that you started to feel a little nauseous. 

When you got out of the truck, you realized the true folly of your assumptions about where you were going to be staying this week.  The property could best be described as rustic and very "nature forward", the only evidence of landscaping being the dirt worn paths that led to the different cabins.  Instead of one main house, there is a Main Cabin – consisting of a living room area, place to eat, kitchen and the compound’s one bathroom.  All guests stay in individual cabins, isolated and spaced out at various points on the large property. Each so far apart and separated by the lush, dense forest, you don't even know where they all are: Upper Cabin (Benny and Jenny), Delta Cabin (Santi), Bunk Cabin (Frankie), Screened-In Veranda Cabin (You), New Cabin (Tom’s Sisters), Outhouse Cabin (no one), Grizzly Cabin (Will and Tom).

You’re not opposed to roughing it a little, but by the error of your own expectations, you’ve come thoroughly unprepared for your week’s stay.  For one thing, your cabin (as the name would suggest), along with all the others, has no windows - only screens.  Perfect for the hot summers, but with Fall coming early this year, the clothes you packed aren’t warm enough to shield you against the chill that blows over your bed each night.  For another, you find yourself sharing space with more critters that you were expecting, and not the adorable furry types either.

The frog that came out of the one toilet made you almost consider using the outhouse up by the parking lot (almost). And when you were washing your face that first night, the realization that the running tap was the only thing that was keeping the cricket from jumping out of the sink, forced you to stifle a scream that left your throat hoarse. There are all together more bugs indoors than you had expected (since you had expected windows). 

It's definitely more rustic that you’re used to, but you really do try to make the best of it.  The last thing you want is to appear rude or snobbish about the decidedly non-luxurious state of your accommodations.  Sure, it isn’t the glamourous cottage experience you had expected, but it’s still incredibly beautiful and serene here.  Moreover, you know that every cabin and amenity on the property was built by Benny and his friends and has served incredible therapeutic purpose for each of them.  You would never want to diminish that by somehow implying that the cottage isn’t… cottaging; this place serves a much more important purpose than impressing the likes of city girls guests like you.

You also don’t forget that the entire reason you’re here is to support Jenny.  Make sure she and Benny have fun.  And they are! Inseparable, giddy, googly-eyed fun.  No way are you going to ruin her perfectly good time by letting her worry about you, not when this is the first healthy relationship she’s had in years.

And honestly, everyone is so, so nice.  Benny and Will’s Delta Force teammates are as good humoured and sweet as they are.  There’s Santiago (or Santi), the unofficial leader of the crew – his hooded brown eyes look like they could tell a hundred stories, but he keeps your group entertained with the loudest and most fantastic ones, always framing his stories so that they rib at least one of his buddies.  Tom, the eldest of the friends, is more serious – the type who might exude an intimidating gravitas if you were to meet him alone, but next to the verbose energy of Benny and Santi and under the watchful eye of his sisters, he seems to relax, smiling pleasantly and genuinely while in the comforting presence of his friends.  Will, who is just as boyishly handsome as his brother, you already know to be as easy going and funny - though maybe a little less goofy than Benny.  Despite what Jenny had slyly insinuated to you before you left, you don’t think Will has any interest in you – and with Tom’s gorgeous and outgoing sisters both vying for his attention, the circumstances aren't right to try and see if there’s anything to Jenny's (and possibly Benny’s?) matchmaking. 

The last member of the friend group is Frankie, who the guys sometimes inexplicably call ‘Catfish’ – he was noticeably reserved at first, though you soon realize that he’s just as funny and generous as the others.  Frankie's steely and calm countenance seems borne out of necessity, likely from the many years of service where his competence and levelheadedness were needed to keep the other four in check, alive.  You notice that he often sits a little further back from the group, most likely out of habit, literally watching their backs; he’s quieter and less rowdy, but never fails to join in his friends’ laughter – it’s obvious to you that he loves his brothers in arms.  Once or twice, you think you feel Franke's deep, soulful eyes pointed in your direction, but when you try to meet his gaze, those same eyes disappear beneath the brim of his worn Standard Oil cap that never seems to leave his head.  You think you probably imagine it. 

Everyone is so much fun to be around, super nice and completely welcoming of you.

They just… don’t really need you here.  Well, that seems presumptuous!  Rather, there doesn’t seem to be a place for you here the same way there is for everyone else.

It was evident from the first day when the boys pulled a small catamaran out of the boathouse and attempted to try (again, from what you’re told) to put it together and get it out on the water.  Every person was asked to help pull on the trampoline netting – when it was evident that your limited strength and poor (manicured) grip on the netting wasn’t actually doing anything except making you an extra body in the way, you were relegated to standing on the side, holding a spray can of lubricant and waiting to spray it on the track if someone needed.  No one ever did.  The trampoline never got installed, and you can’t help but think it was partially because you hadn’t been able to provide the additional muscle needed.

During the day, everyone seems to engage in some type of cabin maintenance work from an unseen to-do list: painting screens, sanding down the canoe, pulling up old raspberry bushes, fixing doors and hinges in various cabins, retiling the one shower and installing a new sliding glass door, replacing the hot water pump’s aging parts, reinforcing the mesh around the young fruit trees to deter deer, repairing the older slats on the dock, removing the beaver dam under the dock, and so on and so forth.

All things you have absolutely no qualifications to help with and would likely hinder someone who did if you tried.

Jenny wasn’t terribly handy either, but she tagged along with Benny on all his chores and he didn’t mind patiently explaining and helping her help him with his tasks - the two of them giggling and in love as they winterized the boat shed.

Everyone else seems to know their daily assignments and go about their hard and dirty labour, leaving you alone to… do nothing?  It felt rude to sit out on the lawn and relax while others did work around you.  And even inside there's not much you can do; Tom’s sisters had brought up food for the first few meals and when you asked them if you could help, they insisted that they had it in hand and told you to “go have fun”.  You chastise yourself for having not asked more questions about what you and Jenny could have brought and if you and her could have signed up to cook your share of meals.

You hide out in the Main Cabin or in your own for most of the day, reading and feeling guilty - coming down periodically to chat with people but feeling like you’re distracting them from their duties.

Even after dinner when you volunteered to help do the dishes and clean-up, you were cheerfully shooed away by Santi after you couldn’t find where to put back the cutlery, then the glasses, then the lids to the pots (which were inexplicably kept separate from the pots themselves) – you’re sure there’s a system, you just don’t know what it is.

Maybe it would be different if you knew everyone better, but this is the first time you’re meeting everyone except Benny and Will.  You don’t know any of the guys particularly well but you do know that this cabin is their special place – you don’t want be a bother or ruin anyone’s good time.

To you, it's clear that you’re not carrying your weight here - the last thing you want to be is a nuisance as well. You don’t fit in and you definitely don’t belong. 

Tonight has finally felt a little more comfortable.  After a full day of work for everyone (else) and a belly bursting dinner, the boys set up a bonfire and everyone got together to roast marshmallows and make s'mores.  In addition to looking forward to the melty treats, you were secretly glad for the warmth of the fire in the chilly evening air.  Beers were cracked, marshmallows burnt, and the stories the boys told had your sides aching from so much laughter you’re sure you’ll still feel it in the morning.  But as the fire was dying, the conversation turned to what everyone’s up to tomorrow, you once again have nothing to say that's comparable to the tasks and chores listed by the others.  When Tom comments that there are still so many things to do in order to properly winterize the cabins and that it’ll be a wonder if it all gets done, you look down at your feet - face burning from the guilt and shame of being unable to contribute when help is indeed needed.  You’re sure everyone is thinking that you’re just a freeloader from the city, or worse, lazy and unwilling to put in some work.  Suddenly the last few bites of the s'more in your hand don’t look as appetizing anymore.

You excuse yourself from the group and quickly get ready for bed before heading up to your cabin for the night.  Once settled in, that’s when you discover that your sweater is full of newly burnt holes and you lose it.

Luckily, the cabins are all fairly far apart so no one can hear your crying, but your gratitude for the isolation and quiet of the cabins is short-lived; as it's been every night, the silence of the woods in the dark is deafening.  So used to the ambient noise of the city, you find that every snap of a branch or hoot of an owl slices through the night and rings out as loud as a gunshot.  You lay in bed like each night before, unable to get comfortable or calm and falling asleep only when exhaustion overtakes you.

The next morning, you wake to the sound of chirping birds and the brightness of the morning sun punctuated by the shouts and loud chatter from down near the water where people are already starting their daily chores.  Another wave of guilt and anxiety sets in as you feel like you’ve had an undeserved lie-in - resting while everyone else got up early to do work.

On your way down to the Main Cabin, you see and wave good morning to Frankie who’s transporting relatively heavy chunks of wood tucked under his beefy arms.  You don’t ask if you can help – how could you? Each stump he carries looks like it could topple you over even if you managed to lift one. 

When you get down to the lawn, you catch Will and Tom’s sisters as they head up to one of the cabins with paint cans and brushes and Will cheerily calls to you, “Saved you some breakfast!”  His completely innocent and kind pronouncement sends your already tightly strung heart into another spiral and you try not to tear up as you call back your thanks.

You eat by yourself from the plates left out for you and feel a little better when you can at least wash them and leave them in the drying rack.  Pouring yourself the coffee that’s left in the cannister, you grimace at it’s lukewarmness, but you don’t know where the grounds are kept or even how to operate the ancient stovetop coffee maker to make more, so you make do and drink it sort of sadly as you return to the dining table and open your book.

It's here where Frankie finds you a few hours after you saw him last.

He asks kindly after your book before saying he’s going to make a fresh pot of coffee and offers to top you off; when you get up to help – he tells you he’s got it before disappearing into the kitchen.  Slightly discouraged, you sit back down; unless you spy on Frankie, there’s no way for you to learn how to make the coffee here - and you’re just debating if you should do just that when he pokes his head back in, “Do you want me to show you how to make the coffee?”

Eagerly, you nod and hurry to join him in the kitchen, making note of where the fresh coffee grounds are stored and listening attentively as Frankie patiently shows you how to work the vintage contraption that Santi rescued from a yard sale.  He smiles at your willing face, wondering why you’re so fascinated by something as mundane as their overly complicated coffee maker, but when you thank him, voice almost quivering with overly emotional gratitude, Frankie’s sure there’s more to it than he’s understanding.

He's been watching you, Benny’s girlfriend pretty friend, over the last two days and can't quite figure you out.  It’s clear that you’re not used to roughing it in these types of conditions, but you don’t complain or make fun – though there is a tinge of melancholy and anxiety to the gentleness of your expressions that he does understand all too well.  You seem sweet and friendly, and Benny certainly speaks warmly of you – but for some reason, you don’t seem entirely comfortable and Frankie wouldn’t be the Army strategist he is if he didn’t notice.  Or a very good host.

“Do you want to go for a row while the coffee drips?”

“A row?”  You look up, confused.

“Yeah, in the row boat.  Come on – this old thing takes forever. We could probably get a good way to the middle of the lake and head back before it’s done,” nods Frankie, encouragingly.

This is the first time since the disastrous catamaran trampoline that anyone has asked you to do anything with them during the day, and you’re surprised by how touched you are by the simple gesture.  Unable to find the words to express how appreciative you feel, you simply nod.

Frankie pushes the old tin boat that you saw him sealing and painting on the beach yesterday partway into the water, helping you in first before pushing the boat all the way in then jumping in himself, two big wooden oars under his arm.  He sits across from you, locks the oars into the oarlocks and starts rowing; his powerful arms rotating the paddles with ease, slicing them through the clear, calm water and gently gliding the boat across the lake.

The two of you sit in silence for a bit, and you look over the side of the boat in wonder as the sand bed below slowly disappears and the water gets darker and deeper.  Sighing, you contently breathe in the fresh, crisp Fall air and enjoy the picturesque view of the far off shores and mountains before settling your gaze on the handsome man in front of you.  The ripples and flex of Frankie’s bulging muscles under his shirt as he expertly rows are near mesmerizing, every hypnotic stroke powerful and purposeful.

“You’re not having fun, are you?”

You look up, ashamed.  You've been trying so hard to hide that you're not 100% comfortable being here, it's embarrassing to get confirmation that you've failed in this regard.  Even if the others could tell you weren’t having fun, you hope you haven’t come off as an ungrateful guest or made any of your hosts feel bad.  You’re about to say so and apologize, but something about the way Frankie’s looking at you, kind and soft and not at all judgmental or accusatory, gives you pause.  It’s like he’s genuinely extending an opportunity for you to let go of what you’ve been bottling up since you got here – maybe that’s why he brought you out to the middle of the lake?  Frankie's sincere eyes bore into your own and his gentle demeanor invites you to let down your guard; deflating, you burst into tears, “I’m not!! I’m so sorry, Frankie!!”

Hurriedly, you try to compensate, “Goodness, please don’t think I’m complaining – it’s so beautiful and peaceful here, and Benny told me how much effort you guys have put into this place!  Honestly, your care and hard work really shows – everything is so nice.  It’s just really, really different from the one other cottage experience I’ve had – so I didn’t even pack right.  And I thought there would be a lot more relaxing and lazing around – I really don't know what to do with myself here.”

“Where did you cottage before?”

“The Muskokas?”

Frankie lets out such a loud, belly-shaking laugh that shakes the whole boat; you actually hold onto the sides afraid you might tip over, but find yourself beaming at having drawn out this melodic sound from the normally stoic man.

“Well, City Girl, no wonder this place was a shock to you!  The Muskokas is a very particular cottaging experience – real pretty and real glamourous.  But the rest of us?  What we have aren’t even cottages.  They’re cabins.  This is cabin country,” he laughs good naturedly.

“Right - cabins!” you grin.

“Sorry to disappoint you, City Girl.”

“No, no! Please don’t think that - I’m not disappointed at all! I just came in with the wrong expectations, that’s all.  That’s all on me, Frankie.  Really, the cabin is lovely – I was just expecting a more… cashmere sweaters and brandy snifters around the fireplace kind of a vibe.”  You hope Frankie won’t take your joke the wrong way.

Luckily, Frankie gives you another easy smile, one that reveals an adorable dimple in his right cheek you haven’t had a chance to notice before, “Yeah, we’re more of a bats in the ceiling, on-going maintenance kind of vibe.”

At this, your face falls and your own shortcomings to contribute when everyone else is working so hard claws at your chest painfully.

Frankie immediately clocks the change in your demeanor, “Hey, pretty girl, it’s okay.”

You look up at him with tears in your eyes, too distressed to notice the new nickname, “No it’s not, Frankie.  You’re right – everyone is chipping in, helping out to keep this place beautiful and running smoothly, except me.  I’m not used to this kind work, so I don’t really know what needs to get done… and even if I did… I mean you saw with the catamaran?  I’m not strong or skilled enough to do any of it.  I thought I could help out with some of the indoor stuff, like cooking and cleaning up, but I don’t know where anything is and everyone is so busy, I feel like such a nuisance bothering them even more in order to show me.  So… I don’t know what I’m doing here – it doesn’t feel right to be sitting around and reading like I’m some kind of pampered houseguest while everyone around me is working, but I also don’t think I can add value anywhere.  I just don’t think I belong out here with you guys.  And I thought I was at least hiding it well, but it's obviously noticeable how much I don’t fit in because you rowed me out here to confront me about it.  I’m sorry to be so much trouble, Frankie.”

You take a deep breath after your long speech and look down at your lap, more embarrassed than ever.

Frankie leans over from his seat, causing the boat to rock slightly and tilts your face up to his with two of his thick fingers, “You’re no trouble at all, pretty girl.  It’s okay if this place is too rustic for ya.  It’s really rustic… and that’s by design.”  He smiles reassuringly, keen to comfort you, “I know Benny told you that this cabin is sort of therapy for us guys?  We saw some... less-than-ideal things on a lot of our missions.  All our missions, actually.  The VA counsellors suggested that we try and work through having seen so much that’s been broken, and maybe even having done some of the breaking ourselves, by getting a project where we come together as a team to focus on improving and building.  It’s meant to need constant ongoing maintenance and have a never-ending list of chores so we can put our energy into building up instead of what we used to do… tearing down.  For the most part, the cabin has been good for us – working with our hands, being responsible for something that isn’t life or death, working towards a common goal where we can be together and enjoy each other’s company in a setting that’s not… exploding.”

Frankie chuckles at his little joke so not to scare you off with the intensity of the topic.  He’s relieved to see that your expression is one of sympathy and understanding, your eyes warm and gentle.  He thinks your eyes are beautiful, deep, kind – he might easily get lost in them if he didn’t remember that he’s supposed to be comforting you, “It really is meant for the five of us to be putting in the work, but I know what you’re saying, it’s not a great feeling to be left out, even if you know no one’s doing it on purpose.  I’m sorry – we should be better hosts.  You’re our guest.”

You start to shake your head in protest at this, but Frankie stops you when he picks up the oars and dips them back in the water to start rowing again, “Tell you what, it’s my turn to make lunch today - why don’t you come and help me.  I’ll show you where we keep everything so you’ll know in case you ever want to… help out in the kitchen again.  I promise you can ask me any questions you want and it won’t bother me at all.”

Perking up at Frankie’s generous offer, you nod happily, “Okay! Thank you, Frankie – that’s really sweet of you.”  It’s probably the first truly joyful smile you’ve smiled since you got here and Frankie thinks you look radiant.

The two of you glide slowly across the still lake in comfortable silence, Frankie purposefully not putting too much power into his oar strokes.  Trying to discreetly wipe your cheeks, you feel their warmth as you spy on the handsome man across from you through your tear dotted lashes.  You feel so safe and cared for - your heart grateful that Frankie noticed you were out of sorts despite having only met you a few days ago and was considerate enough to ask after you.

His teasing voice cuts through your thoughts, “Is there anything else, City Girl?”

“Hmmmmm?”

“Is there anything else that's been bothering you while you’re out here?”

You bite your lip and shake your head; Frankie has been so kind, you don’t want to push it and appear to complain.

“Come on, I know there is.  Go on, pretty girl.”

Pretty girl – there’s that term of endearment again.  This time when you hear it, your heart swells and your face flushes – and maybe your thighs press together a little, too.  To try and cover up your reaction, you spill your last embarrassing grievance, “Ummmm… it’s kind of spooky at night.”

Frankie booms another side-splitting, deep rumble of a laugh and you instantly feel better, “It’s just sooooo quiet and everyone is so far from one another.  I guess I’m used to background city noises and the feeling of people being around.  It's been a bit unsettling laying in the dark in silence, hearing every little twig snap.” You cover your eyes, “Plus I packed so poorly for the trip because I thought it was going to be a… cottage.  I definitely didn’t bring warm enough clothes.  I brought a TON of self-care stuff though – maybe I should try layering some face masks.” It feels so good to be able to lightheartedly make fun of yourself again.

Frankie laughs with you, then looks thoughtful, “Ok, ok, the chilliness I think I can help you out with.  The spookiness… got to circle back to that.”

“Thanks, Frankie.”  You mean it sincerely.  Even having been able to talk to him about your unease makes you dread the upcoming night a lot less.

Back at the beach, Frankie hops out of the boat and reaches in to help you out - when your fingers touch his, a little spark lingers and your heartbeat picks up a bit.  Hand in hand, the two of you walk back to the Main Cabin together, not letting go until you enter the kitchen.

---

After Frankie patiently shows you the pantry, the freezers, and where all the kitchen items are, he makes sure you have a passing familiarity with everything before the two of you make wraps for everyone.  You find him to be endearingly funny, terribly sweet, and a wonderful conversationalist – Frankie tells you about his work and adventures as a charter pilot, and listens intently as you answer his questions about your work and life in the city.  You almost regret calling everyone in for lunch, but the feeling of being able to offer people something after their morning of hard work has brightened your spirits significantly - it feels like a tremendous weight has been lifted off your shoulders.

You don’t know that the obvious change in your countenance fills Frankie with pride and joy, nor do you see the way he gazes at you with fondness as you cheerfully hand out the wraps or when you jump up after lunch is over and hurry to clear the table.

The next day, you’re returning from a solo walk along the trail that runs behind the cabins on the bay, when you come upon an unfamiliar noise as you approach the boys’ property. 

It sounds like a loud and sharp sudden crack accompanied by a low manly grunt, then followed by a couple of softer thuds.  The echoing combination repeats it self at slightly varying intervals and gets progressively louder until you come upon its source.

From behind a large Spruce tree, you see that it’s Frankie chopping wood.

Frankie repeatedly brings his axe down on the log pieces he’s set up on the chopping block with precision and power.  His sweat soaked shirt is stretched taut across his broad back, the damp fabric doing nothing but accentuate the thick muscles that flex and contract with every burly movement.

Though Frankie’s breathing is heavy, you can tell he isn’t even close to being winded - his strength and rugged athleticism evident by the way he relentlessly labours on, splitting log after log.

Every subsequent swing of the axe captivates you further; a wetness pools in your mouth that you have to force yourself to swallow, lest it spill over and you get caught drooling.

"Wanna give me a hand, City Girl?"

Shit.

Emerging from behind what you now realize looks like a hiding spot, you give Frankie a sheepish smile, “Oh, ummm… you look like you have it pretty well handled.  Not sure if I could even make a dent in one of those logs.”

Frankie takes off his signature cap and uses the back of the same hand to wipe the sweat from his forehead - he chuckles and his eyes twinkle, “Could you help me gather and stack the wood I split onto that rack over there?  And bring me new logs to chop from that other pile there?”

You nod enthusiastically.  Frankie’s making work for you and you’re so thankful and excited to help.

For the next hour, you run around gathering the firewood that Frankie splinters and set him up with fresh logs.  When you apologize that it takes you so long to carry the larger rounds to him, he tells you not to worry – it gives him a chance to catch his breath and take a much-needed rest.  You don’t tell Frankie that he doesn’t look like he needs any rest at all – your own quickened breaths have very little to do with physical exertion and more to do with ogling Frankie’s broad and brawny frame, and the way the entirety of his strapping body is thrown into each axe swing, every muscle engaged, tensed.  It’s similar to the way he looked when he effortlessly rowed the two of you in the tin boat across the lake, but like… a hundred times more burly.

You try to distract yourself from openly drooling at Frankie’s sweat soaked torso by expertly arranging the firewood on the rack so that it fits perfectly together like a Tetris puzzle.  When the last piece has been placed on top, Frankie marvels that the firewood storage has never looked more organized and with one hand still holding on to his axe, he takes your soft hand in his other and leads you down to lunch.

Over the next couple of days, you notice that Frankie goes out of his way to make sure you’re not alone or hiding out in any of the cabins.

He takes you out in Benny’s truck to run in-town errands like picking up additional groceries or getting gas for the boat.  These trips are always filled with fun and easy conversation and end with a treat at the ice cream shop on the main road.  Frankie teases you on how you always flit from freezer to freezer, determined to try a flavour you’ve never had, and you groan at how he sticks to his tried-and-true mint chocolate chip.

You’re getting bolder at offering to do the indoor, more domestic tasks and chores that you know you have the skills to handle like making meals and cleaning up; more often than not, without you asking, Frankie will join you in the kitchen.  Even though you tell him to relax and that he deserves rest after his physical exertions of the day, Frankie stays and hangs out - casually drying dishes, tasting your sauces, leaning his massive figure against the counter and discreetly pointing to various cabinets and drawers when you forget where things go.

Frankie makes you laugh with his quippy jokes and clever little observations, and he makes your cheeks warm with his subtle and sweet flirting.  But mostly, he makes you feel so included, relaxed and accepted – his kindness at having taken you under his wing and giving priority to your comfort and enjoyment at the cabin makes your heart positively sing. 

Since the day he took you out on the rowboat, Frankie has come to visit you in the Screened-In Veranda cabin every night.  The first night, it’s to bring you extra blankets and one of his thick hoodies – all of it you accept gratefully; he also brings a pack of playing cards and the two of you play Big Two until you can barely keep your eyes open. Making sure you're bundled up in his hoodie, Frankie leaves you to sleep under a comically thick stack of blankets and happily swathed in his manly musk.

The next night, he brings you an old worn box of Rummy-O, explaining that he and the boys try to buy old games from garage sales to bring up to the cabin, even ones they’ve never played before.  You’ve never played either, and for the next few nights, you and Frankie spread the tiles over your bedspread and become Rummy-O experts, stopping only when you’re too tired to keep playing - then and only then does Frankie leave you before traipsing back to his own cabin.

Embarrassingly, it takes you until tonight to figure out what he's up to.

“I know what you’re doing,” you grin in the dimly lit cabin as Frankie dons a Korean face mask and lets you give him a cuticle oil treatment.

“I’m getting pampered,” Frankie murmurs from where he lays, careful not to move his face lest the sheet mask slips.

“You’ve been keeping me company every night until I get sleepy so I don’t have to lie here in the dark and be scared,” you look at him warmly, in awe of this tender-hearted man’s goodness.

You see one eye open in the eye hole cut-out of the mask and the corners of the one for the mouth tug up a little, “Has it been working?”

“Yes and thank you.  And I think your hoodie and the blankets you brought really helped too – the nights feels way cozier now.”

“Good.  I’m glad.  Now do you have anything that’s going to help with these bags under my eyes?”

You cackle, sure that the sound of your and Frankie’s joint laughter must carry clear across the lake.

It’s the last night at the cabin and the whole group is out tonight for another bonfire.  You’re nice and snug in Frankie’s hoodie, giggling with Jenny, who you feel like you’ve barely seen this whole week – she fills you in on all eight hundred of the adorable things Benny has done for her this week and you’re over the moon seeing her so completely in love.  The entire group is in great spirits, toasting to another successful season at the cottage, all the shared memories, new and old stories to tell, and the delicious food eaten over this week.  Your dinners for the latter half of the week are praised, and when you bury your face in the oversized sleeves of Frankie's hoodie in embarrassment, you feel his strong arm curl proudly around your shoulders and you positively kvell. 

The drinks flow liberally tonight with no one needing to wake up early and the only chore on anyone’s list being packing.  About halfway through tonight’s bonfire, Frankie slips away from the group; everyone is too caught up in their own conversations to notice it, but you immediately miss having his comforting presence close by.  You’re just about to ask Jenny for the tea on why Tom’s sisters seemed to be giving Will the cold shoulder when you hear Frankie’s dulcet baritone low in your ear, “Hey, City Girl, can I show you something?”

Getting up, you leave the others at the bonfire and follow Frankie back into the Main Cabin.  He ushers you towards the main living room and when you enter, the sight that greets you stops you in your tracks with a gasp.  The darkened room is lit bright and warm from the fire that Frankie’s laid in the fireplace, the flames crackling slow and calm – he must have been stoking it for a while.  In front of the glowing fire is a little carpeted area with cushions arranged purposefully to create a makeshift sitting area.  In the middle sits two brandy snifters filled with an amber gold liquid.

“Frankie, what’s all this?” you exclaim, eyes bright as you turn to look at the handsome, affectionate man who brought you here.

Gesturing for you to sit down in front of the gently roaring fire and handing you one of the glasses as you settle in, Franke shyly explains, “Wasn’t able to swing any cashmere sweaters, but I wanted to give you your brandy by the fireplace cottage experience.”

Rendered speechless by how cute and thoughtful Frankie is - all you can do is give him a doe-eyed look of awe as you sip the liquor he managed to procure.  For you.

“Thank you, Frankie.  This is perfect.  But if I’m being honest, I’ve quite warmed up to the cabin experience,” you tease.

“Good,” the tenor of Frankie’s voice is warm with the undercurrent of what’s not yet been spoken out loud.

As you both enjoy your fireside libations, you joke and flirt, keeping the conversation light - somehow tip-toeing around what’s happening between the two of you.  Your bodies, though, pay your shyness no mind, inching closer and closer until you’re practically in Frankie’s lap.  The conversation grows quieter as words are replaced by looks of longing and want until all you seem to be doing is studying the dark and rough lines of Frankie’s face, the plushness of his lips, the adorable heart shaped patch in his facial scruff.

With one final sip of brandy, the soothing burn of the liquor down your throat gives you that final push of liquid courage and you drop your gaze from Frankie’s soft chocolate brown eyes down to his waiting mouth.  Not so innocently, you lick you lips at the sight.

Then Frankie is on you, crashing his lips to yours – the empty snifters rolling away on the carpet as you pour yourself into his mouth, open wide and inviting.  This first kiss is nothing short of sensual and desperate, the feelings that have been simmering over the past week boiling over until you’re both a mess of tongues, moans and clashing teeth.

“Oh Frankie,” your soft whimpers a welcomed song to his ears, Frankie returns your sentiments by licking behind your teeth, exploring and stroking into your receptive mouth with a fiery passion.  His hands maneuver you to straddle him so that he can better feel you, roaming your back until one hand comes to a rest at the nape of your neck, the other under one of the pert globes of your ass, using them as leverage to press you flush against his chest.

As your hands go to run through Frankie’s soft waves, you knock his favourite cap onto the ground and you giggle loudly when it lands near the now forgotten brandy snifters with a little thud.  Frankie feels himself harden at the melodic sound.

You make out like teenagers, tongues dancing and teeth nibbling until you both run out of air and have no choice to break apart, panting.

“Been wanting to do that since I saw you your first day here, City Girl,” admits Frankie, eyes tender and sincere as he rests his forehead against yours.

Leaning in to lightly peck his lips, you’re surprised but can’t help teasing, “What took you so long, Morales?”

Frankie chuckles, though his eyes flash with a bolt of insecurity, “Wasn’t sure you would want to.  Benny said something about how he wanted to try and set you up with Will.”

Your face scrunches up with astonishment - so Jenny wasn’t just being facetious!  But you quickly cup Frankie’s face and run your thumbs reassuringly through his adorable scruff, “I don’t know anything about that.  But what I do know is that I can’t resist a kind hearted, handsome man who goes out of his way to take care of me, never judges me and makes me feel comfortable without pushing me to be someone I’m not.  You, Frankie – I can’t imagine wanting anyone but you to kiss me.”

Taking this as the invitation it is, Frankie slots his mouth over yours once more.  This second kiss is slower, deeper, and full of promise.  You sigh as Frankie’s tongue slides over yours in a slow and intimate waltz and his lips find yours again and again and again.

“Querida,” he murmurs, “when we get back to the city, can I take you out to dinner?”

Grinning at having earned yourself another nickname, you tuck yourself into the nook under Frankie’s chin and press one, two, three soft kisses to his neck while nodding, “I’d love that, Frankie.”

The next morning you wake up well rested, with a strong arm banded over your body and Frankie’s hard chest pressed up against your back.  Slipping slowly back to consciousness, you can’t help but smile as the memories of the previous night come flooding back.  Frankie came back up to your cabin with you and stayed to keep you company as he had the previous nights, but instead of games or spa treatments, he kept you awake with the hard and soft kisses of his expert mouth and innocent touches that by the end of the night, didn’t feel quite so innocent anymore.  Lips swollen after hours of making out, Frankie had tucked in with you under the covers and held you close, lulling you to sleep with evenness of his breathing and the soothing rise and fall of his chest.  Rolling over, you find Frankie already slowly blinking awake, “Good morning, City Girl.  Did you sleep okay?”

You nod into his shoulder, “Slept perfect, Frankie.  Coziest night here with my own personal furnace.”

Frankie chuckles, “I like waking up with you like this, pretty girl.  Like seeing you wearing my clothes, too.”

Shyly, you gaze into Frankie’s eyes, heart beating faster at his look of adoration, “I like it too, Frankie.  Waking up with you, wearing your clothes.”

After some tender and sweet kisses under the covers, the two of you manage to get out of bed so you can pack and get ready for the trip home.

Right before he closes the door to the Screened-In Veranda Cabin, Frankie turns around, “Wanna ride with me on the way back, City Girl?”

“Sure!  What about Santi and Will?”  You can’t help but get excited about the prospect of a long road trip with Frankie.

“They can go with Benny.  Or Tom.  Well at least Santi can ride with Tom.  Don’t think Tom’s sisters will let Will into Tom’s truck,” Frankie looks genuinely amused and you once again spot that cute dimple make an appearance in his right cheek.

“Omigod!  I meant to ask Jenny about that – what happened??”

Frankie throws you a heart-stopping wink, one that nearly sends your knees buckling, “Tell you on the way home, querida.”

---

A few hours later, everyone’s packed bags are stowed in their respective cars, the cabins locked, boats put away for the winter, and sheets and laundry stripped to go back to the city to be cleaned.

“Ready to go, City Girl?” grins Frankie, “Bet you can’t wait to get home.”

Buckling your seatbelt and looking fondly at the sweet man who made sure you felt seen and cared for this week, you say, almost wistfully, “It’s not that bad here.”

Pressing a tender kiss to your lips, Frankie nuzzles your nose affectionately with his before putting the car in reverse.  Steering the wheel one-handedly with his other big paw cupping the back of your headrest, he winks, “Cottage country ain’t got nothing on cabin country, am I right, querida?”

You giggle as he straightens out the car and take the hand that Frankie’s holds out to you over the centre console, “Only the cashmere sweaters, but other than that, nothing.”

Frankie brings your hand up to his lips, placing a sweet kiss to your knuckles as he starts down the windy dirt road in the direction of the city, “An easy fix for next time, City Girl.” 

Biting your lip to keep from smiling too much, you nod happily in agreement.  Next time.

[cyborg-franky]

Giving One Piece Men Flowers

GN Reader SFW Chars: Ace, Marco, Kidd

Marco

You didn’t get him flowers. Not because he wasn’t the type to like flowers, no, Marco was never one to stick gender roles on anything, especially who should give and receive flowers. You just knew the busy bird would forget to change their water or throw them out when they’d passed. 

Thus the cactus with the beautiful blue bloom. It would sit on his desk and keep him company when you weren't around. The bright flowers reminded you of his flames. If he forgot to water it then you could keep an eye on it without the poor thing dying within a week.

Marco looked at it, grinning and setting it pride of place on his desk. “Thank you, it’s really cute, brightens up the place!” He said and wrapped his arms around you and held you tight as you smiled, pleased he liked it.

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

Ace

Ace was confused as to why you had got him flowers. He’d always grown up with the notion that only girls liked flowers but he had always found them pretty. He just didn’t allow himself to make comments other than Yeah, nice when asked about anything to do with ‘girly things’

But when you explained anyone can like flowers, they were for everyone he opened up his mind and allowed himself to be happy with the stem of… fake flowers? You nodded and twirled the stem of red and orange-tinted hibiscus in your hand.

“Well, I didn’t think you’d ever be in your room enough to enjoy a bunch of flowers and I don’t think you could have kept up with watering a plant, so these will last forever!” You explained and he nodded, leaning down and kissing your nose. “Thanks,”

You were worried he was only placating you until you saw him the next day with one of the fake flowers firmly attached to his hat. Whenever anyone would comment he would beam brightly and say you got it for him and he loved it.

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

Kidd

Oh boy, you didn’t know what to expect when you rocked up to Kidd with a bunch of flowers. The way his nose wrinkled as he squinted at the flowers. He’d never really commented on liking anything like flowers in the past that was why you thought it would be nice to give him something.

You avoided tulips, knowing the comments people made but you saw these on the last island and just had to get him some. They were bold, loud, spikey, and very red. Just like him. He took the bunch and gave them a sniff, a huff as he poked at the spikey petals.

“I thought they would look nice in our room,” You said, he grunted in response before you followed him into your shared room. He set them in a vase and tilted his head to one side then the other, apprising them in his head as he tapped his foot.

You watched him use his power, small pieces of scrap that had littered his desk all came together with scraping and scratching sounds, soon the vase was encased in metal and you saw the grin on his face. “Love them, thanks babe, just needed a little somethin’,” He said with a big smirk on his face as he put his arm around you.

[love-fictional-ppl]

OH MY LORD PLEASE DO MORE ABOUT STONER BAKUSQUAD THAT WAS 'mwah' chefs kiss

xoxoxooxox thank you sm if you do xoxooxox

Omgg yesss I love stoner bakusquad. Tyy for the request loveeee

.·:*¨¨*:·. 𖣁 .·:*¨¨*:·.

Part 2 of this

༺♡︎༻

Summary: reader and quirkless au!Bakusquad are stoners

Pairings: platonic!katsuki bakugou x gn!bisexual!reader, platonic!Eijiro Kirishima x gn!bi!reader, platonic!pan!Denki Kaminari x gn!bi!reader, platonic!plug!hanta sero x gn!bi!reader, platonic!bi!mina ashido x gn!bi!reader, Eijiro Kirishima x bi!mina ashido, past!Hanta sero x bi!mina ashido, pan!Denki Kaminari x bi!plug!hitoshi Shinso

Warnings: language, Marijuana duh, vaping, alcohol, making out, shrooms, OF, masturbation, etc.

A/n: I was personally geeked writing part 1, so I forgot to actually include the vaping part lol. If you don’t know who Harold and kumar are, watch the movies.

༺♡︎༻

Ok so to start off, Sero’s day/night Job is deejaying. He’s actually really good at it. A lot of people would think this job would go to Denki but nope.

Speaking of Denki, he actually is a streamer. He reacts to people’s videos and plays horror games. He plays a lot of Roblox too.

Bakugou likes Sam & Colby. He’s liked them since trap boys. Honestly his favorite trap boy is Corey tho.

When Mina drinks she gets the spins really bad and throws up. Every single time. Without hesitation.

Denki cries sometimes when he’s drunk.

Kirishima greened out at the first smoke sesh.

Mina is seriously super horny when she messed up. She even convinced bakugou to make out with her while he was super stoned

Denki started vaping when you guys were in sophomore year, he eventually put u all on.

Bakugou had to bail Sero out of jail once, Sero was pulled over while he was making a delivery

Mina makes Kirishima take her to concerts, he trip sits her while she takes shrooms

Sero likes to watch cartoon network and adult swim when he’s stoned

Eventually, Shinso and Denki get together. You all excepted Shinso practically immediately, and invited him to the smoke seshs

Mina buys pink joint papers. The guys hate when she rolls up with them, except for Denki he loves them<3

Mina has an only fans. She isn’t embarrassed by it either. Denki has also watched her videos while jerking off

During smoke sesh’s you guys like to watch South Park. Sero likes to laugh and compare bakugou to cartman.

Sero has a unhealthy amount of bongs

Kirishima is the designated driver for after the hangouts. Whoever doesn’t just sleepover, he gives a ride.

Kirishima always makes a crap ton of snack when him and Mina host. Mina doesn’t like hosting tho.

Depending on how high bakugou is, he will let you play with his hair. It’s actually so soft.

Denki and Sero almost got kidnapped by Sero’s plug one time. It was Denki’s fault, he tried to still the guy’s knife.

Sero loves Shinso’s cat especially when he’s stoned he says he’s the group scooby doo. Shinso is forced to bring muffins(the cat) every time

Shinso also sells weed so Sero claims they’re competitors

Denki is so girly with his vapes it’s funny. Like this boy will kill for a minty Hyde. He also always has to tear apart his bed just to find the shit.

I think everybody agree and say bakugou and kirishima drink whiskey. Grown ahh ahh men💀

Bakugou literally will catnap when he is baked. He likes to sleep with his head on your thighs

Kirishima always brings blunt wraps since you and Denki always forgets to buy them. Baby boy kiri is a angel🥹😇

Reach in Sero’s couch cushions and you will find a kingdom of lighters

Denki says him and Sero are Harold And Kumar. Denki and you love those movies.

Sero’s kitchen is stocked on all your favorite foods and drinks.

༺♡︎༻

Not Proofread!

[rosary-pearls]

Wyll NSFW Thoughts/Headcanons

Because I need him & horny Wyll content is a dark parking lot where only like 16 of us meetup & don't really talk to each other. We should all get some Taco Bell together sometime 

These are mostly top/dom focused & gender neutral (18+ Obvi)

•The first few times you have sex together his focus is on the connection - physical, emotional, mental & spiritual. Introducing yourselves to each other's bodies, and sense of desire. The more fun things would make their way into your bedroom naturally

•Every time you have sex he views it as making love no matter how dirty it is or is not. Because of this he isn't a fan of quickies. Not only does it hinder him from properly lavishing your body with affection, but he loves building anticipation for both of you. He’d make you wait unless you really riled him up somehow, which is more difficult than you think because he has shockingly good self-control

•Wyll is an excellent kisser, it feels like melting into his lips. He looooves kissing and making out for extended periods of time

•I wouldn't say he’s mind blowing at going down on you or using his hands AT FIRST. It’s either been awhile for him or he's a virgin just based off his voicelines. But once he learns how you work he's godly because your pleasure is important to him 

•Missionary is his favorite position because it's intimate (no shock there), cuddlefucking probably second. Wyll likes any position as long as it isn't too convoluted tbh. He thinks overcomplicating it distracts from the moment

•If I had to put a label on it - to me he radiates pleasure dom. He gets off on getting you off. Wyll likes to lead in dance, and in sex - he's just not an aggressive leader. He’d much prefer to lead you with a gentle tug rather than a brutish yank

•The ‘dom’ portion of pleasure dom for him is very subtle & soft - he gives gentle but clear directions, even playful commands. It's rare for him to be stern, but when he is boy is it hot. These usually pertain to whether or not you may come, or if he doesn't want you to touch yourself for an extended period of time - though this is rare & would almost only happen if you're spending time apart 

•Don't think he won't be submissive tho - I think he’d lean towards taking the lead because that's just his personality, and taking care of people makes him feel good. But if you want to take charge he has no issue with that. One of the best/worst things you can do to him is tie him up & touch yourself in front of him. Especially if you make yourself come!! He’s just like 'that's my job >:O’ 

•Not a bratty sub at all, he's the type that wants to do exactly what you say & be praised for how well he behaved. Don't call him your pet tho, it'd remind him of Mizora. Do men with daddy issues like to be called daddy or hate it? I have no clue someone please advise

•Has some verse/switch in him - I think he'd prefer topping because he comes way too fast bottoming LMAO and it hurts his pride a bit. Finger him while sucking him off & he's gone 

•It doesn't matter what role he's taking - Wyll is noisy in bed. He doesn't get embarrassed tho - yknow the ‘guys too scared to moan, meanwhile im in my girl's ear like-’ meme? Yea that's him. At the start he's more grunting and groaning as the pleasure starts easing in, but as the intensity picks up he’s panting in your ear with breathy moans. When he's getting close, coming, or just extra passionate he's whiny & full of long, drawn out moans 

•Not to mention he's talkative. Endless praise & encouragement - he's somehow both poetic & explicit with his dirty talk & can switch between the two seamlessly. YKNOW HE TALKS YOU THROUGH IT YOU CANT DENY IT

•Not a fan of degradation, giving or receiving - no way this man is going to call you a slut, whore, bitch or anything in that realm. Sorry to the degradation girlies (gn) he’s into having you beg (kind of) tho so there's that  

•Wyll loves sensuality & pleasure of all sorts - massaging, bathing, burning candles, good scents, the whole shabang. Very textile, he really enjoys silk sheets and satin robes. He's the type that would warm you up by slowly kissing every inch of your body before doing anything else

That's all for now folks. I have more of these already written so if anyone wants more let me know & I'll post them

[danieldrivesfast]

Here I go again.

You know, when I first got my tickets for COTA, I was so excited to meet more F1 fans, especially ones who aren't men. I was ready to go to meetups, trade bracelets, make some acquaintances I could bullshit with. Spread the joy of girlhood, you know?

(My tickets got upgraded for free thanks to a very benevolent rep, so now I'm at the top of a $1500/ticket grandstand instead of GA, but I digress. 😌)

After being around the "fandom" more? I'll take the men. Every time.

When it comes to talking sports, men are awful in a specific way. They'll talk down to you, sure, but the second they realize you're right, they either move on or stop acting like an idiot. Honestly, more recently men - in person especially - have been decently respectful when talking racing. The last few races I've been to have been great for conversations and trading stories (and free beer). They don't give a shit who you are as long as you know your stuff.

Fandom girlies (gn)? They'll wish death on someone for breathing the wrong way. They'll harass someone until they leave social media. They'll harass team employees about decisions they don't like or imagined offenses even though those employees have no say. They'll stalk partners and families and leave nasty messages and think that's okay. They'll mock drivers for being open about their mental health struggles and actively try to make it worse. They'll create narratives about people they've never met to justify the vile things they say and do. They'll openly admit they don't care about reality, they hate for hate's sake. The girls can't understand that these are human men with emotions and personalities, they're not characters written for their enjoyment. They have lives and relationships that the public isn't privy to, and nobody is owed every detail about their private lives. In person? Fucking yikes. God forbid you like the same driver and try to have a conversation. (I promise, he's not going to fuck either of us.)

In my time around sports, not just racing, I have always tried to be welcoming and encouraging to people getting into it. I used to work with a pro team and a specific athlete to orchestrate special experiences for fans. I always believed it was better to have more fans, especially younger, diverse fans. But dealing with what I see here, on Twitter, on TikTok, on IG? I don't want these people around racing, or society, to be honest. It's like they saw the ugly men and said "How can we be worse?"

OBVIOUSLY it's not every girl or every man. I know there are girls who are incredible and men who most definitely are not. But if I'm picking a group, I'll take the one that isn't going to call me a racist/make up shit about me/tell me I should die or that they want to kill me for pointing out they're factually wrong about something or liking a different driver.

But sure, girlies. Tell me all about respect.

[bucksboobs]

It’s so wild to see the contrast between some people on here saying “god lou’s acting is awful” and then queer men saying he’s got his acting pretty much on point, i’m a queer dude but im not american so i know which section of fans id rather listen to about this topic (i also don’t see tommy as that mean but maybe that’s just my interpretation of his humour, i have a lot of friends who are just as deadpan)

The deadpan bitchiness… that man is A GAY(tm) real girlies (gn) understand

[defectivefanboy]

Hi! I just saw your Crimson HC and you write his character really well! I was wondering if you could write a little sfw something with him, maybe a sort of enemies to lovers kind of thing? You know, since he's so awful I would just love to punch him in the face and he has no right being as attractive as he is, but here I am :,) I think it would be really interesting to see him in a sort of rivalry and totally in denial about his feelings for an enemy. If you don't want to feel free to ignore this, have a nice day/night :)

Oh of course! He needs to be whacked a few times, it would do him some good

I was wondering if you could write a little sfw something with him, maybe a sort of enemies to lovers kind of thing?

Overall notes: Stories written on this blog are GN until specified. While this story uses they/them pronouns, and while I don't mind female readers on my blog/interacting, love my girlies, hey girlies~, but I do not write for y'all, and if you are a fetishizer. fuck off??? ew. How would you even do that on an x reader???

C/W: Soft Angst, Mentions of Murder, Mentions of Alcohol

Notes: mmmmmmmm he's not sure what to do when someone has more power over him and he certainly doesn't understand when they show a form of interest in him, interest that may cost him his sanity.... or his street cred.

Power Hungry...

You would think having power meant you could always get what you wanted. No matter the cost, time, or men it took to get it. So, why have you been forced to deal with this pesky thrown in your side?

One that had taken the form of an equally as pesky Imp.

After making it far into Mammon's little group you could say, you ruled a part of the greed ring. One that held a certain Imp and his gang of loan sharks. That's how you ended up in a game of tug and pull with the man. Well, more so like a cat and mouse. Only difference was you actually held power...

And that's something he hated.

It started when you stopped by an infamous amusement park in the greed ring. Simple check ups here and there, a few money disputes with some sticky fingered imps, even a little Jest with the parks main attraction. Though it was cut short when you heard the muffled moans and groans of someone.

Stepping out of the circus tent, you could see a poor soul tied up and blind folded to a broken pole, with a target painted on his stomach.

"Let's try this again, boy. Since that the broad ain't here to ruin it now."

Raising a brow to the statement you turned a bit to the harsh voice of an imp dressed in a pinstripe suit, pushing a rifle into a child's arms. Sighing, you took a deep breath before walking over,

"Now I know this IS hell, gentlemen, but I don't think public executions is a good look for our overall theme here. So if you could take your... dirty laundry out, that would be great."

You could hear a pin drop if it wasn't for the screaming guest on the rollercoasters behind you and the muffled music from inside of the tent. Crimson turned his head with a click of his tongue,

"Do you know who I even am, doll? I operate this part of greed if you know what's good-"

"Stop."

His eyebrow raised as he looked at you with a confused look while you just shook your head at him. A raised hand held out to him as you looked at your phone before glancing back at him.

"I didn't ask for all that. I asked you to take this, somewhere else. Oh, and before I leave you to it"

You stepped towards young Moxxie, poor thing hugging the rifle unsure of what to do until you took it from his hands with a smile. Which went away as quickly as it came as you pushed the rifle into Crimson chest, stepping away.

"Be a real man and do your own dirty work next time, doll."

Moxxie knew that look on his father face, the snarl of his lips, the twitch of his eye, and the dark rumble from his chest. At least they were nice to him, even if it was for a moment. Not that many people can walk away from his father like that, especially healthy and in one piece. One thought was common between father and son,

"They'll wind up dead tomorrow."

If only tomorrow would come quicker. It started with the occasional thug or grunt coming to your office on some terrible assassin improve before they were dealt with by the guards. Then it turned into loan shark showing up at your house trying to get you to sign some god awful contract, just to be met with the slam of a door.

That lasted for months on end until Mammon sent a personal note via a goon asking why he kept insisting on keeping his assistant distracted from their work. That caused the goons and thugs to stop coming, but that didn't stop him all together.

His latest attempt was to send Moxxie himself, and you must say, Moxxie is wonderfully gifted in music. You even started paying for music lessons recently and plan to surprise him for his birthday with them.

Poor thing was nothing like his father, you could proudly say that after the man showed up at your house, gold tooth shining brightly in the light from your home.

"I was starting to think you god cold feet or better yet gave up, doll."

"I swear to satan, call me that shit again and I'll-"

You rolled your eyes, flicking his forehead. You gently grabbed his hand and pull him inside, and swiftly shutting the door. Instructing him to take his shoes off, you walked deeper into the home as Crimson stood there in shock, unconsciously slipping off his shoes and following behind you.

"Is it normal for you to pull mob bosses into your house or is this a special occasion?"

"No, Only the ones I find cute. be happy you meet the minimum standard."

He was about to retaliate, but he was cut off by the soft smile planted on your face as you slid him a glass of whisky,

"Assuming you like your whisky neat, correct? Don't take you for a wine guy."

"I can enjoy a fine wine, I'm surprised you even have this. Never took you for one to have some class."

"I guess we all have our secrets, right?"

You softly clinked your glass with his as he stared at you with a look of indifference which you could only laugh at. The sound bringing him back as he watched you down the glass of whisky and set it down.

"But we could learn all about them on a proper date, yeah? It's getting late and I have a meeting tomorrow"

"Wait, a proper date? What the fuck did you think this was?"

"Only the worst murder attempt I've seen since the amusement park, but I look forward to the next one. Goodnight Crimson"

Before he even knew it he was on the step of the front door as you held a soft smile on your face once again. He was about to speak, but he was cut off when he felt the feeling of a kiss being planted on his cheek and the soft click of a door closing.

"––FOR SATAN'S SAKE!"

He yelled out, which was quickly met with you swinging open the door and hitting him in the stomach, telling him to stop yelling so late. Maybe power could get you everything you wanted, you just didn't think it would show up on your door step....

in the form of a pesky Imp.

[gyllenhaalstories]

Hi Laurie! 💛

You know what's coming, hehe 👀

I saw this in another fandom and now I'm sending the same question to a bunch of Jake girlies (gn) because it’s so interesting seeing everybody’s answers!

Who are your Top 3 Jake boys and why? Is there a specific piece of art (fic, gif, fan art, etc.) for them that you like a lot?

hiiiiiiiiii!!! 💖 i do know what's coming teehee! i love his characters so much. even if the movie is not up my alley, his character always stands out. i'll watch everything he's in just because i'm obsessed (except spirit untamed, it is against my principle to support this horrible version of spirit the stallion of the cimarron) i just love them like they're just so neat i love them so much. OKAY TIME TO CHOOSE.

Elwood Dalton

i cannot believe that davis was dethroned as my forever ultimate favorite character but he was. dalton is so special to me. i've been obsessed with him since the very beginning when i was looping videos to get his full name and start writing for him immediately. so he's been living in my mind rent from for a LONG and i hope he never leaves. i lost count of how many times i've watched the movie (especially the scenes with laura!!!), it's so good. i'm already seated for the sequel idc what people say i want it and i will love it! also, i love how dalton ressembles billy and lou! the scene where he punches the guy to death and tell him how he will perish was so hot like like welcome back lou bloom you were missed <3 dalton is funny, and suicidal and caring and violent and what more could i ask? yeah okay i could ask to use his titties as pillows to fall asleep on.

my absolute favourite dalton creations are the wonderful gifs that @stephendorff made! i proclaim myself as their biggest fan when it comes to jake's gifs because oh my god the talent!!! i adore the parallel gifsets, so let me link you to a bunch! omg me when + nice hoodie + so bloody yum + i will cover these men with hello kitty bandaids + need both of them at the same time.

Detective Loki

he's an obvious one! jack twist, donnie darko and detective loki must be the most well loved characters in this fandom FOR ALL THE RIGHT REASONS. i love loki. i'm convinced deep in my soul that he would absolutely despise me. i can't shut up, i'm clingy as fuck and we'd spend most of his rare free time watching barbie movies. but it could be nice! i'd pack him his lunch, i'd learn to iron his shirts, i'd follow him to his barber and beg the man to give me the same haircut... like, we'd have a good life! aside from getting eaten alive by the constant fear that loki is in danger but shh. i love loki so much, i love all of the mysterious details about him, i love that jake played such a big part into building this character.

there are SO many amazing fics for detective loki, and rightfully so! he deserves it! in my opinion, @det-loki is the best writer. star captures loki in such an unique way, her writing feels like deleted scenes & extra footage from the movie. i know i always recommend star when it comes to loki fics but if you've ever read what she's posted, you would do the same! @charliehoennam has also posted some amazing det loki fics recently that i cannot recommend enough!!! here are the links: cat n mouse, dinner date & the dinner party (my personal favourite!).

Tommy Cahill

when i watched brothers, i conveniently just... skipped the military scenes. so the movie was all about tommy and i loved it. wow what a sweet romcom. i just love him. he's fun and sweet and he has had it so rough with his family that treats him like a black sheep. his father is acting like tommy is the failure when the only failure i'm seeing is a parent who failed to love his child like he deserved. AND I WOULD GIVE HIM ALL THE LOVE HE NEEDS! endless unconditional love. all he wants is to have a family of his own and be happy and become a better person. i have no doubt that he has what it takes to achieve his goals. he's my beanie baby and i love him to the moon and back.

controversy alert! but... i'm not mad at tommy and grace for kissing (skipping most of sam scenes helps a lot) but like... he was nice to grace for the most part, he helped her with the kitchen, he was so fun with the kids... he can't do anything wrong you know? i have horrible morals, i'm aware. so i'll just link to the video of the kiss scene because i love it and i love watching it and i wish it was me.

my top 3 usually fluctuates, but i'd say that overall, it's the same five characters that are on rotation. dalton, loki, tommy, davis and right now the 5th position is switching between john kinley & jerry brinson. i do want to say that i was pleasantly surprised with how much i liked anthony swofford and brian taylor when i watched their respective movies, i didn't think i'd enjoy their characters much but it might be time to retire my #1 bald!jake hater title. it was so hard to choose though. i feel bad for the ones i left out. i love you danny! and billy! and donnie! and adam! and holden! and okay fine i'll shut up. i know i've told you already, but this was such a sweet initiative to go around and spread some joy!!! thank you for doing this, and for sending it to me as well! 🥰

[drama--universe]

Just perfect

Requested by @creepypastacrazier93: Warmly greet!🫰 I feel like Hwarang hasn't been here for a long time! So we can go back in time again, right? Yeo Wool x female reader (female or GN, up to you): The reader has feelings for Yeo Wool but is afraid of losing him as a friend if he doesn't feel the same way about her. In addition, he has many admirers and can have whoever he wants. So the reader tries on make-up to make her look more beautiful, but it doesn't work and she has it smeared and destroyed. Yeo Wool finds her and wants to know the reason because he knows his friend doesn't wear makeup. Again, I'll leave the rest up to you, but as I always say, something cuuuute!❤️❤️❤️

Pairing: Kim Yeo-Wool x gn!reader

Word Count: 1.0k words Warnings: insecurity (not really, but just to be sure), anxiety

Your fingers drummer against the wood beneath them, scratching ever so often as you tried to ignore the anxious feeling in your stomach. It felt like everyone was staring at you, whispering nasty things about you and laughing. Maybe it was your outfit, unlike the usual muted colors that you wore and now bright and vibrant, or maybe it was the makeup. It felt slightly heavy on your face, maybe you had done it too heavily but you wouldn't know since you never really used any except for the basic lip tint that your maid forced you to wear. It wasn't the first time people stared, even on the way here people would stare and whisper. One disadvantage of being friends with Yeo-Wool, everyone would also know you and thus everyone realized that you were looking different due to the makeup. No said something to your face, so you hoped that it was positive whispers and looks. Then again, you knew how cruel people could be and thus it could also be negative...

Your anxiety lessened as a familiar figure stepped into view, sitting across from you and giving you a bright smile. Unfortunately, that smile dropped immediately as he saw you. Yeo-Wool, unlike most men, knew a lot of things about makeup. He dabbled in the area himself, sometimes wearing it himself or helping other people do their own. He liked the ability to make others feel pretty, he found it fun to do. However, when he saw the makeup on you it was easy to see that it didn't fit you too much. You looked girly, not that that was bad, but it was too much. The layers were easy to see and not even fully matching, the lip tint was very vibrant and the eyeliner was too big to look natural. In other words, it was a small disaster that made Yeo-Wool wonder why you would even do something like this. You never cared for looks much, preferring to let your own beaty shine without any help of products.

"Oh, dear. Who let you out like this?" Yeo-Wool spoke and you froze before looking down, trying to hide yourself from view as you tried to ignore the tears welling up in your eyes. Yeo-Wool didn't bother to say anything else and instead got up again, guiding you outside and to a secluded place. He sat you down before pulling some wipes from his pocket, slowly raising it up to your face. Wiping away some of the makeup along with the tears, he shushed you at the same time as a way of comfort. Soon, most of the makeup was removed and your face was left bare but still stained in tears.

"What is going on?" Yeo-Wool paused, looking at you with great care as he waited for an answer. You sniffed again before mumbling the answer, way too quiet for Yeo-Wool to hear and thus he asked you to repeat what you said. So you did.

"I wanted to look prettier..." You whispered and Yeo-Wool leaned back slightly, shaking his head and lifting your gaze to him. "You don't need makeup for that, darling. You know that." He speaks and you sniffed again, soon dropping your gaze once again as your grip tightened on his sleeve. Just like the tears, your feelings started pouring out of your mouth as you sobbed.

"I wanted you to look at me! I want you to like me back or tell me if I should move on. I don't... I don't want to hurt." You sobbed out as you leaned forward, not wanting to see the expression from the man in front of you as you confessed your feelings to him. Silence took over, minus the soft sniffles from you of course, as Yeo-Wool processed the confession.

"Oh, darling. You don't need to change yourself for that. You are perfect just the way you are and I can see that very clearly." He said and you looked back up at him, a bit confused at what he was saying. It was almost comical looking as the realization hit you, finally getting what he was saying. Your eyes widened as you let go of his sleeve and pointing at yourself before pointing at him. Yeo-Wool just smiled before leaning forward and planting a kiss on your forehead before standing up straight and pulling you with him.

"Let's get you cleaned up decently." Yeo-Wool said and pulling you through the streets while holding your hand in his. You could only smile brightly at the action, following him closely until you reached his house. It was quite funny as you raced to his room past all maids and officials, you think you might have ran past his father at one point but you both decided to ignore that. The door was quickly slammed shut as you entered, unlocking your hands and turning to face each other before bursting into laughter. Like you usually did, you settled on his bed while Yeo-Wool focused on finding something to remove the residue of makeup on your face. When he did, he was quick to sit besides you and carefully wiped your face. It took a few seconds before he stopped and threw the towel somewhere else.

"Now, back to our previous subject." He spoke as he cupped your face, softly placing a kiss on your nose again before moving to your cheek and then your lips. You just sat frozen as your brain tried to process what was happening. When your brain finally caught up, you could only gasp before hiding your face in your hands. You couldn't help the stupid giggle that escaped you as you tried to regain your composure. Yeo-Wool pulled your hands away and lifted your gaze up, giving you a wicked smile.

"Now, no need to be shy."

[t-he-art-of-beauty]

so funny to me that people are accusing rtd of having done all of this just to pander to the fans when he's out there giving the biggest i don't give a single fuck about anyone's opinion canon is mine to play with until it breaks energy i have ever seen in him, even saying that loudly in bts interviews

the only fan he's pandering to, quite frankly, is himself. and he's as much of a queer dt girly (gn) with good taste in men as all of us are sooo

[puckpocketed]

not gonna add to the vegas discourse floating around — if u have been on my blog u know how i feel about my golden girls. WHAT I WILL SAY IS. non-vegas fans have reached out in my inbox and privately in dms to hold fins and a lot of them were based in krakenblr. i will never regret hopping in and having that team and that community be my entry point to hockey <3 so many lovely people keepin it silly AINT NO WAY some musty hockey men are getting between me and the girlies (gn) RAAAHHHHH

[jolalibrary]

Sending this to a bunch of Pedro girlies (gn) because it’s fun seeing everybody’s answers!!!

Who are your top 3 Pedro boys? 🤍

oh anon, I saw this floating around and I was sat cackling to myself thinking I was safe, but you struck me, and I am nothing but loyal to inbox rules (it was so much fun seeing everyone’s responses I won’t lie)

now. onto I, jo of the undercover, the jolapeño, the jo (am I stalling? maybe) OKAY, for reals, here we go:

1. Francisco “let me write sucking you off in the air” Morales is number one. I don’t know what happened to me (except his face, eyes, sass, arms, face) but I am deeply on my knees for him. I think of ideas and somehow he knocks on my brain and goes “I can do that” and I am not about to tell sir competent he cannot, so now my wip list is fucked. <mumbles: wish I could be fucked by him> who said that?

2. Javier “you love me in pink” Peña is in at number two. the man that brought me here, the man I adore so much and need to write more of but keeps rereading LNT like new stuff will write itself. I love his complexity, I love that he cares and that he does so with all he has, and I also love that he swears like a sailor and we can have a “fuck” “fuck” “motherfucker” battle. also, again, he’s the first, he’s like that first real boyfriend that you remember. <mumbles: I’ll wipe your face for you bby>

3. The third choice was hard, anon (like the men above are for my readers). because I could choose a few, but I dug deep and chose Din “let me show you the planets and how many different ways we can fuck without you seeing me” Djarin. because I love all versions of him*. I also love the stories I have planned for him, and that he wears a helmet (I have a thing, alright, see my masterlist, there’s masks galore). but also because under it, he is soft and competent and also pulls some of my best writing out of me (imo, of course). <sings; i can show you the worldddd>

*the reason I say all of him is that most people would have assumed Joel, but I’m heavily attracted to one particular idea of Joel (post apoc, before ellie) because of that one scene and b&f’s and how it made me gasp.

now, I think I’ve done alright here. you didn’t ask for the jo-explanations but you got those for free 😂🌝 I loved this ask, thank you so much!

[carmillas-girlfriend]

🐈‍⬛?

Hello and thank you so much for playing my silly little ask game! (I'm totally still playing and I'm happy to collect all the emojis and write a little essay for every single character.)

Oh happy day! Someone wants to know my Frenchie thoughts! I really like Frenchie a lot. I mean I could sit here and say, "I love this character!" but that applies to every single OFMD character, so it would get redundant.

I love the sneakiness behind the writing of Frenchie as a character: he's highly superstitious and believes in things like crystals in women's bodies, witches, fairies, and etc. but he's also incredibly smart and a very quick thinker. We know this because of Party Boat Pyramid Scheme! He was able to get *a lot* of money from those macaroni fops with the help of Oluwande and Abshir. And it's highly highly likely that the only way Stede was able to get the info about those macaroni idiots was with the help of Frenchie, Abshir, and Oluwande. Like, sure, Stede pulled off the fuckery but he was only able to do it with their groundwork.

We also know that he is willing to do difficult and scary things to protect his friends. This is first illustrated in beginning of s2 after Ed shoots Izzy and Frenchie, Jim, and Archie get Izzys body in a hidden place below decks and care for him, obviously very against Ed's wishes. Ed corners Frenchie against a (counter?) and physically intimidates him but Frenchie still won't let up that he's taking care of Izzy and tried to get Ed away from Izzy until the very very end.

And plus that scene where Frenchie goes to check on Ed during Kraken Era and Ed says, "Do you know there's a bird that never touches land?" And follows it with "We're going to sail and raid and raise hell forever." And Frenchie, under threat of death at this point, can do nothing but say "sounds like a plan" while both men are very clearly tortured and heartbroken. It genuinely makes me want to cry.

Okay lol haha, enough feelings and crying. Time to pivot.

For the LONGEST time I was a Frenchie aroace truther and I still think it would be fun to HC him as that but as it stands I am a Wee John/Frenchie shipper. I love Room People and they would be great together. HOWEVER, in an upcoming fic I'm planning to write - Frenchie and Roach get married actually. So we can have some Frenchie/Roach as a treat for all of us. I KNOW that Ouizzy is a popular ship, and it's everyone's not just *right* but *God given duty* to ship Izzy Hands with who and whatever, but I'm such a FangIzzy girly [gn] that I just can't in good conscious ship Ouizzy. I'm so sorry Ouizzy guys!

Favorite Frenchie moment as captured on Twitter:

[domesticated-whores]

hello, I've decided to do a thing that no one asked for, solely for myself. and that is heavily over-analyzing random bullshit about myself. starting with

over-analyzing the fuck out of my gender

get ready for so much useless information about the inner-workings of how I identify... longish post.

I think a lot (if not most) nonbinary/genderqueer people have a simplified gender that they publicly identify as and a different, more complex gender that they identify as internally or in queer-specific spaces.

I'm pretty open in general about being genderqueer. I don't really identify as nonbinary, it isn't my preferred term for what I am, but since I understand that it's a more common term that most people outside of queer spaces know at least at a surface level I'll use it sometimes. I don't usually get any deeper than that. I'll tolerate she/her pronouns (I'm afab and generally feminine, and I'm incredibly aware of that), if asked for my pronouns (rare, I'm very feminine presenting) then I'll say "I'm cool with anything, slight preference on they/them" because that's a lie, but it's simple and I don't care quite enough to fight anyone on it. I was out as he/him transmasc for a little while before it got to be not worth it to explain presentation =/= gender or trying to look uncomfortably masc in order to be taken seriously, so there are still people that use he/him pronouns for me irl which is nice, but I don't get *enough* dysphoria from being misgendered to try to get others to use them.

But I do have some specific shit for my gender, also. I've been studying the hell out of this shit for maybe 10 years. I'm autistic as fuck, I like researching and labeling and categorizing things, so I put a lot of thought and reflection into my gender and I really have no place to share it because no one really cares to have me deep-dive into the details for them.

First and foremost, I'm cassgender. In case you don't know what that is, it's when someone feels indifferent to their gender or generally feels it's unimportant. Different from something like agender because cassgender people still can *have* other gender identities, it isn't lack of gender identity, it's just that there isn't a super strong connection to it.

To me, I don't care if I'm misgendered really at all. I do have a preference on how I'm referred to, I do have a gender, but I also don't really think it matters in the grand scheme of things. If it's more convenient to me, I have zero issues pretending to be a cis woman. Am I? No. But I don't think much would really be different if I was, so I don't see why it really matters. I personally use almost all "gendered" words in a gender-neutral way (unless someone tells me they're uncomfy with it, where I still see the words themselves as gn but respect people enough not to use it for them), I understand gendered connotations but genuinely fail to see how they matter. Again, full respect that they matter to most people, but I personally don't see it so I won't act like I do.

Even when I did care more about my gender identity and being out publicly, it wasn't because of strong attachment to my gender. It was more of a sense of "I researched for so many hours finding the right labels, I'm going to use them openly dammit!!"

I'm also a transmasc femboy. I use he/him pronouns for myself and generally prefer those (though, again, I'm cool with any), but I'll use almost any gendered terms for myself interchangeably/by situation. For example, I tend to prefer feminine familial terms (I'm my cats' momma, I'd be an aunt if my brother had kids in the future, etc.) while I usually opt for more masculine basic terms (man rather than woman, masc pronouns, boyfriend if I'm in a relationship, etc.) and alternating on terms of endearment or authority (god/goddess, sir/ma'am, daddy/mommy, prince/princess, king/queen, etc.). If it's in lighthearted/meme terms, anything flies (girlie, "I'm just a girl," feminine urge, "girls don't want men, they want--" etc. isn't misgendering because it's silly and fun).

I'm afab, feminine as hell, and not really looking to transition medically at all, so I don't at all mind feminine shit because, uh, obviously. I wear dresses and eyeliner sometimes and have long hair and a petite, slight hourglass body and all that shit. My regular outfit is leggings and a crop top, it's a very titties out look tbh. I don't bind (use to, might start experimenting with it again when it gets colder but I can't with the tops I like for warm weather and I don't like using tape) or anything. If I could magically look more physically androgynous in the ways that I want, that'd be sick as hell, but I can't so I don't mind my body that much. I was on t for maybe 3-4 months and I got some minimal bottom growth and slight voice changing, but I was getting too many changes that I didn't really fuck with for my preferred brand of androgyny and a lot of things I wanted t didn't help, so I stopped. Like, if I could get free and easy top surgery or a reduction and somehow grow 4-6 inches in height that would be splendid, but one of those is too expensive to justify how mild my discomfort is and the other is literally impossible so I can live with what I have.

I also really think drag would be cool as hell for gender reasons, but unfortunately I'm something of a broke bitch and even being thrifty with it is out of my budget at the moment. Which is fine, I keep it on a back burner in case I have money to invest into a new thing that I might get burnt out on before it's even worth what I spent. I'm just not touching that when I'm struggling to do anything beyond pay rent and feed my cats. But it's certainly a gender thing that I put a lot of thought into.

I don't know. Again, I'm cassgender so I don't really care heavily about any of this, I'm just an overthinker so I know it because of that. It was just information sitting in my brain that I didn't know what to do with, so I'm dumping it here. I mostly want to deep-dive into my sexuality and romantic orientation, I just had to post this first because it is really connected to gender things. I have an essay-worth to say on my sexuality because I actually care a lot about that shit and I'm just at the end (I believe?) of still figuring it out, while I was pretty sure on my gender for a while and just had to settle on accurate labels for it mostly.

[batsarebetterthanpeople]

Ok so the Calico Jack stunt double who came in to whip Taika's balls dropped a video about his experience, in which he says "and then every take after (whip my balls) he did something a little different. So it was 'whip my balls' it was 'whip my bum' he pulled out his pistol at one point and was like 'life or death situation I'm actually gonna shoot you right now, go' so I whip the gun"

I, my friends, consider each and every one of these shots to be cannon in my heart. And I'm a dirty nasty little Calicobeard girlie(gn) so I want to talk about that gun scene as it relates to this

(whoever's gif this is I'm sorry for not crediting u I found it on Google images)

In both of these scenes Ed is pointing guns at cute boys to get them to do sexy violence to him. This is an established thing that he does. He's done it twice now.

There are two possible reasons for this, my friends! These two options are not necessarily mutually exclusive so there's more of three options and the third one is my favorite.

Option one: this is just how Ed flirts. He whips out his gun the way you might buy someone a drink. He thinks he looks sexy when waving his gun around and he wants men to see that and be into it. He twirls his hair and says "you know what would be cute and fun and manic pixie dream girl of me?" and then he whips out the gun

Option two: Calico Jack likes having guns pointed at him by hot people. It gets his fuckin blood pumping and his dick hard. Ed has correctly clocked that Jack and Stede are both insane and is like, "awe yeah this'll get him for sure it always works on Jack" and then points his gun at Stede in the stab me scene.

Option three (synthesis): this is just how Ed flirts BECAUSE every man he has ever been sexually attracted to is the kind of man who is crazy enough to have a gun waved in his face and think "oh yeah that's hot. Makes me want to do sexy violence to him." Ed is a master of goading these hoes into whipping/stabbing/otherwise hurting him in a sexy way. He knows what deranged men like and it's being threatened at gun point. He has a type and he has adjusted his flirting style accordingly.