#somethings not right with her i can feel it in my gut | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

zyafics-recs · 2 days ago

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reblogging comment review from @zyafics

first and foremost, the color scheme for this series is GORGEOUS, the purple pairs well with the angst of the series and i’m so ready for it (also so proud that u learned how to get the gradient function!! ☺️)

secondly, how DARE u not tag me i am flabbergasted, heartbroken, overlooking the golden gate bridge rn

ANYWAYS, i have seven minutes before lecture starts so here’s my lousy and incoherent annotations below ⬇️

You’d always known Rafe wasn’t the easiest guy to love. He was complicated, angry, reckless—but so were you. And in some messed-up way, that’s why you two worked. Or at least, why you thought you did. You were just as stubborn, just as damaged. But now, as you sipped your drink and looked around, something felt off. Your gut was tight, and that nagging feeling that’d been growing restless under your skin since the breakup only grew stronger the longer you stood there.

i’m so ready to see how toxic this can get

You pushed yourself off the railing, discarding your drink on a table before moving through the crowd, past people you knew but didn’t bother with. Your mind was set on one thing—Rafe. You were done with the break. You had your space. It’s time to get back together. It was never even really a question. It was just the way things worked with you two.

love a reader who knows what she wants and goes after it

You only caught glimpses of empty rooms along the way. You hadn’t seen him since the break, and part of you didn’t want to admit how much that messed you up. How much he messed you up. Your steps slowed as you neared the hall that led to the back of the house, the sound of voices filtering through the air. You recognized some, laughed at the drunken ramblings, until one voice cut through the noise. Rafe’s.

oh god

You didn’t stop. You couldn’t. You told yourself you just needed to see him, just talk to him, tell him this break had gone on long enough, that you were done with the games. That’s when you heard it again—her laugh. It was light, flirtatious, the kind of laugh that made your stomach turn into a million different directions because you knew exactly what it meant.

my stomach is doing flips

She was smiling, laughing softly at something he’d said, her fingers brushing through her hair as if she didn’t have a care in the world. Your breath caught in your throat as you watched his hands move, tying the knot in her bikini with such gentle precision like he’d done it a thousand times. The kind of softness he used to have with you. And then he said it, his voice teasing, amused like this was some kind of inside joke between them.

"God, this is just landing right in my lap, isn’t it?"

i would need a gun

He laughed quietly, his lips brushing against Sofia’s shoulder as he tied the last knot, and the way he touched her—like she was something to be savored—sent a rush of pure, burning humiliation straight through your chest.

i would crash out so hard rn

After everything you’d been through together, after all the times you had to pull him out of his own darkness, after the nights spent in his arms when you thought you couldn’t breathe because your whole family was gone—after years of being his and him being yours—how the fuck could he move on when you’d been rotting away in self loathing for pushing him away?

SICKENING

Without a single warning. Not a text, not a stupid call, just pure indifference. No respect or regard for you. Nome of them. Everything you’d just seen replayed in your mind—Rafe, her, the way he touched her like she meant something to him.

i support women’s wrong to do mass destruction

With someone else. You pressed a hand to your stomach, your head hurting. The idea of Sofia, of Rafe being with someone else in ways that only you knew—ways that had always been yours—made you feel like you were being torn apart.

THIS IS MAKING ME UNBELIEVABLY SICK

You could still remember the night your life changed—the phone call, the horrible, gut-wrenching moment when you learned that your family’s private plane had gone down. Your parents. Your sister. Gone. Just like that. And Rafe had been the one to pull you through it. He was the one who had held you as you cried so hard you thought you were going to die, who sat with you in silence when you couldn’t bring yourself to speak, who stayed with you every single night because you were terrified to be alone in a haunted mansion that now felt like a mausoleum.

this paragraph is so beautifully-crafted i had to highlight it - okay back to our regularly scheduled program

A connection, a bond forged in shared pain, in the kind of trauma that no one else really got. Maybe that was why you were so obsessed with each other. Maybe it was fucked up, but you couldn’t imagine anyone else understanding you the way Rafe did.

TOXICITY’S FINEST COUPLE

You could still feel the weight of his head on your shoulder that night, years ago, when his mom passed. The silent sobs that shook his body, the way he’d held onto you. That was the real Rafe—the one he hid from everyone else. The one who was lost and broken underneath all the anger. And you’d seen him, really seen him in ways no one else ever could. Not Sofia. Not anyone.

exactly he’s YOURS (mine…?)

His face twisted with frustration as he looked over his shoulder, something catching his attention. He started waving, yelling at someone, his voice cutting through the night, “Rafe! Dude, get over here!”

you fucking NARC

“God, what is wrong with me?” you muttered, your voice quavering as the words tumbled out. “Why the fuck am I crying over him? I shouldn’t be crying over him.” You slammed your palm against the steering wheel, angry, disgusted with yourself.

she’s so me

“Fuck,” you hissed, tears streaming down your face. Your throat burned as the memories came flooding back, memories of all the nights you’d spent together, of him holding you while you cried yourself to sleep, of the way he’d pulled you out of the gloom when you thought you’d never get back up again. You thought he’d always be that person for you, the one who understood your broken pieces because he had his own. You’d always fit together perfectly.

oh my god i fear i need her to do the best revenge arc

The sliding doors let out a grating beep as you entered, and the air inside was stale and heavy, reeking of floor cleaner and cheap perfume. You adjusted your grip on your purse, strutting past the aisles with your head high even though everything inside you felt like it was falling apart.

again, i’m always in awe of ur descriptions it makes me so giggly and excited to see how well u constructed ur setting

“I don’t know what the fuck that was but save the fucking dramatics, okay?”

should’ve bought a glock w those pregnancy tests - i would start TWEAKING so hard

💌 — this fic is BEAUTIFUL (ohmygod my professor arrived, let me make this QUICK) i absolutely love how u created this atmosphere of anger, resentment, desperation and neediness. because u captured the angst incredibly well, and how u built up to it—the aches, the emotions—were well-paced and made you feel everything on a deeper, more slowburn way. i also LOVE how the interconnectedness of how topper and rafe are best friends, and she’s his COUSIN, and how this man SNITCHED to rafe when she was driving away. i love-hate that scene bc it builds so much more tension, but i would be fucking pissed at topper. lastly, as always your descriptions are one of my favorite parts of your writing and i highlighted them for my annotations. so so PROUD of u for starting this series and i will make u complete even if its the last thing i do 🔪

LOVED YOU AT YOUR WORST - r.c series - ONE

pairings: ex!sweethearts; rafe x thornton!reader; rafe x sofia. chapter warnings: none (angst)

The bass from the speakers rattled the glass in your hand as you leaned against the porch railing, eyes scanning the backyard for him—Rafe.

It had been a long month.

Longer than you thought it would be. Usually, when you and Rafe had your little “breaks,” they lasted about a week, maybe two at most. It was always something stupid, a screaming match that ended with slammed doors and his truck peeling out of your driveway. But it never lasted. It couldn’t. You’d known each other too long, been through too much, and deep down, there was this unspoken truth—he’d always come back. Or, you would.

But this time was different.

This time, he wasn’t calling or showing up at your window in the middle of the night, eyes tired and sorry, pulling you into his arms. The space between you had been growing wider since his dad died. And sure, maybe it was your fault for what you said after Ward’s death—But it was the truth.

Still, you hadn’t expected him to shut you out completely. Two months. Two months of silence. And the only thing you’d heard about him since was through Ruthie, Topper’s new girlfriend, of all people. A random comment at Mase’s place—something about how Rafe had been hanging around some pogue girl named Sofia.

You’d rolled your eyes at that. Rafe? With some Pogue? Yeah, right. You’d pretended not to care when she tossed it out like it was nothing

You weren’t stupid.

But then there was Ruthie—blocking your path, her wide smile dripping with the kind of smugness that set your teeth on edge. She looked like she was reveling in your misery and that little giggle she let out only made it worse.

"So glad you could make it!" she sang out, her voice too sweet, too bright. Her eyes flickered over you like she was sizing you up, taking stock of every inch of your perfectly put-together outfit.

You forced a smile, “Yeah, well, wouldn’t miss a party like this,” you said, keeping your tone casual.

You weren’t in the mood for whatever game she was playing.

“Oh, I just bet,” she replied, her smile growing wider. She stepped closer, her breath reeking of cheap wine, and you had to resist the urge to roll your eyes. Ruthie always drank too much at these things.

What the hell was her problem? She always acted like she knew something you didn’t, like she held the keys to all the dirty little secrets in Kildare, and she loved dangling them in front of people just to watch them squirm.

“Ruthie, I swear to God—” you began, but she cut you off, her grin widening.

“Oh, honey,” she cooed, her voice dripping with fake sympathy, “don’t get mad at me. I’m just the messenger. You should really be talking to Rafe about this.” She took a step back, still smiling, and glanced over her shoulder. “He’s around, you know. You can go find him yourself. See how cozy he’s gotten with her.”

You bit your tongue, jaw, forcing yourself to stay calm. She was trying to get under your skin, like the snake she’d always been. You couldn’t believe Top was lonely and horny enough to finally fall into her claws.

“Thanks for the tip,” you gave her a tight lipped grimace, brushing past her, didn’t try and wait for her reply.

And then you heard hers. No fucking way.

She was there, with him.

You moved forward, the hallway barely lit as you reached the half-closed bathroom door. Your breath hitched, hands trembling as you peeked through the small crack, unable to stop yourself from looking.

There they were.

"God, this is just landing right in my lap, isn’t it?"

You froze.

You stumbled back, your heart pounding in your ears as Rafe’s words repeated over and over in your head. Landing right in my lap. What the fuck was this?

Your heart clenched, vision blurring as what you were seeing slammed right into you. You backed away, your hand flying to your mouth to stop the sob from escaping. But it didn’t help. Not even à little. The tears burned, and you turned quickly, practically running back through the house and out the door before anyone could see the humiliating mess you were becoming.

It was real. He moved on. In two fucking months.

That’s all it had taken for him to replace you. To be done with you. He was over you. Just like that.

Your head spun as you stumbled down the steps, out to the street where your car was parked. You couldn’t breathe. Your breaths were coming out too fast, too shallow, and your hands were shaking so hard you had to press them against your knees to hold yourself up.

What the hell was wrong with you? You hadn’t even had anything to drink.

But your stomach was rolling, twisting in knots so tight you could barely stand straight. You leaned against the side of your car, the cool metal grounding you to reality for a second before a wave of nausea hit, forcing you to double over and retch onto the pavement. Tears stung your eyes as you coughed, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

You felt dizzy, disgusted even, everything you thought you knew, everything you thought was yours, had been ripped out from under you.

“Look who’s still standing!” Topper’s voice. He was laughing as he strolled over, hands shoved in his pockets, that same carefree grin on his face that he always had at parties. “Jesus, what did you have to drink? You look like you’ve been hit by a truck.”

Normally, you might have had something to say back, maybe a fiery insult or a roll of your eyes. But right now, everything felt like too much. You couldn’t say a word. You could barely breathe.

Your cousin stopped beside you, his grin dropping as he finally looked at you. “Hey, what’s wrong?” He leaned down, trying to catch your eyes. “You good? You look kinda—"

You cut him off, the question was heavy, like a lump lodged in your throat. “Did you know?”

He blinked, the confusion spreading across his face. “Know what?”

You swallowed, your heart hammering in your chest as you forced the words out, your voice shaking. “About Rafe and Sofia.”

You hated saying her name.

Hated that you’d been forced to know it by heart. Topper’s smile dropped, his expression changing.

He didn’t answer. He didn’t have to, you knew him well enough to read his micro expressions. You clenched your fists, it felt like you were the only one in the island who’d been let out of the secret.

Surely, your friends, your only family would’ve told you something right? It’s not like you were on a remote island away from them. You’d spent the last month in New York, not in the fucking jungle. You visited occasionally. You were a call away.

“Did everyone fucking know?”

Topper exhaled slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look, we didn’t think it was serious. You know how it is with you two—you’ve done this before. Played with other people…”

Played with other people. Like you and Rafe were just some game, a revolving door of heartbreak and hookups. It didn’t make sense. You’d always known how it worked, understood how these things went—sure, you’d had your minor flings, and he’d had his, but it was never real.

You stumbled back, feeling like you might collapse. “Oh my God, I’m going to be sick again.”

He reached out, obviously concerned since he hadn’t seen you in this desperate state in years, “Hey, hey, calm down. Look, it’s not like it means anything. Rafe’s just—he’s going through a lot with his dad dying, and he… he’s just messing around. You know how he gets.”

But the words did nothing to soothe you. They only made it worse—how everyone knew. How they’d all watched Rafe move on, while you were stuck, still reeling from the breakup, thinking he’d come back like he always did. And he was just out there, with her.

Topper was still talking, still trying to rationalize it, but his words were like static now, blending into the noise of the party behind you. “It doesn’t mean anything,” he was saying. “You know how it goes. You always end up back together. He’s just doing whatever to distract himself.”

That word. Distract himself. Like your entire relationship could be boiled down to that—a series of distractions until you decided to come back to each other, to pick up the pieces and pretend everything was okay.

You had been seventeen, and losing them all at once had killed something inside of you. But he was there. He wasn’t perfect—far from it—but he knew what it was like to grieve.

He knew loss. He understood. Because you’d been there for him two years earlier, when his mom lost her battle to cancer. You could still see the look in his eyes that day—fourteen years old and already drowning in so much anger and sadness, like the world had ripped something essential out of him.

The way he cried at her funeral when he thought no one was watching, and you’d found him, sat beside him in the cold, letting him cry without saying a word. You hadn’t started dating yet, hadn’t crossed that line, but something had changed between you two in those moments.

How could it all come down to this? To you standing here, feeling like the world was ending while he moved on, laughing and touching someone else like nothing you had ever been through mattered?

Was that it? Did that one moment, that one argument about Ward, erase everything you’d done for him?

All the times you’d been there, the way you had comforted him when he felt like his life was spiraling? You remembered exactly what you’d said a month after the funeral, when your boyfriend blamed everyone but Ward for his own death. "He wasn’t a good person, baby. I know he was your dad, but you can’t pretend like he didn’t fuck you up."

You hadn’t even said it to hurt him, not really. It was just the truth. Ward had been a terrible father, controlling and manipulative, and you’d spent years watching Rafe try to live up to some impossible standard, chasing his father’s approval like it would ever be enough. But that didn’t make it easier for him to hear. You should have known better. You should have known how raw he was after losing his dad, how complicated his feelings were.

But instead, you’d been brutal. Honest, but brutal.

And now, two months later, here you were—staring at the empty street, wondering if you’d pushed him too far. If that one moment of honesty was enough to make him forget everything else. Now you were just the ex, the crazy one who didn’t know when to keep her mouth shut.

“Fuck, why did I say that?” you whispered to yourself, voice shaking. Why couldn’t you have just let it go?

But then another clarity of anger took over you, pushing away the guilt that had been building inside. So you’d been too harsh about Ward. So you’d said what everyone else had been too scared to say. It wasn’t like you’d been wrong. Ward had messed Rafe up.

Everyone knew it. He knew it, deep down.

You gritted your teeth, staring out at the dark street, the low hum of the party still buzzing faintly behind you. You were never going to get that picture out of your head. Like they hadn’t just met, like you hadn’t spent years learning how to calm Rafe when he spiraled, how to hold him together when he couldn’t hold himself.

Your chest tightened again, a bitter taste rising in your throat.

"Look, you're emotional, okay? I get it. Maybe it's that time of the month or something. You know how you always get when your hormones go crazy."

The words got to you, but not in the way he probably thought they would. At first, it pissed you off, like it always did when people tried to downplay your emotions. Everyone always said you felt too much. That you were out of control.

But then…

You stopped moving, blinking rapidly as his words spiraled around in your brain. ‘Time of the month’, he'd said.

Your heart started doing summersaults, your stomach dropping as the idea settled in. You grabbed your phone, hands trembling like leaves as you opened the calendar app. You scrolled, trying to think, trying to remember when you’d last…fuck.

You hadn’t had your period in… so long.

Almost two months. No. No, no, no. This couldn’t be happening. It had to be some kind of fucked up joke.

You felt light-headed as you reached for your car again, your body shaking so badly you could barely stand against the door. "Shit."

How could you not have noticed?

Topper noticed the change in you instantly, his brow furrowing. "What’s wrong with you?" he asked, his tone softening a little. "You okay?"

You couldn’t even form a sentence. Your brain was too full of what-ifs. Two months late.

You hadn't even thought about it until now—everything had taken so much space in your head that you hadn't noticed the most obvious sign. This wasn’t possible. Your hand flew to your stomach, almost instinctively. You had no idea what to do with the panic creeping up your throat.

“Shit,” You hissed, this time louder, trying to push the growing dread down. But it wouldn't go away.

He was still staring at you, “What? What’s going on? You’re freaking me out.”

But you were already backing away, shaking your head, “I—I need to go,” You mumbled, barely hearing yourself.

Your cousin moved quickly to block your path as you tried to make your way toward the door. That kind of protective streak only made you want to shove past him even more.

"You’re not driving in this state." he warned you, voice firm, his hands up like he was trying to physically stop you.

You just glared at him, “Fucking watch me.”

He didn’t budge. "You get in that car and I'm calling Rafe," he said, sounding dead serious.

You couldn’t believe it. Your head was already spinning, and he was trying to guilt-trip you like this was some kind of helpful thing to do? You threw your hands up in frustration, voice rising, cracking. "He’s too busy fucking Sofia. Knock yourself out."

The words felt like venom in your mouth, the bitterness rolling off your tongue. You didn’t care how harsh they sounded. You didn’t care about anything anymore except getting away from this suffocating stupid place. Before he could say anything else, you made your move. You pushed past him with all your strength, chest hurting with the urge to feel something other than this suffocating mess of emotions and confusion.

Your hands shook as you fumbled for your keys. You managed to unlock the door, sliding into the driver’s seat, the cool leather biting into your skin.

You needed to think. But all you could think about was that one, terrifying realization: you might be pregnant.

Your breath hitched, terror swirling around your chest. The calendar app was still open on your phone, the dates staring back at you like a flashing red warning sign, daring you to confront the truth you’d been ignoring. Two months. Two months without a period. And you hadn’t even noticed. You pressed a hand to your stomach again, heart pounding as if it was trying to escape your chest. This couldn’t be happening. Not now. Not like this.

You weren’t thinking clearly—shit, you weren’t thinking at all, but you couldn’t stay here. Not with Topper trying to baby you, not with him out there, living his best life like you didn’t even exist.

You turned the key, the engine roaring to life, and just as you gripped the wheel, ready to peel out of the driveway, Topper bolted in front of the car, planting himself right there like some kind of human roadblock. Fucking idiot. His arms were stretched out wide, like he could somehow stop you by sheer willpower.

“You’re not doing this, I swear to God, you’re not!” he yelled, his voice frantic, echoing off the dark street. He looked panicked, pleading even, like he was convinced you’d actually go through with it.

You gritted your teeth, eyes narrowing on him through the windshield. “Top, I swear, you have three seconds before I run you over.”

“Are you serious right now?” he yelled, his voice cracking with disbelief. But he didn’t move. “You think I’m letting you drive like this? You’re out of your fuckin’ mind!”

Your fingers gripping the wheel so hard it hurt. You weren’t bluffing. You were too wound up, too out of control. The only thing keeping you from flooring him was the fact that, deep down, you knew your cousin didn’t deserve it.

You just needed to get out of here.

“Move!” you screamed, “I’m not joking’, Topper. Get the fuck out of my way!”

Your brain stopped. It was like everything had been sucked out of you. Your hands froze on the wheel, your entire body locking up as you looked to your right and saw him—Rafe. Right there in the yard.

And she was with him. He had his arm draped around her casually, like she belonged there.

Like he belonged there, just standing in the open, so stupidly comfortable in his new life. His head turned when he heard Topper call out, and your eyes locked for a less than a second. A moment too long. A moment that broke something inside you.

While Topper was distracted, his attention on Rafe, you made your move. You slammed your foot on the gas, tires screeching as the car lurched forward, swerving just enough to dodge Topper’s stunned figure. You heard him yell after you, but his voice faded into the background noise as you sped away.

You didn’t look back. Not at Top, not at Rafe.

The only thing you could hear was the sound of your own heartbeat pounding in your ears, drowning out everything else. You hated this. Hated that you were crying. Hated that you’d let yourself get to this point.

You’d told yourself you were stronger than this—that after everything you’d been through, you didn’t need him or anyone else. But here you were, falling apart like some pathetic excuse of a mess because of him. Because he had always been there, hadn’t he? After the crash, after you lost everything, he was the one constant, the one person who kept you from completely losing it. You’d relied on him so much. Too much.

You pulled into the parking lot of the nearest drugstore, your hands still shaking as you put the car in park. The tears had dried up on the drive over, replaced by a cold determination. You didn’t want to be here. Didn’t want to even think about what you were about to do.

The moment you stepped out of your car and into the harsh fluorescent lighting of the drugstore, you felt completely out of place—like a stranger in your own skin. You hadn’t even thought about how ridiculous you must’ve looked until you caught your reflection in one of the store’s glass windows. Your hair, still perfect from earlier, framed your face in soft waves, and your makeup was flawless, despite the crying. The designer dress you were wearing—sleek, red, and worth more than half the shit in this store��with its sticky floors and white lights, it made you feel like an alien. Like you didn’t belong.

You caught the eyes of a couple of people loitering outside the entrance as you walked in, their stares lingering a little too long, murmuring to each other behind smirks. You knew they were talking about you. They always did, kook queen, overdressed, out of touch, bitch, whatever they wanted to call you.

You always did this—dressed to kill, head up, like armor. But there was no real glamour in buying pregnancy tests from some random pharmacy in the middle of the night. No way to mask the deep, growing hysteria in your bones.

The girl behind the register clocked you the second you stepped up to the counter, her eyes dragging over your like she couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing. You could almost hear her thoughts: What the hell is someone like you doing here?

You didn’t even look at her. You just wanted to pay and leave without a scene. But of course, people always found a way to make things worse. She hesitated before scanning the tests, looking like she might say something. For her own good, you prayed she didn’t.

You threw the money on the counter before she could open her mouth, two crisp hundreds on top of the total. The cash hit the counter with a sharp thwap and you gave her the bitchiest look you could muster. “Take it. Keep your fucking mouth shut.”

She swallowed hard, her hand trembling as she slid the bills into the register. You didn’t care that she was young or nervous. You weren’t here to make friends. You weren’t here for anyone’s sympathy. The extra money would make sure she didn’t talk, that was all that mattered.

You walked out, your heels clicking against the linoleum, head high, even though every nerve in your body screamed for you to disappear. You slid into your truck, slamming the door shut, the silence finally hitting you. For all the designer clothes, the makeup, the money—none of it meant shit right now. You felt so small. So scared. Terribly lonely.

You sat there for what felt like forever, staring at the stupid bag in the passenger seat like it had the power to ruin your whole life—which, to be fair, it kind of did. You didn’t know what the fuck you were going to do. Not about any of it.

Your foot tapped nervously against the floor mat, the sound too loud in the quiet car. The bag crinkled as you glanced at it again, your stomach twisting all over again. A bunch of pregnancy tests. How had it come to this?

Rafe. You squeezed your eyes shut, willing yourself not to think about him, not to picture his face when he found out. If he found out. Shit, what the hell was he going to do? He was with Sofia now, right? So was this going to ruin his life too? Did he even deserve to know?

It was probably nothing, you told yourself. Maybe the separation anxiety had gotten to you. Maybe your body was just fucked up from all the stress. Maybe your period was just late because you’d been so all over the place lately. There could be a million reasons. You didn’t even want to think about what would happen if it wasn’t nothing.

You didn’t want to cry anymore. Not after all of this. Not over Rafe. Not over your life turning into some fucking soap opera you didn’t even want to be a part of.

The second you were inside your house, the walls closed in around you. Your perfectly decorated place—the one you’d spent so much time making into a refuge, an escape—it didn’t feel like that anymore. Every designer pillow, every carefully chosen piece of art, mocking you.

Your phone buzzed in your bag, you reached for it. Of course, it was Rafe.

“I don’t know what the fuck that was but save the fucking dramatics, okay?”

The nerve. The fucking nerve of him to act like he was the center of your universe, acting like you were some inconvenience. Months of silence and this was the first thing he decided to text you? Knowing how much you despised when people called you a drama queen? Fucking piece of shit.

Your fingers hovered over the screen, a thousand different responses running through your mind. You wanted to tell him to shove something up his ass. But you did the only thing that felt right in that moment.

You blocked him. You stared at your phone, half expecting it to buzz again, half dreading that it wouldn’t. It was done. You cut him off, at least in that tiny, virtual way. You sat there for a minute, gripping the phone, trying to remember how to breathe.

This was supposed to feel empowering, right? You told yourself it would. That cutting him out would help you get back some control. But your mind wouldn’t settle. Those damn pregnancy tests were sitting in the bag next to you.

You were tired.

Exhausted in a way that had nothing to do with how late it was or how emotionally spent you were. You kicked off your heels, letting them clatter against the hardwood floor as you sank into the plush couch. Your house felt cold and unwelcoming tonight. Like a showroom. No comfort to be found. Not here, not in the muted tones of beige and white. Not in the sleek lines of furniture that were supposed to exude elegance and sophistication.

Maybe tomorrow you’d feel differently.

Maybe you’d wake up with a clear head, ready to take the stupid tests. Maybe you’d be strong again like you’d been so many times before.

Tonight, you were just tired. You leaned back against the cushions, closing your eyes for a moment, willing the noise in your head to quiet down. Sleep. That’s what you needed. Just a few hours to clear your mind, and in the morning, you’d deal with everything.

All of this would go away.

TAGLIST: @maybankslover @october-baby25 @haruvalentine4321 @hopelesslydevoted2paige @rafebb @rafesbbyy @whytheylosttheirminds @astarlights @bruher @nosebeers @carrerascameron @serrendiipty @sunny1616 @yootvi @ditzyzombiesblog @psychocitylights @maibelitaaura @kiiyomei @stoned-writer @justafangirls-blog @starkeygirlposts @enjoymyloves @ijustwanttoreadlols @icaqttt

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron series #rafe cameron (by @itneverendshere)

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a-substantial-trash-pile · 1 day ago

Text

Catalyst

so in my au which i'm totally not using to cope or anything haha, after realizing that curly isn't going to do anything about jimmy, anya confides in swansea and he goes Protective Dad Mode. i'm calling this the "Responsibility AU." ramble below cut.

swansea doesn't immediately go after jimmy with an axe or anything because 1. they're not in a high stress life/death crash situation and 2. anya specifically requests that swansea not enact violence upon jimmy after swansea says, and i quote, "i'm gonna beat his ass." anya just wants to feel safer and more supported on the ship—she doesn't want swansea to get in trouble even if jimmy does deserve to get destroyed by 10000 punches.

what swansea can do is watch out for anya and make sure she's never alone in a room with jimmy. if there's a situation where she has to be alone with jimmy (like the psych evals), she and swansea have a system where she can signal for help. with anya's permission, swansea asks daisuke to help look out for her too (without telling him the details as to why since that's anya's right to share or not). daisuke has already picked up at this point that something is wrong based on how much more hostile swansea's become towards jimmy, and he trusts his boss, so he agrees without much question.

anya, feeling less alone now that she has people watching her back, gains more confidence to stand up to jimmy. which makes him angry because his unwanted advances are being denied and swansea and daisuke keep getting in his way. he just can't understand why he's being treated as the bad guy here (this is because he is a delusional asshole).

meanwhile curly is slowly realizing that he needs to actually do something here because the tension in the crew is palpable and increasing by the day. also swansea is being mighty passive aggressive to him and talking about "responsibility" a lot. curly keeps trying to talk to jimmy about it but the guy just keeps downplaying it and blaming everyone else but himself. and curly is realizing that his friend isn't who he thought he was.

it all comes to a head one day when an angry jimmy tries to confront anya alone and swansea steps in. things get heated, people start yelling. curly show up to see swansea and jimmy on the verge of fighting with anya and daisuke trying to hold them back respectively. curly breaks up the fight. jimmy storms off. curly follows him and finds him trying to get the gun from the case in the cockpit. curly asks him why he's doing this and jimmy claims it's for his own protection because he feels "threatened by swansea." he tells curly to give him the code. curly, the sheer wrongness of the whole situation hitting him, finally calls jimmy out on all his bs. jimmy just laughs in his face, still believing that he's not in the wrong and curly doesn't have the guts to do anything anyway. so the captain fires him on the spot. jimmy snaps and he and curly get into a fight in the cockpit. jimmy is trying to crash the ship and curly is trying to stop him. then the rest of the crew show up and anya knocks jimmy's ass out with the gun case. swansea is so proud.

they throw jimmy in the cryopod so they don't have to worry about him pulling anything else and he can be properly dealt with once the stupid delivery is over. everyone's like, "wow that was a close one—could you imagine how messed up it would be if we ended up in a crash because of jimmy? thank god that didn't happen." curly makes swansea the copilot until they can get a replacement and swansea's like, "goddammit as if i don't already do enough shit around here."

anyway my whole goal here was to get rid of jimmy early so i can have beautiful Found Family shenanigans in space with the rest of the crew. apologies and healing and happy times will happen. no the whole getting laid off thing doesn't happen. no i don't have an explanation for it. sorry for the essay.

#mouthwashing #mouthwashing swansea #mouthwashing anya #mouthwashing spoilers #responsibility au

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spanishskulduggery · 3 days ago

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What word or words do you wish we had in English? For example, I love estadounidense. It’s so much easier than saying “person from the United States”.

estadounidense is such a good example lol - the closest thing we have in English, that is totally informal, is calling it "USian"

I think there are a handful of words that I've come across where you can't totally translate because it's like... a visceral feeling you only understand if you know the culture?

mala leche is a big one; I can never quite describe it to people, but when you get more used to the culture you see mala leche and part of you makes that noise like you just touched something really hot and immediately withdraw, that's the gut reaction to how bad the vibe is haha

Also the verb madrugar is hard to get quite right; because it means "to get up early", but this can also be something more like "to get up so early the sun hasn't come out yet"

I think estrenar is another one that's a little more difficult to translate or I wish there were a better way to explain it; the closest you can get is "to debut" (and same idea for acting, "to debut" or "to star"), or "to show off (for the first time)" like with clothes

...And this one is probably more relevant for Spanish-speaking countries or countries with stricter naming policies, but tocayo/a I wish had a better translation in English

The equivalent is "namesake", but tocayo/a can mean "someone with the same name as you" - so it could be "someone you were named after" like a relative or a saint, like you had a grandparent named Robert and now you're Robbie or Roberta, that's a tocayo/a even if it's a genderswapped version (which they also did for saints like John turns to Juan or Juana) - but it could also just be like "yeah there are three girls named Ashley in my class" or "my name is Maria and so is hers" etc. and that's also tocayo/a

There are also some words that just don't have the same meaning anymore, ones that make sense in some languages but not English

The idea of tutear "to speak informally with someone" literally "to tú someone" is hard to express in English where in general we address everyone the same, but in older English it was "to thou" someone because we used to have more emphasis on classes and social standing - something that makes total sense in many Asian countries, or countries that use a more formal or informal register, but something very much lost in some English-speaking countries

#asks #spanish #langblr #learning spanish #vocabulario #and somehow sobremesa always get mentioned in the 'untranslatable' categories so I tried not to mention it

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planetpedri · 1 day ago

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Can you write one about Pedri or Gavi or Fermin dating a singer and going to their concert just to find out that there’s a surprise song dedicated for them? <3 thank you!

We’ll be stars — Pedri , Gavi , Fermín.

Pairing: Pedri x Reader , Gavi x Reader , Fermín x Reader

Summary: In which , they go to one of your concerts and you surprise with a dedicating a song.

Disclaimer/s: This will be 3 separate parts but I couldn’t figure out whom to choose so i just did three different blurbs for it. I will put who the song is actually by next to their names so you can listen to them as well!

A/N: Hai hello hi thank you to enya bae who helped me with this!!

Pedri Gonzalez . . . Apple Pie — Lizzy McAlpine !

Watching from the VIP booth with your family and a fee friends, Pedri had a wide smile on his face, so wide that it was hurting. He loved to see you preform in front of crowds, it brought out a different side of you he rarely got to see.

You had just announced you were singing a surprise unreleased song, so Pedri had whipped out his phone ready to capture the moment.

“I wrote this while on vacation with my boyfriend, so this one is dedicated especially to him.” Your eyes scanned the crowd till you found the VIP box, landing on him with a smile.

When you began to sing though, his phone slowly slid back into his pocket. It was certainly a surprise song. The lyrics had his heart swelling three sizes, with every word he had clung onto, he felt his love for you grow. He was suddenly very ready for the concert to end, he was desperate to give you a hug, to kiss you, to hold you close, and most importantly, tell you just how much he loved you.

But me, oh, my / I found you under an April sky / And you feel like / City life, apple pie baked just right /Home is wherever you are tonight.

Pablo Gavi . . . Call me — Kali Uchis !

When you announced you were playing an unreleased song, he wasn’t expecting this. The lyrics held weight and meaning behind them, something you knew only he would understand. You two had gotten into a massive argument less than a week ago over him not opening up enough, and it wasn’t until now that he fully understood the depth of how you felt.

You're an ocean, got me flooded / Now my insides floating, got me gutted / No one do it quite like you / Got me sitting 'round writing haikus / If you feel lonely or abused / You know that all you gotta do is / Call me, you can call me / Boy, just call me.

Gavi’s jaw clenched, not out of annoyance, but because he was proud of you. You had a way of explaining the hard things through song, and he was going to make it his top priority to apologize after the concert. He promised himself in that moment, that he would do his best to open himself up to you.

Fermín Lopez . . . Close to you — Gracie Abrams !

You mic pressed to your lips as you spoke, explaining the meaning behind the song you were about to sing. “I wrote this before me and my boyfriend—who is here somewhere in the crowd, actually—had started dating. I swore it was one sided.. until it wasn’t.” And with that, the instrumental beginning began to play.

Fermín watched from his seat, an aching smile on his lips. He watched you with stars in his eyes as you preformed, his heart swarming with adoration and love.

I was so cool, but then, all of a sudden / You saw me look at you / I burn for you / And you don't even know my name / If you asked me to / I'd give up everything / to be close to you.

It wasn’t until much later on in the night, when the two of you were nestled in bed, that your friend had sent you a video. They’d caught Fermín on video reacting to your song, his mouth slightly parted as he watched you in awe. His eyes caught onto the girl who was recording and he covered his face when he realized it wasn’t just her, it was dozens upon dozens of people staring at him, smiling and giggling at his reaction.

Turning over in the bed, you show your boyfriend the video. His face flushes in embarrassment, stumbling over his words. You chuckle, shutting him up with a deep kiss. “You’re adorable.” You mumble against his lips.

likes , comments , and reblog’s are all appreciated. lmk if you’d like to be tagged in any future posts.

DTS , @halfwayhearted @spidybaby @gadriezmannsgirl @unx100to !

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yeyinde · 1 day ago

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i can't believe we're so close to the end!!! this whole series has me in such a chokehold that it's a little hard to imagine not waiting for the next chapter to drop.

but this one in particular has me spiralling because it has everything - a little bit of Price's background/lore, some tenderness, overprotective bear John, burying a body (my favourite couple-y activity), flighty mc finally being caught by Price, delicious smut, and i'm also currently in the process of writing a cease and desist for THAT scene because wow :)))))))))))))) WOW!!!

seriously!!!!

He pulls back to stare at your dripping hole. “Missed me, my love?” You’d answer if you could form words, but then you realize who he’s talking to and your mind goes blank.

i would have gotten this out much sooner but i read this and had to go for a jog. i need to burn off some excess energy before i continued because this was insanely hot!!! there's something about Price in particular doing this that's somehow crazier than Ghost, Soap, or Gaz. i don't know what it is. it just flustered me beyond belief.

the whole scene was so good, though. the descriptions of John we're incredible. his hairy knuckles, him looking bigger in the low light, how the fire painted his face - just beyond exquisite.

He must feel the way that thought heats you up because he rasps, “Need a lil somethin’, love?”

i love how you can take this idea of him in my head and put it on paper because i love how he's so attuned to the mc - as if her pleasure, her needs, were tethered to his own. i love little pieces like this scattered throughout - especially when it's brief hints of his overprotectiveness:

John’s nostrils flare. The fire reflects off his eyes in such a way that, for a moment, it almost looks like it’s coming from within him. “I’d kill him again if I could.”

this is such a gorgeous description, and i love how his anger is directed outward. flaring quick and blistering, and then simmering down into a quick, decisive heat. there's nothing he wouldn't do for her. no lengths he wouldn't go.

and the way you brought it all together - like this was a waiting game of him slowly pushing her in the right direction until she caught up - was brilliantly done. the gut punch of her admitting her feelings, him pulling more and more out of her, and then the slow, raw declaration at the end with him saying:

“You’re my wife. End of story. The rest ain’t anyone’s business but ours.”

it's so perfect. genuinely in awe over you right now!!!!! this was amazing. i need to finish the bag of all dressed i bought at the store, and read this five more times.

take me home, country road

[ao3]

You have nothing on your person apart from a hastily packed suitcase and the dress you came into town wearing, on the run from trouble back home. Too bad John's missing a bride that matches your description. Or: the 1800s (mistaken) mail order bride au (chapter 19)

masterlist

A blood-orange sun hangs low in the sky.

You might think it ominous on any other day, but not this one. What more adversity could stand in your way?

Instead of sharing a saddle with John, you ride the same horse that Graves rode out of town. Days spent on horseback have finally caught up to you, pain radiating up and down your legs, a soreness embedded deep in your inner thighs, the skin positively chafed from the constant friction. At least you no longer have the handcuffs digging painfully into your wrists, the metal cuffs long since unlocked using the key in Graves’ pocket and discarded, now lost some acres back for the coyotes and the hares to prod at and sniff.

You drift in and out of conscious awareness, coming back into your right mind every mile or so, losing track of time along the way. Sometimes you blink and trees disappear out of sight, already ten miles back. Scouring the landscape for something familiar only to come up empty.

Recent events lour over your conscience. It’s difficult not to let it get to you. So much has happened in such quick succession that part of you still thinks you’re dreaming in the abandoned shack with Graves sleeping just a few feet away.

A distinct sound scrapes against the inner recesses of your mind and eardrum. If you were to look behind you, you’d find the source of it wrapped in a shroud and dragged behind John’s horse. Drying blood stains the fabric. The head, obscured under the fabric, jostles from side to side as it passes over rocks and undergrowth.

It’s beyond you now though, the future shuttling forward at an unfathomable speed and taking you with it, willing or not. The world hurrying on to repeat its past mistakes.

So you don’t look behind you.

“Won’t be much longer,” your husband murmurs from beside you, speaking just loud enough for you to hear him over the influx of thoughts in your head, which rapidly empty out at the sound of his voice.

“We can stop for a break after?” you ask, turning your head enough for your eyes to land on the hard, bristled line of his jaw. He nods.

“Just gotta get this part out of the way.”

He says it so casually, like a bit of unpleasantness that has to be dealt with; no way around it. Unfortunately, a body isn’t something that can be just swept under the rug. No matter how much your muscles beg for a moment’s reprieve, you won’t get it until all the loose ends are tied up.

“How do you know the land around here so well?” you ask as John leads the two of you deeper into the plains.

“The boys and I have been out here before. Grew up in this county anyway; been wanderin’ these parts since I was born.”

You can’t imagine John as a young boy, uncertain of his place in the world. He seems like someone who emerged from the womb ready-made, already able to skin a deer and build a bushcraft shelter by hand. But he must have been young at one point.

Finally, he comes upon a suitable place to bury the body.

Deep in the wilderness, he digs a shallow grave with the short shovel strapped to his horse, sweating up a storm before the hole is big enough to bury the body. You dismount your horse and wander off while John handles the burial.

This is the part where you have to turn away and pretend it isn’t happening. You stave off the urge to plug your ears and close your eyes. Dogear any page in your life except this one. This is the only memory that you want to fade into obscurity, pretend that it never happened, that this was some bad dream that you only half-remember twenty years from now.

You glance back only once to find John breathing heavily at the edge of the hole, having just hauled himself out. Sweat slicks his brow and drips down the side of his face near his temple, a dark flush spreading over his cheeks from exertion. Even his shirt is damp with sweat under the pits and around the collar.

You force yourself to look away. Now is not the time for your libido to trouble you.

Graves’ body lands with a dull thump when John rolls it into the makeshift grave. You bite your lip and let your eyelids slide shut. Then he starts the process of covering the body, shoveling the dirt back into the hole. It takes a while. An offer to help hovers on the tip of your tongue, but you can’t quite make yourself say the words.

A half hour later, it no longer matters, the hole covered until the only thing demarcating the grave is the layer of upturned soil, slightly darker than the dirt in the surrounding area.

“That’s it,” John announces, making his way back to you with the shovel slung over his shoulder. You can smell the ripe scent of sweat wafting off him even from a foot away. “Let’s head out; we’ll wanna make camp before it gets dark.”

You don’t answer. Not verbally anyway. The guilt almost makes it hard to breathe. In all your stupidity and poor decision-making, you’ve inadvertently made John an accomplice in your crimes; forced him, in fact, to commit one as heinous as the one that had started this whole debacle.

You travel the next mile in relative silence, scouring the landscape for a neat patch of land to set up camp. The sun plummets towards the ground at a faster and faster pace until it’s tugged below the horizon, vanishing with a green flash. Then it’s too dangerous to keep going, the way back far too dark to keep traveling down.

John builds a small fire after tying up the horses for the night. The temperature drops exponentially as the sky darkens, the cold sinking low to the ground. You help with gathering the kindling, mostly twigs and clumps of dry grass, then take the packs off both horses to use as makeshift seats by the fire, unrolling the sleeping bags as well.

It comes as a relief to finally sit down after the fire is struck. Rest is a double edged sword though; the longer you sit with Graves’ old pack propping you up, the more the pain has time to sink its claws in deep.

In the hours since he shot Graves, neither of you have spoken more than a few words to each other. You certainly haven’t brought it up. The memory of Graves revealing the truth of what you’d done back east to John looms over you. It’s inevitable that you’ll talk about it eventually though. It’s heavy in the atmosphere, almost oppressive; the weight of everything said and unsaid. You can’t take back what Graves revealed to John. At some point you’ll have to face it.

At what point will you have to beg for forgiveness? It sits on the tip of your tongue.

The small fire crackles in front of you. Red tongues of flames lick at the darkness, the light extending out in a circle around the two of you. You’re grateful for the warmth though, particularly after spending the previous night in the cold.

“Nothing to eat, m’afraid,” he says apologetically, brow creasing. “I didn’t exactly pack before coming after you.”

You shake your head. “That’s fine. I’m not hungry anyway.”

In a few more hours, you might work up an appetite again, but for now, you couldn’t be further from it. All you want to do is lie down on your bed back home and sleep through to the next day.

“Yeah,” John sighs. “Me neither.”

He picks up your hand and holds it in his for a time. It’s strange how such a small gesture has become such an immense comfort for you. You wish you could thread your fingers through his and bring his hand up to your lips to kiss all over, but you’re too tired for a gesture of that magnitude.

When he lets go of your hand, it’s only to transfer it to your face. His thumb runs over your split lip, pulling away when you wince. “Looks like it’s healing on its own.”

“That’s good,” you mumble. “…It hurt a lot more yesterday.”

John’s nostrils flare. The fire reflects off his eyes in such a way that, for a moment, it almost looks like it’s coming from within him. “I’d kill him again if I could.”

Your stomach clenches at the ferocity behind his words.

“You—you shouldn’t have done it in the first place,” you croak. “Not when he was—” right, you don’t say. Right to haul you out of town by your hair and drag you back to the scene of the crime, back to pay for what you’d done.

“Now I ain’t gonna hear you go spoutin’ that horseshit,” he growls, clasping you by the back of your neck and tugging you to his side. It’s so sudden that your butt skids across the ground, raking up a small mound of dirt with the weight of your body.

You look away, unable to meet his eyes even as he pulls you forward until you’re nearly nose to nose. “It’s not—”

“Yes, it is, darlin’. That shit weren’t none of your fault. You ain’t done a thing wrong by keeping yourself safe.”

It’s almost hard to hear. It’s taken you months to scrub the dirt from your soul, which until recently was raw to the touch and pained you to even think back on. And the hopelessness. And the longing, the irreversibility of it; irreversible in the way that you couldn’t turn your pain inside out. You could never go back to the way things were because the only way out was to keep on trudging forward.

Like rain in a drought, you’ve been missing someone’s mercy. You’ve been waiting for someone to come and forgive you for your sins; someone to absolve you of them.

You lean forward, burying your face in his neck. Not making much of a sound except for a harsh exhale, your throat quavering with something unsaid.

Then you grip him by the back of his shirt and pull him to the ground with you.

Out in the open like this, John doesn’t dare remove your clothes, but he does reach beneath your dress to pull off your underclothes. He’s silent through it all, eyes fixed on yours. Never wavering or dropping your gaze. It’s intoxicating to be stared at with such a fierce intensity. Vaguely overwhelming, the sensation creeping up your chest and lodging in your throat.

The light of the fire he built for the two of you flickers across his skin, illuminating his face in shades of orange and gold.

He holds your gaze when he rucks the skirt of your dress up and crawls down the length of your body until his mouth is level with your center, slick already dripping from your sex. Your breathing goes haggard, anticipating his mouth before it’s suddenly there between your thighs, planting a gentle kiss on your inner thigh before dragging his lips over your sensitive skin until they brush your clit. Your mouth opens to a soundless gasp. Electrical impulses travel up your spine, your arching back following their trajectory.

He pulls back to stare at your dripping hole. “Missed me, my love?”

You’d answer if you could form words, but then you realize who he’s talking to and your mind goes blank.

When he runs his tongue up the seam of your pussy, you jolt, legs slung over his shoulders kicking at the air. He eats you out with gusto, with reverence, sighing into your pussy that it’s been too long, that he’d worried himself nearly half to death over you.

Rough hands hold you by your waist and pull you down onto his face. Long, crude licks of his tongue, rubbing the flat of it over your clit until you’re a roiling, twisting hotbed of pent up arousal.

The urge to suppress your noises is almost overwhelming. When you twist your head from side to side, there’s nothing but miles of land; trees and shrubbery and a deep, impenetrable darkness. Not another person around for miles. It makes you shiver when you stare out into it.

“I can’t, I can’t, I can’t—” you gasp, chest getting tighter and tighter until you expect it to burst but it doesn’t. It stays all pent up, all itchy and scratchy and you can feel the sweat slicking the small of your back and the blood furiously rushing to your cheeks, heating you up from the inside out. Sweat-laden and flustered.

Your toes curl in your boots, throat tightening up the closer it gets. All it takes to push you over the edge is John cupping his hands under your butt to tilt your hips up, licking you from hole to hole. The impertinence and thrill sends a rush through your body, the coil in your belly twisting and releasing, core pulsing around nothing. Your body gives a violent jolt when he gives your clit one last wet, suckling kiss.

“Are you comfortable like this, darlin’, or should I wait until we’re home?” John asks when he positions himself over you again, beard still wet with your desire and a big hand cupping the front of his trousers. You stare down at the hair dusting his knuckles and the bulge straining against his pants.

The shadows make it seem even larger than usual. Your throat goes dry the longer you stare down at where he fists his length through his trousers.

“Darlin’?” he repeats, drawing your attention back up to his face.

“Oh?” you ask, cheeks heating. “I’m, um…I’m quite comfortable.”

It seems absurd to have such a conversation when your husband’s hand is reaching into his trousers to pull out his cock and fuck you with it, but the nervous tickle in your belly is far from unpleasant.

He’s so careful with you, cognizant that your muscles are already sore and aching from days of being on the road and the abuse Graves put you through. Gentle hands maneuver your legs around his hips and move your hair from your face. Again your belly flips.

Your grunt is involuntary when he first pushes in, walls stretching around the head of his cock. It hasn’t been long enough for the blunt intrusion to be painful, but it’s overwhelming all the same. You wince and grimace through it all.

“Easy does it. You’re alright,” John shushes when you whimper, rough hand cupping your cheek. It sends a thrill down your spine, but doesn’t lessen the intensity.

He stays like that for a time, hovering over you and stroking a thumb over your cheekbone until you relax around his girth, gradually finding your breath again. In and out; one after the other. When he pulls his hand away, it’s to plant his forearms on the ground beside your head and grind his hips forward, taking your breath away.

“Oh Lord,” you wheeze, then brace your hands around his neck.

“You’re doing great, darlin’. Just hold on; I’ve got ya.”

It’s nothing like the times before; your arms link around his neck and your breath goes shallow, hitching with every measured thrust. It’s too much and not enough. You feel windswept and battered, bruises smarting now that you’ve had time to feel them, but still you need more from him.

He works himself into the wet flex of your pussy with slow, heavy thrusts. Taking his time. Not rushing it just yet because though the threat of you being taken from him still looms over his head, he’s sated his bloodlust. His reassurance now comes in the form of your legs spread to receive him and the fat head of his cock fitting snugly in you.

The heels of your boots press firm against the flesh above his buttocks. Taking him this way with your clothes still on feels debaucherous, filthier than usual; like you were so desperate to have your husband inside you, that you couldn’t even be bothered to remove your garments.

He must feel the way that thought heats you up because he rasps, “Need a lil somethin’, love?”

Before you can even answer, he’s reached a hand down and tucked it between your thighs to strum the tight bundle of nerves at the apex of your sex.

“John—”

Your fingernails must dig into the back of his neck because he grunts. Serves him right, you think, digging your nails in all the harder when grinds a knuckle against your clit and you briefly see stars.

You’re splintering down to the root, coming apart in his hands like clay; when he says your name, the darkness fades and for a moment, you’re in the light, a shaft of it haloing your face. Chasing it no matter how fast it runs. A hare in a snare, a shadow captured in the palm of your hand.

It comes fluttering down from somewhere beyond sight. Gasped out in another voice, a truer voice. From the depths of you, true as stone and air.

“I love you.”

Give it time and it’ll come naturally. Now, it comes as a gut punch. Even John stills over you when he hears the words, and you can feel the shudder that runs through him under your fingertips. There’s no time to sit and talk about it though, not with the frenzy that comes over him, blue eyes glazed over by a manic glint.

He braces one hand on the top of your head and surges forward, so rough with you that your teeth clack together, eyes rolling back in your head.

“Say it again,” John growls, leaning down until his mouth is right next to your ear.

“I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you—”

Then it hits you. A wall of heat. Your belly rolling and cheeks burning, walls squeezing around John’s cock, tighter with every thrust. You yelp when he lifts himself off you to yank the skirt of your dress up higher and presses his hands to your inner thighs, spreading your legs wider for him. Bullies his cock into your channel even as you try to squeeze him out, pounding into you until the lurid torrent of words spilling out of his mouth go slurred and his release floods into you, his hips slapping against yours until he’s emptied the last of his spend into your womb.

It’s a while before either of you can move after that. Your energy melts into the ground like rainwater, purifying the earth. Maybe life is already germinating beneath you, grass seedlings about to burst from the dirt, flower buds curled up in tight coils until they’re ready to bloom.

Your hands shake when you lift one up to wipe the sweat from your face.

When he finally pulls out of you, the feeling of his come leaking down your inner thighs makes you fussy. You lift your thighs just enough to let him pull your drawers back up before lying back down, no energy left in you to do more than that. You only scrunch your nose a little at the feeling of your combined juices already wetting the gusset.

Time seems to come apart and then piece back together. You roll over onto your side and nestle up against John’s chest, staring up at him wordlessly. His eyes stay shut for some time until he feels your stare on him and they peel open, the color of his irises barely discernible in the flickering light.

“Somethin’ on your mind?” he asks in a tone so devoid of accusation or condemnation that you’re almost thrown by it. He says it like it’s just another day, like something horrible and monumental didn’t just happen.

It takes you a while to find the words. Even when you do, they come out jumbled and disjointed. “How long have you…—when did you find out?”

“‘Bout what happened back East?” he clarifies, blunt as usual.

The question makes you swallow impulsively, anxiety secreting from you again. “Yes.”

John looks up into the dark sky, quiet for a spell. “Not until recently. The arrest warrant drifted across my desk probably around the time Graves first stopped by. Wasn’t hard to put two and two together after that—you showing up in a tizzy around the same time as the warrant was issued. General description matched as well.”

You feel a bit foolish in retrospect, certain that you were getting away with it all this time.

“You know my name.”

“I do.”

“My real name.”

“In a manner of speaking. Got yourself a new last name since then though, didn’t you?”

Your lips pull up at the corners involuntarily. “Yes. I guess so.”

You can almost hear it now. The penultimate note of the overture writhing against convalescence like you might stay this way for a second longer. But it isn’t right to keep feeling the same old pain. At some point, it has to heal.

“Hey,” John says, giving your shoulder a little shake to draw your attention back to him. The look in his eyes is serious. “This is as far as the story goes, alright?”

You stare up at him silently until you nod against his chest.

“You’re my wife. End of story. The rest ain’t anyone’s business but ours.”

Off in the distance, an owl hoots, and its call hits your ear as a distant evocation to sleep. You press one last kiss to his chest before rolling off him, letting him put the fire out before the two of you turn in for the night, and then drawing a blanket over the both of you.

And then, you go to sleep.

#the notif came at such a perfect moment because i was reading this western (not good) and immediately thought #country roads is just so much better #and godddd how you delivered

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divineidolatry · 1 day ago

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As I write my (first) fic for Taggie and Rupert I’m very tempted to also make an accompanying post of quotes I think go with them cause man I keep finding or remembering ones that suit them and then getting gut punched with tears and longing and it’s not fair to go it my own with those feelings.

But I guess for now I’m just going to ramble about them with no real direction because I need to and there’s no one to listen to me right now.

There’s such a divine yearning between the two of them, an undeniable need to be loved. Taggie knows she needs to be loved. Rupert isn’t sure he can even touch that word, let alone deserve it. But both of them know they are lonely beings, with a fear of never truly being seen or cared for in all their different facets and nuances of self.

I have no choice but to fall for them and spend all my waking free moments ruminating on every little touch, glance, and word they share.

I think a lot about this analysis of a different piece of media that picked apart the way that people who put animals first have a lack of ability or comfort with trusting people. They’re people who have been hurt or find themselves surrounded by a superficial crowd. But animals aren’t like that. They’re not faking who they are or looking for clout. They’re not dishonest or jaded. That’s why Rupert gets on with them, that’s why he fills his loneliness with them.

But then comes Taggie, someone who is honest and gracious to a fault, never trying to gain something for it but because it’s what she knows. It’s what she’s good at, all she thinks she’s good at even though that’s not true. She isn’t pretending to be someone other than herself. Not when she chastises him at his tennis court or looks at him with longing but still puts him in his place for crossing a line with her. Not when she allows him to look at her pain and confesses her fears to him with open vulnerability. She would never hurt him, not intentionally, and he finds himself wanting to mirror that for her. To be the person she can turn to and lean on.

Which scares him. But he doesn’t run from it. He tries, because she believes he could. He’s not faultless, he still errs… but he always tries to correct it and be what he feels is enough for her. And she looks after him, loyal and true.

It’s inevitable, really. It’s not fate, it’s a choice, but it is an inevitability. They can never leave each others orbits and they don’t want to. They’re each others answer to the question they’ve been asking of life.

Will I be alone forever?

No.

Will anyone ever love me?

Yes.

From one of them to another, repeated like a ritual, they will love each other. They will not have to suffer their lives alone.

Orpheus could never have stopped himself from looking, as neither of them can, but they don’t have to lose each other like Eurydice falling back to Hades as long as they look together.

Also please, I am desperately seeking more Taggie & Rupert mutuals (bear in mind this is a sideblog though so the follow would come from my main.)

#taggie x rupert #rupert x taggie #taggie o'hara #rupert campbell black #rivals 2024 #rivals #— yves writes.

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writing-until-i-drop · 1 day ago

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Wildflowers For A Hangman Ch. 20

Summary:

Daisy, a career novelist, moves in with her college best friend Phoenix who has been permanently assigned to Top Gun with Dagger Squad. She finds herself instantly connected with a cocky pilot who's soft only for her and Jake can't help but want to know everything about her. When the past comes knocking at both of their doors, will they stand together or fall apart?

Or: The Dagger Squad can't cook and Jake falls in love with a woman who makes a mean lasagna while they work their personal trauma.

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x writer!femOC | 18+ (eventually) minors dni. Fluff, smut (eventual), idiots in love, past trauma.

A/N: Jake comes clean and Daisy has to talk to Penny

AO3 Link

Previous Chapter

I managed to make it until we were back at my apartment before I broke. Tasha was spending the night at Javy’s place, which meant it was just the two of us and after a few hours of thinking up the worst possible scenarios for what Jake had to tell me, I was ready to cry, scream, or throw up. Or do all three at once, it was a toss up really.

“I’m going to sit down on the couch and you’re going to tell me what’s going on,” I said, putting my hands on Jake’s shoulder to stop him from kissing me when we walked in the door. “Because I know there’s something you’re not telling me.” Jake sighed, running a hand over his face.

“We’re not breaking up, let’s start with that,” Jake’s voice was tired but serious, his words striking out one of my fears. I nodded, running my hands up and down my pajama pants, trying to ease my anxiety with the familiar feeling of the fuzzy fabric. “Rooster and I might be deployed soon.” The news hit me like a blow to the gut, deployed? What happened over Thanksgiving had been a mission, just a few days apart and that had been hell.

“How long?” I heard myself ask, knees folding into my chest. Jake sat beside me, wrapping me in his arms, chin resting on top of my head.

“I don’t know, Wildflower.”

“Where?”

“I don’t know and I couldn’t tell you if I did, it would be classified,” Jake kissed my hair. “I don’t have any details, I don’t even know if it’s happening. It’s all just whispers behind closed doors and rumors at this point, which is why I didn’t want to say anything.”

“I love you,” It’s all I could think to say. Jake’s thumb brushed over my cheeks and that’s when I realized I was crying, “I love you so much.”

“I know, baby, I love you too,” Jake held me tight. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, I didn’t want to say anything until I knew for sure.”

“Tell me next time, okay?”

“I promise, Wildflower. I’m sorry I worried you,” Jake kissed the top of my head, rubbing circles into my back. “I love you so much.”

My first thought was to run, to get away but the second that crossed my mind, the idea of being without Jake hit me like a truck. I didn’t want to be without him, I couldn’t imagine not having Jake in my life. He had managed to intertwined every part of my life with his, from my writing to his family, we were bound together. Running away now would be running away forever. Right?

“Why don’t we call Penny in the morning?” Jake kissed my hair again, drawing me out of my thoughts. “Maybe we can call mama and pops too.”

“I’d like that,” I nuzzled into his neck, “How long are deployments usually?” Jake sighed, bringing me onto his lap.

“It depends, there’s short deployments of just a few months and then there’s deployments that can last over a year.” A year? My grip on Jake’s waist tightened, “It’s probably not going to be that long, baby but if it is, we’ll figure it out.” After a few minutes of silence that felt like hours, Jake whispered, “You’ll be waiting here when I get back?”

“Always,” I answered without hesitation. I took Jake’s face in my hands, staring him down even though I still wanted to puke a little bit. Jake’s eyes were intense, his brow creased in worry. “I’m not going anywhere and no matter where you go, you’re coming back home to me. Deal?”

“Deal.” Jake closed the distance between our lips, kissing me soft and sweet. There was no rushing, it was as if we had all the time in the world, and if we did have all that time, what was a few months apart? He pulled my legs fully around him and stood, never breaking the kiss as he carried me to the bedroom.

When he laid me back on the bed and stripped me bare, Jake took his time. He covered my body in kisses, worshiping every inch like he was committing it to memory, and when we finished, he pulled me into his chest and held me tight all through the night.

The next morning I called Penny, who evidently had been waiting to hear from me. I tried to ignore the fact that everyone around me probably already knew about the deployment, especially the fact that Tasha hadn’t said anything. Penny invited me over and Jake dropped me off,

“Call me when you’re ready,” He whispered, kissing my forehead. “I love you.”

“I love you too, cowboy.”

Penny greeted me with a hug and a mug of peppermint tea, she looked cozy in her navy pajama set and robe, pulling me into her living room.

“How are you holding up, kiddo?” Penny passed me a cream blanket that was soft.

“First thing I wanted to do was run,” Penny hummed, rubbing my knee. “Now I just feel a little numb.”

“I thought having grown up with my father’s deployments would have made things easier the first time my ex-husband deployed but it didn’t.” She sipped her tea, staring ahead where a picture of her and Amelia hung on the wall. “I spent the first month crying in bed, almost got fired from my job. Then one of the other wives in his unit, an older woman named Vera, sat me down for a talk.”

Penny looked the picture of calm as she spoke and I envied her for it. What I didn’t envy was how many years, deployments, and undoubted heartache that it took to cultivate that calm.

“She first told me that I looked like crap,” I chuckled along with Penny. “Then she told me I was going to join her walking group. Most of the wives in the unit met up every morning and walked a mile around base. If we had news, we shared it, some women talked about how their kids were handling things, we organized what we were sending in care packages, and we traded recipes. Anything to keep ourselves sane.”

“Are you asking me to join your walking group?” Penny pursed her lips at me, rolling her eyes. “What, you, me, and Ames could totally go for walks on the beach before school.”

“Good luck dragging that girl out of bed early,” She pushed my knee, laughing. “But seriously, Daisy, one of the best things you can do while he’s gone is stay busy and stay connected with me and with him.”

“How am I supposed to talk to him if I don’t know where he is?”

“You’ll most likely be able to call him but if you want to send him letters, you’ll give them to command and they’ll send the letters to him when they can.” When they can. That wasn’t very reassuring.

“What else do I need to know?”

I spent the day getting my affairs in order, scheduling a stop on my mail, making sure all my bills were on auto pay, and updating my will and life insurance policies. By the time it was lunch, my head was pounding from all of the tedious details.

When lunch time came and went without a word from Daisy or Penny, I stopped by the store and picked up a few things for Daisy’s apartment. Bath bombs, new pajamas, a few nice notebooks that she’d probably never write in for fear of “ruining” them. I chuckled to myself, I really did love her and all of her little quirks. If it wasn’t for Daisy’s one-year rule I’d pick her up from Penny’s and take her straight to the court house if she’d let me.

Deployments had never bothered me before, in fact, I loved them. They meant that I could fly on missions, feeling the adrenaline pumping through my veins as I kept an eye out for enemy bogeys. Now the thought of being away from home for even a few days made my heart hurt. I wanted to go to work in the morning, fly formations with the team, and come home to Daisy at the end of the day. I wanted to fall into bed beside her and tease her when she spent twenty minutes rearranging the blankets so she wouldn’t be hot.

The deployment hadn’t even started yet and I already wanted it to be over. I said a quick prayer, praying that this deployment would be a short one.

Taglist: @dizzybee03 @littlezee80 @nervousenemyduck @carolina-on-my-mind03 @mizzzpink @beltzboys2015-blog @writingrose @hookslove1592 @closetspngirl @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @closetspngirl @shanimallina87 @owenniasstars @cevansbaby-dove @caitsymichelle13 @bigstrongblackheart @mrsevans90

Next Chapter

#bet writes #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick #jake seresin #jake seresin x oc #hangman x oc #wildflowers for a hangman fic #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin fic #top gun hangman #hangman fluff #hangman smut #hangman #fanfic #glen powell

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shrimpwritings · 2 days ago

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Arcane Season 2: Vi Character Analysis and Speculations

It’s been a while since I’ve done a character analysis, and what better way to write one after watching the first three episodes of the second season of Arcane? This is just my interpretation and analysis, so it might not be the same as other people’s, and that’s okay! There will be major spoilers ahead, though, so please read at your own risk!

We’re all anxious to see what’s to become of Vi in Act 2 of season 2, and rightfully so, considering how badly Caitlyn fucked up. Despite the pain we feel for Vi in that scene, we can still sympathize with Caitlyn as her grief is taking charge over her rational thinking, but at that moment, Vi looks as if her whole world has crumbled.

Despite the jokes people have made online posting pictures of Vi’s models from season 1 and season 2, namely during her pit fighter era, with texts all saying something along the lines of, “This is what a lesbian situationship does to someone.” In a way, they’re right, but it holds a deeper meaning than just that.

Vi grew up with the weight of the world on her shoulders. Vander always told her she would be held responsible for whatever happened to Mylo, Claggor, and Powder– or Jinx. The first, and probably only person that had told her that whatever happened to her sister wasn’t her burden to bear was Caitlyn, so her betrayal hits hard. Vi finally thinks she’s found someone that won’t hold her accountable for the atrocities her sister commits, someone she’s comfortable showing vulnerability to.

Vi understands Powder died as soon as she was arrested, though it takes the entirety of season 1 to fully grasp that because, to her, time stopped. She was convinced she’d come back to that same little girl she abandoned against her will, but instead, she came back to an unstable person hellbent on chaos. Trying to live in a world that moved on was a difficult transition for her, only made easier by Caitlyn giving her a place to stay for a time, and running to her for comfort after her mother’s passing. She felt responsible for everything that happened, and it takes a soft moment between the two to make her truly understand that she doesn’t have to shoulder the burden of the casualties in the explosion.

Then the fight happens, and Vi stops Caitlyn from shooting Jinx and Isha.

“I keep telling myself that you’re different, but you’re not. It’s her blood in your veins.” “Then why are you the one acting like her?!”

The butt of a gun to the gut– the exact same place where Sevika had stabbed her in season 1 to be exact– and a glare from Caitlyn are the last things Vi receives before being left completely alone. We can see the absolute devastation on her face as she’s left completely alone, in pain and hurting, as the one person who she felt saw her as more than Jinx’s big sister leave her.

From what we know about Vi as a character, is that she knows that she, as a Zaunite, is frowned upon, and she will never be treated with respect. Caitlyn only solidifies this belief by how she lashes out at her for stopping her from killing Jinx and Isha in the crossfire.

So where does that leave Vi? In a place between Zaun and Piltover, unable to belong in either city as they’re torn apart by Jinx’s revolution and Ambessa’s declaration of martial law, working as a pit fighter to make ends meet and drowning herself in liquor. Caitlyn’s betrayal hurts more than anything Silco or Jinx could do to her because she truly, genuinely, loved her, and thought she did the same. Why wouldn’t she fall deeper into the pit she dug for herself, using black face paint and hair dye to forget about the person she was that foolishly fell for Caitlyn Kiramman?

With that said, I’m very excited and terrified of where Vi’s story is going to take us in Act 2. November 16th can’t come any sooner.

#arcane #arcane season 2 #vi #arcane season 2 spoilers #character analysis #arcane vi #league of legends #arcane lol #shrimp's analysis

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leslieseveride · 7 months ago

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the therapist did not seem as sus as she was last time when she had her session with aaron, but i still don't trust this bitch.

#carly lb the rookie #the rookie spoilers #6x07 #i was trying to scope out and see if she was gonna make some weird gesture or something cause that whole video camera thing WAS ALARMING #like tornado siren warning alarming #therapy sessions are supposed to be confidential idk what business she has recording these interactions #little worried for tim #like i'm so incredibly proud of him for taking a step up and recognizing that he needs help but idk man.....#somethings not right with her i can feel it in my gut #tim bradford

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itspileofgoodthings · 5 months ago

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tags continued from prev post.

#and all of this is true while it is ALSO true that her songs age incredibly well #even debut or random soundtrack songs or endgame #whatever song people try to put on the worst Taylor songs list NEVER QUITE BELONGS #it doesn’t feel right. and to some extent occasionally in mercurial flashes I feel the same about her BEST songwriting list #I can never rank anything of hers ever because she can write better than she has written #if anything finds her own songwriting dead it’s what her future self will be able to achieve #and I think sometimes even the public can SENSE this about her and it’s part of why people are sooooo hard on her in a brutal way #and in a way they never are with other artists. who have reached the limits of their potential #Taylor has not reached the limits —that’s the simple way of saying it #in some way she is still figuring out the artist she is going to be #and I really do think that it is going to be absolutely astonishing #because in some ways (this is going to sound crazy) she is still distracted by her success and her tour #she’s NOT but I mean. the canon hasn’t been fully set free #there are still somehow things holding her back #and we’ve watched her outstrip so much of those early confines that fame and the business of the music industry strapped around her #we’ve seen her say ‘that doesn’t apply to me’#but actually she’s going to and she needs to and I believe she WILL continue to move into rarefied air #my mom helped me give me the final piece of this feeling (and it’s just a deep gut intuition/brain chemical thing for me)#when she said one day almost in mild exasperation: maybe one day Taylor will grow into a Dolly Parton #and something CLICKED #in my brain. and I don’t agree with my mom in terms of her non-interest in Taylor (as much as it has pained me to do so)#I think she’s worth loving and paying attention to now #but that gap that exists between people who love her and people who don’t (full time haters internet trolls do not interact)#I think it’s going to close with time as her work stretches out and out and grows and changes #like I think by the end of her career we are going to have something so astonishing #and to loop it back for a second to a previous thought. I think that’s why sometimes a taylor song can sound disjointed to me. because it #will hit the Depths of the Depth for a second. it will transcend and then it will go back to merely being an excellent pop song #those flashes are everywhere in her work but I think she is going to work and hone them into being conductors of light in a more steady way #the older she gets. does this sound INSANE. idk sometimes I think it does and then sometimes I think it DOESNt. so who knows. but yeah #it’s hard to say because I know it will read as more critical of Taylor than I mean it to be. when really I mean it with so much awe

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shrumboooooooooooooooooooooooooo · 4 months ago

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i stayed up so late cuz ive been really frustrated lately and now im just perma awake

#its just cuz this entire year has been one gut punch after the other but im okay right now #i talked to my roommates about life stuff and childhood trauma so i feel better now #shes moving out soon and im really going to miss her #since shes like the only person i can actually talk to irl about serious life stuff anymore #and thats something ive always really appreciated in a person and it just makes me sad that i wont have thst anymore

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norfair-real-estate · 9 months ago

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was trying to take a nap and ended up thinking about love and how i want it so so bad. i want to be comfortable and easy with someone who wants to spend time with me. i was thinking "but all i can really give is myself that's all i have. i just want to be with someone where i can be myself and for that to be enough" and i started sobbing in my bed lol. maybe something is up

#idk. it's hard. i have a good life and i have friends but it's still hard sometimes #i've been watching my roommate and her girlfriend hanging out at our house & they're cute but just. the ease of them spending time together #is it really possible for me to be enough for someone as i am. with flaws and insecurities and a lack of grace. is that acceptable #i feel like there's nothing more i can give #there i go again lol #i don't really like spilling my guts on the internet like this but i wanted to write it down bc that was a very strong emotional reaction #and i could probably learn something from it #but not right now #txt

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dekuneho · 10 days ago

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reason ☆ ( thirdyear!katsuki x reader ) suggestive — your boyfriend breaks up with you, and katsuki doesn’t waste opportunities

The first fact Class 1-A learns about you is that you have a boyfriend.

Well — had. And now you’re third years, and it’s safe to say that you should’ve broken up long ago.

You had him since middle school, but they never met him. Your dynamic shifted from the perfect picture of high school sweethearts to something more toxic since you got into UA — 1-A, no less. Yuusei didn’t pass the UA exams and called you insensitive for asking him to come meet your ‘fancy hero friends’ while he was from some low-profile school, and back when you had sympathy for him, it was difficult to be peeved at his blatant jealousy. He had a compelling, teary face.

“That’s called manipulative,” Sero says.

“He was really insecure,” you confess. Not that it makes it any better. He was manipulative because he was insecure — but that wasn’t all. He’d been that way long ago. There was a different turning point.

Kirishima gives a gentle, understanding pat on the back. “We were busy enough as it is. But now we’re about to graduate; of course you started thinking more about your future.”

“And you got the perfect ending — a future without him!” Ashido cheers to that. You take a long, long, victorious sip.

Right. After your breakup, you phoned Ashido about it, unaware that she was out with the rest of your friends, but it wasn’t like you were on speaker. Ashido gasped and shrieked, and the rest continued in her apartment, bottles of fancy wine that probably came from Bakugou lined up on the table.

Bakugou had been silent the entire time, sitting on the far edge of the couch across yours. You didn’t even think he’d come along. He’d always been coldly indifferent when it came to anything related to Yuusei. He doesn’t offer a single word; you expected him to call you stupid for dragging it this long when you entered the room. He just stared, ruby tracing your every step.

“So? What made you snap?” Kaminari asks, nestling into the cushion beside you, slinging an arm over your shoulder. You feel like a prey as Bakugou’s gaze holds on Kaminari’s arm for a moment too long. “What shit did he pull this time?”

Bakugou had been the reason for your breakup, and it almost feels like he knows exactly that.

Yuusei despised him. Bakugou is the physical embodiment of everything Yuusei failed to be, and you were friends with him. It really didn’t help that Bakugou has an ego and can back it up; Yuusei didn't have either.

Yuusei was in a heated argument with a classmate, and you got irritated by his voice drowning out even your music at the loudest volume. So you got up, buried your feet in your outside shoes, and glanced back.

“Hey, I’m going out.”

Yuusei was already having an awful day, and came the bottled-up aggression that made him spit in seething venom: “What, don’t tell me you’re going out to fuck Bakugou behind my back again?”

You paused from where you had been tugging your jacket sleeves up your arms. And then, unadulterated fury. The rest is history.

But that’s embarrassing to admit to your friends. They’d ask why Yuusei would even bring Bakugou up — why he is even a recurring argument in your relationship. It wasn’t just Yuusei that was the problem. Somewhere buried deep that Yuusei could feel was your shame, the one that knew Yuusei wasn’t just threatened by Bakugou because of one thing.

“He was having a bad day,” you say instead, and the mendacious excuse slips so easily. Back then, you thought it was because you needed to defend Yuusei; now, it was because you feared them also knowing the truth. “And I realized I just couldn’t — uh, anymore.”

“Yeah,” Sero, Kirishima, Kaminari, and Ashido agree together.

Bakugou finally shifts from where he’d been unmoving, ducking down to fill his glass. “‘least you learned your fucking lesson.” His gaze flicks up; the intensity makes you feel so shameful. It coils in your gut. “Forget the losers who can’t handle themselves. Go for the best.”

Coming from him. Is he flirting? This has to be flirting, right? Every word he says feels so charged, blatant with intent.

“Whoa, fresh on the market and you’re already saying that? Give it a few months, at least,” Kaminari laughs, followed by some, but you and Bakugou aren’t laughing. You’re stuck in this weird staring competition — looking away feels like admitting defeat. Feels like you’d straight up confess that yes, it’s you! You’re the fucking reason why!

“Yeah,” you mutter, though you’re not sure if it’s in response to Kaminari or Bakugou’s. You drag on another sip but feel as sober as a judge. You feel like you’d need ten more before you could even deal with whatever shit Bakugou is pulling.

“Cheer up, baby,” Mina coos. “You know you’re a catch. Yuusei will know exactly what he lost.”

“I don’t care about him anymore,” you say, which is the complete truth. “I’m getting shitfaced because I feel like I’m about to make a very bad decision.”

“Um?” Kirishima voices worriedly. “Do we need to take you somewhere?”

Bakugou stands abruptly, jingling his car keys in between his fingers. “Come on.”

“Are you drunk?” he asks before you can even pretend to open your front door.

“I only smell like it, but I really am too clear-headed for this,” you swear.

The moment he pins you to the wall and buries his mouth into yours, you know you are gone. This is what Yuusei had been fearing, what you’d been hiding — and fuck, it feels so good. He kisses like he’s starving like he’s been holding back for as long as you are. The shame comes spilling out soon after.

“I just got broken up with,” you say in a futile attempt to ease your guilt. “Hey — Katsuki, do you even—”

“I know what I’m doin’,” he says, mouthing over where your jaw and neck meet. "I know you want me."

“God, this is so fucked up,” you say, trailing off in a whine that really says a lot about you. “I’m an asshole. You’re really good at kissing — Katsuki—”

“Try three years of patience and tell me again what’s more fucked up,” Katsuki rasps, breath searing a mark on your skin, inciting a shudder that came down from your toes to your dizzy head.

“You were waiting for Yuusei and me to break up?”

“I get what I want.” Katsuki pauses, his eyes flicking up, arresting yours for a breath. “And he was a dick. Was bettin’ since year one.”

You curl a strand of his untamed hair, unwittingly charmed. “Sorry for making you wait.”

He responds by capturing your lips in a kiss, prying your mouth open with his, licking in, biting, pulling, grinding, and —

Katsuki softens his hold on your hips, pushing off. “Hey.”

You pant. Wow, you think, lightheaded, you don’t think you’d ever been kissed that well. “Hey,” you exhale over his mouth.

Katsuki bears his forehead heavily down on yours. “This isn’t some one-night stand rebound bullshit, you hear me? I didn’t wait three years just to get my dick wet — we’re doin’ this shit, got that?”

“I know,” you say, smiling. “You’re the best of all of them, right?”

#ᥫ᭡ dekuneho #&katsuki #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bnha

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disteal · 1 year ago

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So I haven’t talked about this on main before, but the situation in South Gaza has gotten so horrifying that I’m p much throwing caution to the wind to desperately plead for eyes on this. I’m raising awareness about stories from activists in Gaza right now, including one of our own.

My lovely, wonderful friend Swin (aka tumblr user @combaticon) was deployed as a volunteer medic to a Gaza hospital on the 9th.

When the bloodshed started, she heard they needed extra hands in Gaza, she spoke Arabic and had the training, and she went.

I’ve been in contact with her throughout. She’s so incredibly brave it takes my breath away. My heart bleeds for these children she’s taking care of and how resilient they are is… astonishing.

Swin and these poor people have been under siege for so long, and they’re in desperate need of critical supplies. They have to filter water through their clothes, and it’s getting dangerously cold. Foods finally been getting through, but there’s not enough blankets and jackets to go around and there’s no fuel for the generators.

Their comrades in the West Bank have been completely pushed out by settler thugs. It’s incredibly unsafe to even be doing humanitarian work for Palestinians. Remember this the next time a Zionist tells you they’re doing this to ‘feel safe’. The IOF is arming lynch mobs.

On a personal note, this has been the most gut-wrenching week of my life. Every day when I wake up without a text from her I feel so much fear. I fight back the grief but I don’t know how to help or what to do. It’s terrifying.

Swin has asked for nothing, absolutely nothing other than something it can show the people around it to make them feel like they’re not going to be abandoned. To make sure they’re not forgotten in some pit praying Rafah opens before Israel decides to slaughter them all.

Today was a bad day. She’s alive but beyond worrying about her privacy now; she’s asked me to share this and to beg that we not lose steam and forget about them. Please share this, and please keep being fucking annoying and loud and digging your heels in with fury because we cannot let these people die silently.

[Times of Gaza] [QUD network] [Eye on Palestine]

[link to GCC registration website as the link in this picture is broken]

Please keep in mind that the Global Conscience Convoy is NOT soliciting donations, and registration is to sign up for attendance to the actual event in Cairo. There’s a list of other actions you can do to boost awareness for their protest at Rafah on the website.

#palestine #world news #gaza strip #israel #dis.txt #long post #psa #important #i just want her to come home man #i’m so so so so proud of her

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chqnified · 11 months ago

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Sometimes I wonder if I'm asking too much to just have a thought spared about me.

Stop trauma dumping on me and expecting me to magic responses you'll like out of thin air. When I don't, you get upset. Do you not think it's inappropriate to dump something on me during my work shift when you know i have my own baggage too?

Do you seriously not see my point about centring things around yourself? Can you not take a second to see where I'm coming from instead of deflecting it and making it about you again?

And your friends. I despise the lot of them. And I can tell you for a fact, by the way they talk about me, the feeling is mutual.

#they yap so much. makes me wonder if they'd be so bold to say it if I was stood in front of them... wild guess but probably not #they yap so much she can't not victimise herself for once.#it's always about you... and I'm tired of it #you don't even think about how i feel sometimes. like when i told you I'd failed that time. and you were the only one i told #and you knew that. but told a whole group chat it as a joke. a fucking throw away joke.#I've tried to speak out about things like you asked me to. apparently i shut you out too much. you didn't know what you did wrong.#apparently #so i speak out and you make me the problem and get defensive?#and you think I'd share my trauma with someone who does that?#apparently that's my problem too. i never share my baggage. maybe because i don't want to? ever thought that?#ever considered why i might not want to?#even in that situation. it becomes about you again. not about me. how can you make someone else's trauma about you? well. you manage.#vent #and i despise her friends so much. you don't understand #something is so intensely off woth them. immediately. gut feeling.#my gut feeling has always been right.

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obsessedwrhys · 7 months ago

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ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ The Seven x Deadpool!Reader

t/w: loooots of dark humour/jokes, reader is insensitive and an asshole since they're also a supe working at vought, your powers are the exact same as Deadpool (even the skin condition), mention about killing, death, gore, r-pe, n@zis?!?!, alcohol, some intimacy (?). Also reader is gn!!

ᯓ★ here's a version with the boys <3

HOMELANDER

This man hates you so fking much

Has tried to kill you multiple times, he tried lasering you, tearing you in half and even throwing you into the sky but you just always manage to come back like the damn plague

Eventually he gives up trying to kill you and just had to deal with the fact you'll be kept alive... just temporarily though... he's still looking for ways to kill you

However, your powers gave you dozens of advantages when around Homelander.

He can be having a meeting about something serious and everyone would be listening to him due to their fear towards him, then there's you who'd be doing your own thing and just shout out unrelated things like "Donald Trump just blocked me on Twitter!! HAH!! SUCK IT CORNFLACKS!!"

Everyone turning to you with startled expressions while Homelander simply rolls his eyes before continuing his presentation.

You are a complete nightmare to the PR team, that's why for interviews or any events, you'll always be paired up with Homelander so he can keep you under control and stop you from saying weird shit that could ruin the company's image.

"So Deadpool, how does it feel being in the Seven working alongside Homelander? You've been working together for almost 3 years now" A reporter would ask as you two are surrounded by screaming fans.

"Like I'm in the twilight series, not because of the fantasy but because I'm still waiting for the part where he impregnates me—"

"O-kay! That's enough, just silly ol' Deadpool with those inside jokes"

"You can tell in this eyes that he wants to fuck me right now. HE'S GONNA FUCK ME!!" You shouted as you're being dragged away by him.

Obviously when you had found out about his relationship with Stormfront, especially her background, you had to say some shit about it. Not giving the slightest care about the fact he could be grieving over her death.

He'll be in his room standing in front of the window and you'd just storm in, being as loud as possible.

"I can't believe you dated a N@zi!! Is it because I'm Jewish?!" Which may or may not be true, nobody knows your origin.

He may hate your guts but if he ever needs someone to help him do some dirty work, you're the person for the job, you never ask why or how, which could be the only thing he likes about you.

"Y'know, maybe if you didn't have such a big mouth, you'd be tolerable"

"All the people I've slept with have said otherwise"

Compatibility? 50%

STARLIGHT

Before she joined the Seven, she had an image of what kind of person you were, she just didn't know it was this worse.

When you found out she used to work at this Sunday School Church, you just haaaaad to say something about it.

"So like, you say that prayer always works, but every night I pray for my hair to grow and it never does. Do you think God has me blocked? How do I get unblock?"

"Uh..."

You two surprisingly get along without one wanting to slice the other's throat, except sometimes the things you say can really piss her off. Which is why when the company assigned her a new costume, she was trying her hardest to avoid you, but you found out anyways.

"Holy shit Starlight! Nice costume, is this your Miley Cyrus breakthrough? Girl power!"

Insert her groaning out of annoyance.

Again, the second you discovered she was dating a guy behind the death of Translucent, you were heartbroken :(

"Of course this happens right when my therapist gives up on me!"

Despite your behaviour, you pitied her when it was revealed that she was taken advantage of by The Deep, so like any good friend, you took revenge by cooking his friend octopus and eating it happily in front of him.

"Revenge does taste sweet" You'd say happily while Starlight just watches by the side, both grateful and horrified at your actions.

In my opinion, you would definitely be the person she goes to once she starts working with the boys, you'll always be providing whatever information that happens in the company for her to use.

It helps her worry less about getting anyone killed 'cause you literally can't die.

Compatibility? 60%

QUEEN MAEVE

You're half the reason why she rethinks about her life choices when she wakes up in the morning

Not because you're a handful (which you are) but because you're always paired together on missions

"Deadpool! The hostages!"

"OKAY! God... you act just like my drunk uncle"

Which is a joke/nickname you like to address her by because of her alcoholism (yikes)

Whenever the company needs you for something, half of the time she's the one assigned to search for you.

There was this one time she caught you trying to have Anika track down Kanye West's location, nobody knows what shenanigans you were up to.

Another thing to mention was that you two were chosen by the company to sing a Christmas song for the year's Christmas ceremony.

Just imagine during the bridge of the song, she's singing normally while you're completely going off, your high note so high you were sure you had Mariah Carey a run for her money.

Even though she finds you a lot to deal with, you're actually her buddy to train with.

Since you're very skilled with Katanas, she likes to practice her swordsmanship with you.

You like to tease or make fun of her everytime she fails to strike you which is good motivation for her to get better. Maybe you guys bring out the best of each other?

Last thing I'd like to add is when she was found out by the public that she was a lesbian (She's bi but you get the running joke), you had gifted her a t-shirt that says, 'Biggest Dick in Town'

Compatibility? 80%

THE DEEP

Your human punching bag

If Vought was a high school instead of a company, you'd be the bully and he'd be the nerd getting stuffed inside the locker room.

For example, Homelander could be confronting Starlight about her relationship with Hughie and everyone would just start raising their voices til you come in yelling "SHUT UP!" to the Deep who had not said a single thing during the entire time.

Just imagine him staring at you like 😐

To be honest you also ate his friend octopus so you guys are actually never getting the chance to make up.

"Look dude, I don't appreciate your tone"

"I don't appreciate your haircut either but we can't all get what we want"

You may be a crazy person but you weren't going to be okay with the fact he violates every woman he sees, so not only did you cook the octopus but you also called in a male stripper disguised as a woman just for him to celebrate on his birthday.

Just imagine him all happy when you tell him the news and later that night he'll run inside your room, completely pissed off at your act after finding out but you just laughed and said.

"Happy April Fools 😚!"

"That's next month dipshit!"

Also, you never understood his weird fantasies. He has a thing for sea animals??You've caught him multiple times either flirting or getting off to one. It was concerning even for you.

"From how many animals you've fucked, you might just turn from the ocean's 'Seaman' to 'Semen'." You joked which he did not find funny.

Maybe you messing with him could just be your way of getting along with him since you're the same with everybody else, it's just he has more flaws to poke fun of and he's sensitive about them.

Compatibility? 5%

A-Train

He thinks you're fucked up in the head.

Half of the shit that comes out of your mouth just has him reacting like in the GIF

Buuuuuut you're the one he always brings to the club because you always know ways to give the party life.

You've somehow even got on the wall of fame, a lovely portrait of you with your hands making out a heart.

Also, you know about his business with Compound V waaaaay before anyone else did. He's still grateful you didn't tell anyone.

Just like everyone else, you also enjoy messing with him except he's fast and constantly avoiding you.

"Hey A-Train, how much do you wanna bet that I can die faster than you?"

"Dude... seriously?"

You guys rarely get sent on missions together because you're always slowing him down, not basing off the fact he's fast but because you get easily sidetracked with other things.

"Alright, we're here now, how much C4 do we use?"

"Fuck math! Let's use all of 'em!"

You ended up detonating all of the C4 on you before he could object the idea, he was able to run out in time, your action nearly getting him killed while you ended up dead.

But it's fine you'll just grow back.

You know that race he has against Shockwave? You'd be at the VIP section standing near where Homelander and Queen Maeve is, waving your huge banner that has a picture of A-Train's face and yours pasted over a figure carrying the other in bridal style.

Compatibility? 55%

TRANSLUCENT

He makes people paranoid but you make him disgusted.

There was this one time he was bored so he snuck in your room to see what you were doing.

At first he was confused why you had so many cute plushies but then the more he explored your room, he realised your room is basically every collector's dream.

You even had a huge teddy bear in the corner of your dressing room.

The reason why he doesn't like to spy on you is because the last time he did, he saw you putting your hand in the blender, then proceeding to put your private part into it.

Never again, he thought, never again.

He doesn't need to witness you carry out your intrusive thoughts.

Surprising enough, you're close with his son, I'd like to think that after his death, you practically became the kid's godparent. Though you can be sort of a bad influence, leading up to how he is in Gen V.

You always tell him you hate kids but he thinks otherwise.

After all, he can read people well.

You guys like to pull pranks on each other since you guys like competing on who's more sneaky

There was this one time, you woke up to find your suit gone so you ended up walking around the building, completely naked and unfazed by people's stares.

It was when you walked around the corner that you found your suit worn by someone else, turns out it was Translucent under it.

"Why is it so fucking tight dude? How do you stay in this shit all day?"

"You get used to it"

Compatibility? 85%

BLACK NOIR

Lovers.

He doesn't mind your attitude because he actually can't say anything about it.

No seriously... he can't talk.

But hey he's got a good shoulder to cry on.

"I just... hffgh... I can't believe my album didn't surpass lady gaga's... She doesn't even know how to use Katanas like I do!" You'd let out a loud sob while he just stares at you for a while before placing a hand on your shoulder, patting you gently.

You know the scene where he's playing the piano for one of the company's party? You'll be laying down on top of it and singing in your usual overdramatic high pitched voice.

He finds your humour amusing so he always does this little head tilt like in the GIF when you say some weird shit while waiting for his response.

Since both of you are the only members of the Seven that wears a full body suit, obviously you had to try on his but since it was impossible to achieve that, you just had the company make a copy for you.

He'll be walking down the hallway doing his normal routine until he notises another person in his suit, the moment you speak and he realises its just you is when he let's his guard down.

"I just got some transplants done to my ass, that's why I look different"

You both are never sent on missions together 'cause you guys don't work well, pretty much nobody works well with him since he's the silent type.

Example, you two were hiding behind some crates ready to jump on the bad guys who were snucking in illegal drugs. He gestured for you to wait as he went to check again, only to turn back to see you gone.

"Marry Christmas motherfuckers!"

He heard your voice shout and he found you standing on top of the stacked crates, machine gun in hand and began shooting aimlessly.

He didn't even do anything but just watch until you ran out of bullets. However, multiple survived and began shooting at you so you ended running towards where he's hiding at.

"Yankee yankee!" You yelped.

You know the video of the two girls taking off their wigs to reveal that they're bald and they start bonding over it? I'd like to imagine that's you and Black Noir with the skin condition under the suits.

One more scenario I wanna add, you guys could be having a meeting but since you were bored and you always hated meetings, you'd draw a big heart on a piece of paper and show it to Black Noir from across the table. Surprisingly he'd draw a heart back to you.

You were overjoyed so you began to draw you and him doing it, doggy style. He stares at your doodle for a while before choosing to just focus on the meeting instead.

Compatibility? 90%

(This took a while cause I was on vacation)

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