#uncharted self insert

[leviiackrman]

SIMS 4 OC LOOKBOOKS: The Drakes - Jess, Sam, Tobin, Natalie, Winnie & Bailey

A new family inbound! When I say new, I mean to the sims lmao, these guys are some of my longest running ocs - from back in the early days! So glad I can finally capture this family all together cus I love them so much! Like father like son for their boy Toby, while Natalie has the most calm mind of all of them - no one knows how that happened. Wouldn’t be complete without their fur babies: Winnie and the now v elderly Bailey! (Bailey has seen every inch of this couples bullshit… she’s v tired) Let me know who’s your favourite!

Ackermans || Rikihisas || Enatsu || Kyutoku || Olalias || Hatakes || ATLA || Ginnivan || Ishimoto

Tag list (ask to be added or removed): @carrionsflower @statichvm @risingsh0t @simonxriley @tommyarashikage @kanos @confidentandgood @unholymilf @florbelles @thedeadthree @shellibisshe @roofgeese @aezyrraeshh @faerune @tekehu @jackiesarch @minaharkers @sergeiravenov @carlosoliveiraa @rosenfey @greenecreek @queennymeria @heroofpenamstan @alexxmason @tethrras @jamessunderlandgf @a-treides @solasan @bigbywlf @delzinrowe @fenharel @imogenkol

[earthtoluisa]

see a totally official concept art of uncharted 4 !?!?

I wanna draw my selfinsert with Nathan drake and Chloe Frazer like so badlyyyyy

Pls tell me any of y’all like uncharted I wanna gush about my two lovers so badly like oivgvvggvfc

[nathandrakeisabottom]

HELP: WRITER SEEKS WILL TO WRITE!

Real, and very important question, friends:

do i finally give us my huge oc megafic I've been working on the past two years because the fandom is so 'nate x elena'-drunk that the thought of even trying to write something different that challenges that makes me feel like a terrible fan?? That trying to write something that offers a different take sounds pointless and a recipe for hate comments from a community I want to impress and love and be apart of??

that other fans have hammered home so desperately 'these two can only be together!!' that it feels wrong and almost like... a disservice to this thing I love so dearly to imagine that nate could be attracted to a different, unconventional type of person?? like i'm loving my favorite game and my favorite character... wrong?

the incessant and sheer level of 'elena is the woman who you wife up, chloe is the woman for a short fling.' comments I've experienced while in this fandom have ruined my self-esteem the past few years and made me completely reconsider what my 'role' even is as a woman. because what if you're not EITHER of those types of woman? is there even a place? why the hell are people one thing and one thing alone? when the hell did humanity decide only one type of person should get to experience the full range of love? what the fuck?!

this thing i love dearly has made me feel sub-human, and this work i've been writing was an answer to that. a what-if. what if nobody and nothing was the way it seemed? what if the unexpected and unconventional was possible and even better than the things we've been told for forever to be? what if they all (and i mean ALL) deserved love anyway? what if a woman is neither The Wife (tm) OR The Sensual Fling (tm) (also fuck all the way off Chloe is a deeper, most human, more interesting character than half those folks), and is instead the best friend who draws cartoon dicks on your shoulder in sharpie and is a solid six? is she deserving of love, too? is she deserving of maybe being a wife someday, too? especially if it's to someone like nathan drake?

okay clearly i lied and there are in fact a lot of rhetorical questions in this long post i didnt mean to make so long but point still stands:

do i keep trying to write this story i love when every time i try to write it it makes me feel terrible about myself and the validity of my love for this game?

[giransbunnywife]

Uncharted Insert Reference !!

I know I made the bio format version, however this one is more design focused! The spunky and ambitious journalist that has Victor Sullivan's heart in a fucking vice. The tattoos are displayed but not on her due to the fact that I still can't make up my mind how I want them to look on her skin yet.

[jahayla-parker]

The Master : Tom Holland x Reader (Completed Series)

Descr: Reader is the prop master for Uncharted. She therefore meets Tom on set and soon they’re falling for each other. But will things burn out before filming is over? Or will they be able to make it? Fluff, some hurt-comfort and angst-to-fluff

Warnings: flirting and pining of course, manipulative ‘friends’, reader can’t swim (& falls into ocean very briefly), gift gifting, birthdays, (briefly mentioned) creepy man, mentions of alcohol, SEE WARNINGS for Part 8 separately below,

Notes: Reader’s ethnicity (Latina) and age are briefly mentioned in part 7 but rest of the story is meant to read as a reader insert still.

Part 1 - Ringing Introductions

Part 2 - Crushing and Flirting

Part 3 - Bonding in Barcelona

Part 4 - Daring Acts

Part 5 - Courting in the Club

Part 6 - Self-Appointed Protector

Part 7 - Birthdays and Dates

Part 8 - Ready to Rush (18+ ONLY, SMUT. Can be skipped without issue.)

Part 9 - The Incident

Part 10 - T-Minus Two Weeks

Part 11 - Revelations Lead to Solutions

The End

This was a Ko-fi request by the lovely

@theslayerofthevampires Thank you again for the support as always Angel 🥰

Taglist: @theslayerofthevampires @galaxyholland @bigbirdstwins @mcushvft @fishingirl12 @raajali3

@justapurrcat @natswifeysblog15 @directioner5life

@ell0ra-br3kk3r @laylasbunbunny

Tom Holland Masterlist

All My Works / My Main Masterlist Navigation

[wayfaringhoax]

Riddles

Frankie “Catfish” Morales x Female Reader

Click here for part two

Word count: 12k+

Summary: You and Frankie become ‘friends with benefits’ until you evolve into something more. But when you can’t seem to communicate your needs, you find yourselves in uncharted territory.

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: 18+ Minors Do Not Interact

Explicit sexual content (p in v, female receiving oral, dirty talk, semi-public sex, sexting, sending nude photos), references to sex scattered throughout, swearing, unhealthy relationships, making each other jealous, communication issues, discussions of low self-esteem, conflicted emotions, angst, possessive! Frankie, reader wears Frankie’s t-shirt, consumption of alcohol, references to religion and drugs (purely for metaphorical purposes), public discussions of sex, reader is described as having a vagina and breasts. 

This is a reader insert fic, but there are a few plot details that lean towards an OFC. Reader's mentioned as having two parents, letting their hair 'down' after work, and one of their friends is given a name. If any of these details make you uncomfortable, please refrain from reading.

New to the community, so this hasn’t been beta’d.

Been working on this for a few weeks, please let me know if you enjoy it!

Get coffee, meeting, reply to emails, meeting, lunch, marketing proposal, planning period, meeting.

As you opened your planner that morning, you were greeted by your responsibilities for the day. However, each damn meeting brought you one step closer to the end of the work day, and subsequently one step closer to leaving your office and heading to Benny’s Fight Night.

Due to your busy schedule, you hadn’t been able to make it to one of his fights for a while so you often resorted to wishing him luck via a text message. Having the chance to actually be there and support him in person was therefore a big deal for you. Plus, you’d also have the chance to grill the eldest Miller brother, having set him up on a date with your friend a few weeks ago, only to have her tell you it didn’t work out. You knew Will would be prepared for you to press him, and being as stoic as he was, you anticipated that he wouldn’t reveal much.

How many times had they reprimanded you for attempting to play matchmaker?

You couldn’t help it. It was only natural for you to want the best for them, you’d shared so much of your life with them, and they’d been by your side when it counted.

Of course, you were only a kid when you first met the Miller brothers. When your parents had befriended theirs, you were quick to latch on to them, glad to have two little friends to annoy. You often spent holidays chasing them around their home, and they enjoyed bringing their LEGO to yours, much to the dismay of your poor mother, who wasn’t prepared for how much mess they’d bring.

Sure, shit got real when you got older.

After you graduated from college, you threw yourself into work. You successfully climbed up the ranks, securing enough money to live comfortably. Though you admit, you had to sacrifice a lot in the process, regularly denying yourself the chance to be happy - to be loved - in the name of prioritising your career. 

Every time you wake up in the middle of the night, yearning for the comfort of another body, you’re reminded of the loneliness that sometimes plagues you.

Benny and Will weren’t strangers to the feeling either. You’d been around to see the darkness that followed them home from deployment. The darkness that tarnished some of their ability to accept love. The same darkness that made them hold on to you that little bit tighter, now very much acquainted with the feeling of loss.

You would never be able to understand what it was like for them. Never be able to fully comprehend the extent of their trauma. Some part of you knew that for Benny and Will, relationships weren’t as simple as they used to be.

But that didn’t stop you from trying to set them up. You appreciated that your attempts were futile, they were just gestures of good faith, really. They communicated that you cared. That you wanted them to be happy - and they saw that for what it was: their friend looking out for them.

On the other hand, Benny and Will rarely tried to set you up on dates, understanding that the guys they knew wouldn’t be the right fit for you.

Despite this, they made sure to constantly remind you that you weren’t getting laid.

An issue you were sure they’d raise again, at some point this evening.

It wasn’t as though you weren’t looking. 

Respectfully, you’d found most of the boys’ friends attractive, and perhaps, there was one man from their Delta Force squad, in particular, who’d caught your eye.

A man with a serious attachment to his baseball cap.

A man who seems burdened by his affliction, shouldering the weight of it all by himself. 

A man who was just so gorgeous, yet often chose to play it safe, hanging back when in the presence of the other boys.

Yes, Francisco Morales. Or Frankie, as the boys called him. 

You had looked at Frankie. Many times. He’d definitely caused you to lose your train of thought more than once, having been mesmerised by his features; strong yet with a particular softness. 

Whilst you acknowledged your attraction to this man, you got the sense that he wasn’t available. 

Benny had never mentioned a wife or a girlfriend when he spoke about Frankie, but you still felt as though there was some kind of invisible wall up, preventing you from getting any closer. 

Besides, you were going to support Benny tonight, not ogle his friend. You could keep it under control. 

Or at least you tried, yet the way Frankie let out a soft chuckle as Benny teased you about becoming a crazy cat lady, was testing your patience.

Now, you were avoiding his gaze, afraid of having to confront your attraction to the man across the locker room. This was proving to be quite easy, as Benny’s enquiry into your (lack of a) sex life had you staring up at the ceiling in embarrassment, hoping the ground would swallow you whole. 

“C’mon, I’m only looking out for you here. You gotta break the dry spell soon, else it’ll become even harder to get back out there.”

Benny continues his onslaught, deciding to raise the point that if he didn’t fight for a while, he’d simply have no skill when he got back in the ring.

Frustrated, you roll your eyes at his comparison before telling him, “That’s unfair, Benny.”

Santiago chooses this moment to weigh in, reassuring you, “Bonita, you could have any guy you wanted, huh? What’s stopping you?”, and before you have the chance to speak, Benny jumps in on your behalf.

“That’s what I keep telling her, but she keeps making up all these issues. Worrying too much.”

“Well these issues are real concerns for me. I don’t want a relationship right now, but one-night stands aren’t for me either. There’s too many unknowns with hookups. Do you know how many married guys take their rings off just so they can take girls home for a night?”, you tell Benny incredulously, trying to communicate the extent of your concern.

Benny senses your ire, beginning to back off slightly, yet not before proposing, “Why don’t you just get a fuck buddy? Then you can get laid all you want. Problem solved.”

Sure, the prospect was very appealing to you. Someone you could count on to give you orgasms and not have to worry about the strings attached? 

You’d sign yourself up right now. 

The problem was, where would you find such a man? You shuddered at the thought of returning to the dating apps, having had enough interesting encounters on there to put you off using them again.

Turns out Benny had his own solution to that problem, choosing this moment to turn his attention to his friend who was currently leaning against the lockers, arms folded against his chest. It was almost as though Frankie could sense what was coming next, as he retreated further back into himself, looking down at the floor in a futile attempt to avoid being targeted by his younger friend.

“Hey, Fish is right there. He’s been hard up for god knows how long now. Why don’t you scratch each other’s backs, huh?”

Right now, he was cursing himself for having one too many beers that night at Santi's house, when he’d opened up to the guys about his sexual frustration.

“Jesus Christ”, groans Frankie, his eyes looking at Benny disapprovingly.

Turns out you two did have something in common, as you both looked as though you could kill Benny with your stares. The younger Miller, however, was sporting a grin that would rival the Cheshire Cat’s, thoroughly pleased with himself.

With the attention span of an excitable puppy, Benny was quick to move on. You guess it had something to do with the way Will was looking at him, the subtle tilt of his head gesturing to Benny that he needed to get his head back in the game.

But that didn’t stop you from wanting to die of embarrassment. 

Sure, Benny had a fight to focus on, but you had to survive a couple more hours in Frankie’s presence. 

You pushed the strap of your bag further up your shoulder, hoping that having something to hold on to would quell the anxiety bubbling in your stomach. Straightening your posture, you hazard a glance over at where Frankie’s stood, only to realise he’s not there.

Pushing open the double doors, you exit the locker room and spot Frankie, way ahead of you, and his steps are somewhat urgent as he catches up to Santi.

Shrugging it off, you find your seat and wait for the fight to commence.

****

He’s struggling.

Frankie’s still reeling from Benny’s comment. He knows the only reason Benny said that was to rile you up, and he knows he shouldn’t still be thinking about it now. But he just can’t get the way you looked tonight out of his head.

He grabs himself a beer and settles onto his couch, before allowing images of you to flood his head; the late-night news report swiftly forgotten.

He imagines your hair, slightly tousled after a long day at work. It was extremely sexy, to him; the image of you letting your hair down as you leave the office. It signified you letting loose, and he could only imagine what it would be like to have you lose control around him. God, he’d give anything to run his hands through it as you looked up at him with those eyes. 

Fuck, you were gorgeous. 

Frankie’s got it bad for you. Has done for quite some time now. Ever since he was introduced to you at Benny’s birthday party last year, you had taken over all of his fantasies. Being around you consumed all of his energy, as he often fought hard enough to play it cool whenever you spoke to him; always worrying he’d scare you off with his dark wit. 

And for Benny to joke that he had a chance with you? Well, that was cruel. 

He managed to make an escape from the locker room before you noticed, latching onto Pope in an attempt to recompose himself.

You were far too good for him.

He had baggage; struggles he was still working through. 

You, on the other hand, were stable. With a successful career, a solid group of friends and a pretty house at the end of the block, you intimidated him. 

Frankie often wondered how you had spent so much of your adult life around the Millers, seen the damage that had been done to them, and yet you still had a certain innocence about you. It was like you had seen first-hand just how unforgiving the universe could be, but you still saw purpose beyond the pain.

Yep, he needed to stay away from you.

Deciding to push his demons aside for the moment, Frankie casts his mind back to the times he’d tried, and clearly failed, to put the moves on you.

There had been the brush of his hand on your waist as you walked by him in Will’s kitchen to get another beer. And the time you fell asleep on Benny’s sofa, he had shuffled closer, allowing your head to rest ever so slightly in his lap. Frankie also recalls each time he’d driven you home from the bar, only driving away when he saw you head inside. As you sat in his passenger seat, Frankie came to the conclusion that your presence was downright intoxicating. Therefore, he always volunteered to be the designated driver in the hopes he could drink up more of you.

It was getting late. Late enough that he could put all this down to being some kind of a fever dream.

Frankie’s about to head up to bed, when his phone lights up with a text message.

A text message from you.

Yeah, this was definitely feeling like a surreal experience.

He decides to bite the bullet and glances down at your message.

Hey, Frankie. Just wanna say sorry about before. We all know Benny loves to tease, but I hope he didn’t make you uncomfortable. Hopefully see you soon! x

Frankie’s not quite sure what you have to apologise for, and frankly, his attention was elsewhere; on the last four words of your text. God, he hoped to see you again.

He sends his reply swiftly.

Hey, you don’t need to be sorry. I’ve definitely had worse thrown at me by the boys. Don’t worry about it. Hope you enjoyed the fight?

Frankie knows he’s pushing his luck, but he adds that little question mark hoping you’d take the bait to talk to him for a little longer.

You reply almost instantaneously, much to Frankie’s delight.

Yeah, it was great! Once I stopped wanting to kill Benny. Until then I was kinda rooting for the other guy. Promise you won’t tell him? 

Can’t promise anything, Cariño, came Frankie’s response. 

Your humour almost seemed like flirting, and Frankie would be a fool not to try, so after hitting send, he relaxes back into the couch whilst awaiting your response.

Huh. Knew I couldn’t trust a man with the name Francisco.

Fuck. Frankie was immediately consumed by visions of you - saying his name. 

Imagining how his name would sound coming from those perfect lips of yours caused something to stir deep down in his gut. 

Get it together, Frankie. Get it together. 

He found it a little harder to type his next words.

Not many men you can trust these days. But you deserve to be with one who takes good care of you.

He hadn’t intended to get so deep so quickly, but the thought of you being hurt in the past caused an unpleasant feeling to grow in his chest. You were so beautiful, so good. You had your whole life ahead of you. Whichever asshole had broken your trust in the past didn’t deserve to be breathing right now, Frankie was certain.

You take a little longer to reply, causing Frankie to doubt himself for a moment before his phone lights up again.

Thanks, Frankie. I feel like I really needed to hear that. You deserve to be loved, too. 

The sincerity of your words almost knocked the wind right out of him. Pleasantly surprised at the turn his evening took, Frankie longed to draw more of those confessions from you. 

Pope’s right, you know. You could have any guy you wanted, Bonita. 

The Frankie who hadn’t gotten anywhere with you before was not expecting the response you gave.

Any guy, huh?

And before he has time to process your insinuation, you send another text.

Even you? 

Oh, he wasn’t prepared for you to say that. So understandably, his response is delayed.

Shit, he needs to tread carefully here, he thinks, as he eventually composes his next few words.

Cariño, you need to be careful what you say to me. I don’t do well with riddles. 

On edge, Frankie’s composure is wavering. He’s definitely not prepared when he spots an incoming call from you yet he doesn’t hesitate to pick up.

“Hi…I, uh…I don’t even know what I’m doing Frankie.”, your words are soon followed by a soft, yet nervous, laugh.

“Do you wanna come over?”

Frankie swears he hears the breath leave his lungs, before all but moaning out, “Yeah.”

“Be there in 15.”

****

Of all the things you thought you’d be doing at 2 am on a Friday night, giving Frankie directions to your house wouldn’t have been your first guess. 

What were you thinking? You became a woman possessed. The dark timbre of his voice had caused a warm, fuzzy feeling to grow in your tummy, and before you knew it, you had invited him over for a late-night booty call.

You keep your hands busy, clearing up some of the mess in your bedroom when the realisation hits you. You were going to have sex with Frankie. 

Is this really happening?

The doorbell rings and you soon realise that - yes - this does seem to be happening, and it’s happening right now.

Like the cat about to get its cream, you slink to the door to let him in. You’re hoping your face doesn’t betray your eagerness as you greet Frankie with a smile. 

He takes a moment to assess your features, apprehensive that you may have changed your mind whilst he was driving over. Finding only a hint of shyness in your otherwise confident persona, he knows he’s made the right call. Frankie needs to see you move first. He’s not going to enter your apartment until he knows you want him in there. 

Luckily for him, you turn your body to the side slightly, allowing him to see further into your apartment. You take a step back; it’s an invitation that needs no words - it simply says, chase me. See what you’ll find. 

And he does. But not before looking away from you and rolling his eyes ever so slightly. You don’t know if he’s amused or frustrated, but you know you’ve got him right where you need him when he crosses your welcome mat.

His eyes return to you, then, and he gives you an assured nod. It’s Frankie’s way of asking you what your next move is. After all, he’s on your turf right now. 

Desperate to break the silence, you tell him, “Thanks for coming, I know it’s late.”. Choosing that moment to head to your bedroom, you lead the way. Hoping. Wanting. Praying he’ll follow you.

Frankie follows. He follows you blindly - like a disciple on a mission - trusting that wherever he’ll end up, it will be worth it. 

When he reaches your doorway, he’s greeted by a sight so divine, he’s forced to rethink his stance as an agnostic. 

You’re kneeling on the bed, stretching over to switch on the light, when he admires the way your back is arched like a feline wanting to play. He sees your mischief. And, as your shoulders dip low, he becomes hung up on the view of your ass in this position. He definitely wants to play, too.

The tension gets thicker and thicker as Frankie advances forward. He wants to test the waters; see what you do next. But he also wants to dive in headfirst and lap up your sweetness like a man starved. Frankie is a man starved, and he’s losing resolve with every passing second in your presence.

Of course, he’s delighted when you turn to face him again. You kneel on the bed, right in front of him this time, sitting back on your legs with your hands behind your back. You push your chest forward and sit up tall in a way that almost short-circuits Frankie’s brain. You look so submissive; preening and proud to put your body on display for him. So eager to learn, to please him. 

He knows you’re toying with him. You look so innocent sitting like that, but Frankie also knows you’re playing naughty. 

He wouldn’t have it any other way, though. Your moxie had his cock aching in his pants. 

Cautiously, Frankie rakes his eyes over your body, trying to figure out your next move. The soft glow of light in the room gives you an advantage, however, and you manage to catch him off guard. 

He’s too focused on the way you bite your bottom lip to notice your hands on his belt buckle.

Frankie thinks you’ll unbuckle it, yet you surprise him again as you use it to pull his body flush to yours. You’re on the bed and he’s stood up, and you adore the way he’s making you feel so small and pliant right now.

Sporting a mischievous grin of his own now, Frankie moves his lips to your neck.

“Don’t thank me yet, baby. Not until you’re cumming all over my tongue.” 

How’s a girl supposed to respond to that?

By some miracle, you manage to stay upright on the bed, and you decide you need to regain control of the situation before Franke dirty-talks you to death. 

“Francisco…”, you purr devilishly, toying with the hair at the nape of his neck. 

Frankie lets out a sinful groan; with just enough impatience to let you know he’s yours. There’s nowhere else he’d rather be right now than hanging on to every word you say. He can tell you’re being bratty. He loves it. Loves the way you’re taunting him, waiting for the moment he snaps and fucks you how you need to be fucked.

You repeat Frankie’s earlier words to you. “So…I could have any guy I wanted, huh? You really think so?”

Frankie thinks your smile looks a little bashful, for a second, before he notices the way you’re running your tongue across your bottom lip as you toy with the neck of his t-shirt. There’s a glint of something in your eyes. Your smile. That tells him he’s clueless as to the game you’re playing tonight, yet you’re definitely playing him. 

And, well, Frankie’s down for the ride. At this point, he’d promise you the world just to get a taste of the heaven between your thighs. 

Refocusing, he decides that’s what he needs to do.

“Cariño… so needy. You got my attention. All of it. No need to play up.”, says Frankie in a heady whisper.

You realise, then, that you may have underestimated the man in front of you.

But you definitely aren’t prepared for what he says next.

“On your back, baby. Panties off. Let’s see if you’re still an impatient little brat after you get your pussy eaten.”

Unable to form words, you get to the task at hand, dragging your lacy panties down your legs. You swear you can feel your skin throbbing as your hands skim your thighs. There’s nothing he could ask of you right now that would be too much, you decide, as you settle onto your back. 

He’s still fully clothed, and it’s almost like he senses your concern as he suddenly begins to undress. Starting with his t-shirt, he moves with urgency; afraid he’ll miss something if he takes his eye off you for a second. His hands reach for his belt, and you’re trying your best not to drool at the way he looks right now. Hair ruffled from your touch, chest heaving in anticipation of the pleasure you’re teasing of, and eyes glossy and wide. You’re simply mesmerised by the way this man looks when he’s affected. You’ve only ever seen him composed, playing it cool. You’ve never witnessed Frankie lose it, but you’re hoping that’s subject to change. Soon.

“Frankie…”, you beg. “Don’t keep me waiting, baby.”

Despite the way your impatience amuses Frankie, he decides he can’t wait any longer and dives down, using his hands to pry your legs open.

He nips the inside of your thigh, just far enough from where you need him to have you arching your back already; like a creature in heat.

You’re dying to express that you disapprove of his teasing, but you figure you should probably be a good girl considering he’s about to take care of you.

However, Frankie’s not done. His kisses trail higher, and as he reaches your knee, he places kisses there too, as he huffs out a demand. 

“You’re gonna be a good girl and give me all those pretty moans of yours. Take what I give you. Be grateful.” The way he emphasises those final two words tells you he’s not messing around, and you’re ashamed of the way you moan at the authority in his voice.

“Yes, baby. I’ll try to be good…. for you.”, you say. 

“Try, huh?”, is his response, as he reaches for a pillow, tapping your hip as a signal for you to lift them up. He places the pillow underneath your hips, and you’re ready to melt as he uses his thumb to rub firm circles into the spot just beneath your right breast. He applies a good amount of pressure, and all you can think about is how completely at his mercy you are right now; squirming underneath him in desperation. 

Frankie finally uses that tongue of his. But it’s not where you need it…yet. 

He draws your nipple into his mouth, sporting a smug grin as he does so. You want to scream. You can feel just how puffy and swollen your pussy is from the lack of attention it's receiving. As you feel it clench around nothing, you buck up against him whilst he continues to tease you. He’s sucking the peak into his mouth, drawing his tongue around in torturously slow circles, before releasing it with an audible pop. Frankie moves to continue his ministrations with your other breast, and in your petulance, you make the mistake of fighting him.

You hook your left leg around the back of his, trying to position your aching centre against the rough denim of his jeans; desperate for some friction.

But Frankie had been expecting you to challenge him. He’s seen your spark when you’d both been out with the other guys, it was one of the things that drew him to you in the first place. He recalls how you’d light up when you became competitive, you’d find ways to provoke your opponent yet you were able to mask it well. You’d get all giggly and cute, playing it off like you just got a bit over excited, and Santi, or whatever poor schmuck had gone up against you, would give in to you. Often letting you win. 

Well, Frankie wasn’t giving in that easily.

His hand shoots out to hold your left thigh open, whilst he uses his leg to pin down the other one; keeping you splayed out just how he wanted. You’re taken aback by his strength and you can’t deny it makes your pussy even needier. You need him, and your frustration has made you bold enough to tell him.

“Frankie, baby.”, you whine. “Need your mouth on it. On my pussy.”

He lets out a dark chuckle at that. And he decides to punish your brattiness with silence. You’re easy to read, to him, and he knows you’re liking the way he’s running his mouth whilst in your bed. But you’re reaching for too much, and he’s got to show some resistance for both of your sakes. 

Of course, Frankie would give you anything, but he’s not sure what your intentions were for inviting him into your bed. He assumes you’re after a no-strings-attached arrangement, and he’s gonna need to keep you wanting more if he’s to keep you. 

Pushing the thought aside for now, he focuses on his next move: giving you what you need. 

After what feels like a century, Frankie finally dips his head down to where you’re dripping for him. He’s sure he’s never seen a pussy so sweet and so responsive. He’s not even touched you there and he can see you clenching around nothing. 

His thick fingers part your folds and the way his breath ghosts over you has you crying out to him. 

“Ngghhh…fuck. Need it.”, you draw out in a frustrated giggle, and at this moment, Frankie thinks - no he knows - that you’ve ruined all other women for him. You sound so sexy, like a little vixen, but at the same time, there’s a sweetness about you that’s humbling.

Frankie decides he needs to reassure you. “Shhhh, Cariño. I’ve got you. You’ll get what you need.”

And you do get what you need, as Frankie forces your legs open even wider before licking a thick stripe all the way from your fluttering hole to your throbbing clit with his tongue - and the noise you make is untamed. 

He takes his time, opening you up on his tongue. He knows you need his fingers inside but he’s not sure you deserve it just yet. 

Frankie admires the way your pretty pussy is shy at first - like you - as he uses soft kitten licks to loosen you up. Your juices taste heavenly, and he laps up every ounce that flows from the core of you. Eventually, you relax into his mouth and your moans become more desperate. You need more and you communicate this by pulling Frankie in even deeper, your hands tight in his hair. 

“Jesus Christ”, he groans. “Tell me what you need, baby.”

“Fingers, Frankie. I need your fingers.”, you plead, hoping he’ll take pity on you. 

And he does, by some miracle, pressing two inside you and immediately curling them up. You’re soon ready for another, and he adds a third, causing you to pout at him as your orgasm grows closer. The way you’re trying your best to ride his fingers, yet also sink further back into the bed like a pillow princess, is endearing to Frankie, as he can’t help but watch how you take him. Fuck, you’re beautiful like this. Underneath him. He needs you to come on his fingers and his tongue and he decides he can’t wait much longer.

“There you go, pretty girl. You’ve got something to clench down on. Something to cum on.”, says Frankie, and his words have your eyes rolling back. He’s got a dirty mouth and it’s doing all the right things to you.

He moves his mouth back to your clit, sucking it into his mouth. Applying the perfect amount of pressure, he’s got you whining out his name as you stretch your arms above your head, gripping the pillow you find there to anchor you - otherwise, you’re sure you’ll float away. 

It doesn’t take Frankie much longer to push you to the edge, and he gets a little rougher, much to your delight. You’re suddenly thankful for the pillow you’re grabbing onto, as his hands grip both of your ass cheeks, pulling your cunt up to his mouth and there’s nowhere for you to run. His grip is unrelenting; all you can do is lie there and take it as his tongue lashes against your clit. The absence of his fingers leaves you feeling empty, though you’re not complaining, as the way he’s clutching your hips allows him to really wreck you with his mouth. And what a mouth that man has. 

You’re writhing on the bed, your orgasm so close that your body’s going crazy; arching and stretching as it tries to hit that spot to send you over the edge. It comes as no surprise, however, that Frankie’s words finish you off.

“That’s it, baby. Know you need to cum. Need it so bad you’re whimpering for it.”

“Come on now, give it to me. I know you can. Cum and I’ll give you my fingers to ride it out on.”, he says, and you cum. Hard. 

“Frankie. Oh my god, Frankie”, you moan out like a madwoman and Frankie plunges his fingers back into your pussy as you cum all over his face. 

You can’t help but chase every wave of your high, and you push your cunt down on his fingers like you can’t get enough of what he’s giving you. Somehow, you’re able to remember what Frankie told you before, and you begin to chant “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” as you ride out your orgasm. 

There’s a cheeky smile playing on your lips and Frankie lets out his own throaty chuckle at your sass. And that’s when it hits him. 

One time isn’t enough. 

He can’t give you up just yet. 

****

The two of you soon get into a rhythm. 

You alternate between your place and his, spending most nights together each week. It’s after a few weeks of this routine that you realise: you’ve got yourself a ‘fuck buddy’ after all.

But you wouldn’t dream of telling Benny. Or Will. Or Santi. You weren’t ready to burst the bubble and face reality yet. You were perfectly happy indulging in each other’s bodies, sheltered from the pressures of the outside world. 

The sex is incredible. You know it, and Frankie most definitely knows it too.

You’ve come to know Frankie’s body so intimately, it sends a shiver down your spine just from thinking about it. You know what makes him tick. What makes him abandon his resolve and cum for you. You know how to draw particular sounds from him; his moans, his whimpers, his shouts, even. You had become a Frankie connoisseur in what seemed like no time.

Actually, it had only been a few weeks, yet things seemed to be moving at pace.

Having been friends before all this began, neither of you was inclined to kick the other person out after you were done rolling around in the sheets. So, naturally, then came the lingering. 

You both had taken to lingering a little while longer after the post-coital high faded. 

One time, you had hopped in the shower, and when you were done, you found Frankie on the phone to your local pizzeria. You hadn’t even questioned how he knew your order, putting it down to the fact you were friends before this. Still, it caused an unfamiliar feeling to stir in your chest, and some small part of you didn’t hate the gesture. 

You start showering together, too.

The first time it happened, you were still giggling over something Frankie had said. You’d riled him up and he’d taken you on, finding it way too easy to laugh with you. You’d been poking fun at him after he’d shared quite an embarrassing story from his days in service and he had decided to take a shower to escape your teasing. However, you didn’t want to let the moment go, just yet - so you followed him into the bathroom. 

He had just stepped under the spray of water when he heard your girlish giggle getting louder. Frankie tried his hardest to steel himself, but your happiness was infectious and he couldn’t help but be affected, dropping his head forward with a content smile as you wrapped your arms around him from behind. And since then, this became a frequent part of your routine. 

On several occasions, you slept over at Frankie’s place and he drove you to work the next day. 

You struggled with this. You weren’t going to lie. The thought of one of your colleagues spotting you, and the gossip that would ensue, concerned you. But you brushed it off each time.

After all, it meant that Frankie would take you home as well - and that came with its own benefits.

You’d gotten into the habit of getting him all worked up on those days he was due to pick you up, deciding it was fun to have him show up wrecked and so hard for you. Sometimes he drove a little faster, gripped your thigh a little tighter, and braked a little harder as he rushed to get the two of you to someplace private. Whilst other times he’d take to finding a discreet place to park his car. 

Yeah, those were the days you’d texted him something filthy.

You figured out quite early that you were both into dirty talk, but you weren’t expecting it to escalate in the way it did. 

An incident occurred at the Millers’ BBQ, where everyone in the neighbourhood appeared to be out in full force. Despite you and Frankie pledging to behave yourselves, you couldn’t help but sneak off upstairs when the moment presented itself. You had to remind yourself that Benny had probably done the same, if not much worse, in your own bathroom as you let Frankie sit you up on the counter; his broad frame crowding you against the mirror and your heels digging into his back. He had come to love when you’d communicate how much you needed him by sinking your stilettos into him like a vice. It was a kind of foreplay and he was very much here for it. 

It was at that moment when he said it, as he had you spread out on the counter in your friend’s bathroom, fucking you good. 

You could’ve blamed it on the slight buzz of alcohol running through his veins. Or the fact you had been fucking each other a lot. The latter was more rational, you realised, yet you didn’t want to dwell on how you two got to this point. The anxiety and regret would creep back in, and you were having way too much to let yourself ruin it by overthinking.

“Fuck…Cariño. Feels so good. You like that, huh?”, he said.

You’d mewled out a “Yeah”, knowing Frankie needed to hear the praise, needed you to use your words.

What followed then, was a veiled threat to your dynamic. “Yeah…”, he groaned out. “You like it, huh? Letting me fuck you like this tight little pussy is mine.”

Frankie loved the way you whined at that, and he was perfectly content to watch you go wild as you took his cock like a champion, but you were getting too loud, so he covered your mouth with his; swallowing your cries of pleasure.

You should’ve noticed then that things were changing between the two of you, but you were too far gone at the time to pay it the attention it needed.

However, Frankie had been paying close attention to you. Specifically, you in his t-shirts, wearing only your panties and pottering around his place like you belonged there. 

You were blissfully unaware of how much this particular sight drove him crazy, but each time you wore one, Frankie died a little inside. He was overcome with the need to possess you. To make you his girl, have everyone know you warmed his bed. 

This feeling also reared its head whenever you called him baby. 

He’d never been one to jump to conclusions and he was definitely not one to overestimate a woman’s feelings towards him. But, against all odds, and because this was you, Frankie found himself desperately clinging to the pet name. He latched onto the idea that, maybe, he was your man and there was nobody else. Of course, Frankie knew what he signed up for. But he could still imagine what it would be like if things were different. 

But, afraid it would scare you off, Frankie subdued these urges every time. He’d often shut down when it all got to be too much for him to contemplate, rushing to another room where he’d make himself look busy. Unfortunately, you interpreted his struggle as him being distant. Closed-off. Emotionally unavailable. And in your eyes, this was the reason why you couldn’t let yourself fall for this man.

Despite the doubts you harboured, neither of you was prepared to stop.

The pace at which things were evolving terrified you, if you were being honest. It was as though you were heading towards a cliff edge, but you had taken the scenic route. 

The views were breathtaking, so you went along for the ride; paying no mind to where you were going.

You hated being unable to control the situation and part of you wanted to turn it around and go back to when you were just friends. Back then, you didn’t owe him anything. You could control the version of yourself you presented to him. But in this arrangement, Frankie was able to catch you off guard, sometimes. When he looked at you like you hung the moon, you felt as though you could fall into him with no parachute - give him more. And that scared you.

Frankie was scared, too.

In fact, he’s worried.

You’re currently enjoying a night out with your girlfriends whilst he’s home alone with his anxiety. 

He knows you can handle yourself, but he’s itching to hear from you. You’re having fun and you don’t need him, but he can’t help but keep glancing at his phone, thinking of texting you. Truthfully, Frankie’s afraid he’ll fade into your background. Every second you spend without him - untethered - is a chance for you to find something better and leave him behind.

He wants to be missed. Needs you to miss him.

However, Frankie’s not prepared to get this deep in a text message to you, so he settles for something a bit lighter. 

Releasing a strained sigh, he decides to bite the bullet and so begins to type out a message.

Meanwhile, in the club, you’re nursing your third margarita of the evening when the text comes through. 

Luckily, you’d agreed to watch the booth whilst your friends went to the bar for more drinks, meaning you were able to take a quick peek at your phone, away from prying eyes. 

You hated the way you doted on his every word, yet still, you ran your eyes over the text a few more times than necessary.

Hope you’re having fun. You know there’s a space in my bed if you want to crash here later.

Slightly buzzed from the cocktails you’d had so far, you aren’t sure whether this new sensation you’re feeling is down to the alcohol, or something else entirely. 

Being your usual flirtatious self, your instinct is to tease Frankie a little.

Your bed? Benny usually lets me crash with him after a girls night. Why should it be your bed, Francisco? X

It’s true. Benny did always offer you a place to stay at the end of the night, but it wasn’t like that. Yet Frankie doesn’t need to know that Benny always takes the couch, letting you sleep like a baby in privacy. Besides, you think it’s fun to rile him up. After all, you’re not sure how far he’ll go, to earn your company tonight. 

He doesn’t respond for a while, and you’re tapping your nails against the back of your phone, thankful that the bar service is slow tonight, delaying your friends’ return.

Fuck…is what comes to mind when Frankie reads your message. He’s driven wild by the thought of you in another man’s bed, even if it’s his friend who he knows has only ever been platonic with you. He’s not proud of his jealousy, as he knows what he signed up for. But he can’t help himself - he needs to give you a reason to end the night in his bed. He needs something that will reassure him: he’s not losing you. Thinking on his feet, despite having spent a solid ten minutes figuring out what to say, he replies.

Come on, baby. You know I can give you what you need tonight. Not sure Benny’s going to cut it. 

Kicking himself as he reads over his words, he knows he needs to give you more, so he sends another.

You think I can’t see through your games, Cariño. When you wake up needy in the middle of the night, it’s my cock you’ll be coming on. 

Oh. He’s playing dirty, you realise. You grab your drink and take a generous taste, needing something to cool you down desperately. 

Is he jealous? Your mind is racing with the possibilities of what this could mean for your relationship. 

Panic swirls in your stomach, letting you know that you may be heading into uncharted territory here. And to make matters worse, a glance to your left alerts you to the fact your friends are on their way back to the table.

You intended to reply with something equally as dirty as what he’d been sending you, yet as you spot your friends getting closer, you freak out and lock your phone, hoping they’re tipsy enough to gloss over the way you’re breathing a little harsher, right now.

You couldn’t deny it, Frankie’s way with words had you feeling hot. Heat pools between your thighs as you dwell on the delicious implications of ending the night in his bed, but you remind yourself that you need to appear unaffected or else you’ll be subject to interrogation.

It didn’t work, judging by Cami’s expression, and you take a moment to prepare yourself for the questions. Yet, there’s a look of real understanding on your friend’s face, like she senses your inner turmoil and feels for you. She assumes you’re tearing yourself apart over something, or someone, and she’s not sure that a crowded club is the right place to bring it up. Deciding to buy you some time, Cami suggests you accompany her to the bathroom.

Shooting her a look of gratitude, you let her lead you into a cubicle, before she turns to face you whilst leaning back against the door. 

You stare up at her from where you’re perched on the toilet, and you know she’s waiting for you to fill her in.

After a few seconds, you succumb. 

“I think I’m in too deep. Shit, Cami. Things are changing, and I don’t know if I like it.”

She doesn’t need you to elaborate. She knows you’re referring to a guy, and from the sounds of it, she can assume it’s casual. Well, supposed to be casual. The way you’re frantically chewing on your lip suggests otherwise.

Always in your corner, yet still firm enough to call you out when it’s needed, Cami’s been by your side long enough to tell when a man’s made a serious impression on you. Deciding it’s time to be firm, she weighs in on the situation.

“Being comfortable has never been enough for you. Change can be good. I know you know that, babe.”, she tells you.

“Who is he?”

You figure there’s no point in delaying the inevitable, so you reveal that it’s “A friend of Benny and Will. Uh…Frankie, the pilot.”

It’s hard to miss the proud smirk that Cami gives you. “Well-played.”, she says, chuckling slightly. “And that’s who you were sexting whilst we were at the bar, right?”

You nod, feeling less overwhelmed after opening up to her.

“Are you planning on showing me, then? I can’t help you blow his mind if you don’t let me see the texts.”, she adds smugly. Instantly putting you at ease.

You don’t need to ask her how she knew you were sexting Frankie, you’re just grateful that she’s a girls’ girl through and through, and you welcome her expertise in the matter. 

Cami’s about to suggest that you send him a flirty picture, with an even flirtier caption, until you scroll further down the conversation and you notice two new messages from the man in question.

It turns out that whilst you were stewing over your lover’s salacious messages, Frankie had gone through the motions, ten times over. He thought he’d pushed you too far. Pushed you away with his jealousy. 

He let himself simmer in his frustration before concluding that your lack of a response signified rejection. Frankie knew he’d shown his hand too soon. He’d fallen at your feet like all the other men, acting like a golden retriever in the way he fought for your attention. 

But still, your rejection hurt. It hurt enough for him to become defensive, trying to regain some of the control he’d forfeited to you. He shouldn’t have said what he said, but he let his emotions get the better of him.

You can’t quite believe what you’re reading, and even Cami appears to be shocked at the words staring back at you.

I get it. You don’t owe me anything, huh?  

And after he hadn’t heard from you for fifteen minutes, he sent another text.

You should stay at Benny’s tonight. Wherever you choose to go, I’m sure you’ve got plenty of options. 

All you see is red. All you feel is the unmistakable tinge of betrayal. You hadn’t expected Frankie to jump to conclusions, and you definitely hadn’t expected your Frankie - who was always so sweet and respectful - to degrade you like this. 

Some part of your brain is able to register Cami’s words and you hear her cursing Frankie with some very colourful language. You’re left feeling blindsided, unable to process his sudden resentment towards you, but nonetheless, you can’t allow yourself to get hung up on it, not when you were surrounded by such remarkable friends. 

You switch your phone off, determined to salvage the rest of your night, before letting Cami drag you to the dancefloor for some much needed release.

It’s no surprise, then, when Frankie’s 3 am apology text fails to come through.

****

Frankie becomes an expert at jumping to conclusions when it comes to you.

After you didn’t reply to his apology, and subsequently screened all of his calls, Frankie didn’t know what else he could do. 

He couldn’t reach you and you hadn’t made an effort to contact him. Hell, he knew he’d fucked up; he shouldn’t have spoken to you in the way he did, but he’d tried to make amends and yet you didn’t seem willing to hear him out.

Frankie doesn’t see you for a while. Eight days, to be exact. 

He knows you’re alright, thank god, as he hears from Will that you’d been offered a promotion at work and that he’d taken you out to dinner to celebrate.

And yet, it doesn’t get easier, he comes to accept, and he finds himself wanting to call you on multiple occasions, and he almost does, but something always stops him in his tracks.

Unable to stop replaying your words over in his head, Frankie’s overthought and overanalysed until the point of exhaustion. You were both to blame, considering neither of you had been willing to speak about your relationship. Expectations, boundaries and outcomes had all been forgotten. You’d gotten swept up in the pleasure and failed to address these crucial concerns, and now you were both reaping what you had sewed. 

It was supposed to be casual. It was supposed to be just sex. 

That’s what Frankie told himself when Benny revealed that he had set him up on a blind date with a mutual friend. 

Neither of you had told Benny, or Will and Santi for that matter, about the two of you and Frankie couldn’t have declined the invitation without arousing suspicion from the youngest of the group. He didn’t know where he stood with you, but he wasn’t going to drop you in it with the boys. He was way too protective of you to let that happen.

So, begrudgingly, Frankie agreed to the date.

The first you heard of the date was through Instagram, and Frankie and Imelda were well into their second drink of the evening by the time you’d found out. 

Turns out, Benny had crashed it around forty-five minutes in, having gotten a text from his friend revealing he wasn’t ‘feeling it’. Taking his wingman duties seriously, Benny wasn’t prepared to let Frankie give in just yet, so had shown up in an attempt to encourage him, and to salvage what was left of the night. Benny had brought a girl friend - whom you both had met whilst at college - hoping the double date vibes would put Frankie at ease, and as she had taken to posting on her story, you were able to poke your nose in.

It wasn’t spying, and you weren’t jealous. But when Stacey posted a picture of the group, you couldn’t help but fixate on the way Frankie had his arm around his date, leaning into her ear, and it looked as though she’d caught them during an intimate moment.

Due to the angle at which the photo had been taken, you couldn’t tell whether Frankie’s lips were just hovering over her ear, or whether they were pressed tight against her skin. His baseball cap cleverly hid the majority of his face from view, but you couldn’t deny what was plain to see. And it drove you mad. Though, you knew your anger wasn’t justified.

Preparing for the worst, you conclude that Frankie’s ready to move on from you. 

You wish you could put your phone aside and let it be. You wish you didn’t care. You wish that the thought of Frankie touching another woman didn’t make you want to die, and you wish you could stop yourself from doing what you were planning to do next.

There’s a fire in your eyes and you realise that, perhaps, you are jealous, though you don’t waste time dwelling on it. If you were going to keep Frankie’s interest, you needed to do something that would throw him off balance and you needed to do it soon. And you knew just what would do the trick. 

You practically run to the bedroom, pulling out one of Frankie’s old army t-shirts that you’d snagged from his place. Getting comfy on your bed, you slip the shirt up your skin until it exposes enough skin to drive your man wild. There was no doubt about it. Frankie adored your breasts, and he also adored the way you loved to tease. You are hoping that this sexy little underboob shot would make him forget all about his date. No disrespect to her, as any woman would be crazy to turn down a date with Francisco Morales, and you feel bad - honestly, you really do. But the anxiety in your chest is pulling you towards the action. Your body’s screaming at you to do something, like it senses that it’s about to lose Frankie’s touch, for good.

You angle your phone just right, so the camera focuses on the way your breasts peek out from under his t-shirt. Whilst you make sure to get your face in the shot, too, as you draw your bottom lip between your teeth and widen your eyes; looking all cute and innocent as you look up at the camera positioned above you. You know you’re anything but innocent right now, but you’re anticipating that Frankie will play right into your trap. As you have it on good authority that the man loves how you play coy, only to whine pathetically when he finally stretches you out with his cock. And by good authority, you’re referring to the way he grips your hips like your body gives him oxygen, or the way his big hands cup the back of your neck, fingers skimming over the side of your throat in a way that says, you’re staying right where I’ve got you. 

Throwing caution to the wind, you press send on the photo and you make sure to add a fitting caption. 

Your girl’s feeling a little lonely. Lucky she’s got your shirt to play in. Would be a shame for you to miss out, tonight. x

And you’ve got him. 

Hook, line and sinker; Frankie’s ready to come crawling back to you like a dog.

When he sees your name light up on his phone, notifying him that you’d sent him a photo, he needs to get somewhere private. And fast. 

He gives Imelda, as well as the other couple, some lame excuse about needing to get his jacket from the truck - just in case they decide to go somewhere with outdoor seating later on - and before he even reaches for his keys, he’s got his phone out ready. Somehow, he manages to hold off on opening your message, wanting to give you his full attention from the comfort of his driver’s seat. And he’s glad he did, as he pulls up the text and is greeted with what could only be described as a treat. Your eyes. Those lips. Your tits in… wait. Is that his shirt? Fuck, he doesn’t know where to look. His eyes rapidly move from each focal point in a frenzy to soak up everything you’d given him. You’d bestowed upon him a gift, and he needed to treasure it. Besides, he hadn’t heard from you in a while and he didn’t know if he’d ever be able to touch you, or even look at you, in this way again. 

And then, he casts his eyes down to the text that follows.

Your girl’s feeling a little lonely. Lucky she’s got your shirt to play in. Would be a shame for you to miss out, tonight. x

He takes a minute to process your words, but he’s unable to move past your girl and your shirt. Did you want him dead? Surely, that was your goal in pushing those exact buttons of his. You’d seen his possessiveness, and until now, Frankie was certain it had pushed you away; overwhelmed you. Were you now encouraging it?

Not wanting to miss his chance, Frankie recomposes himself, just enough for him to be able to send a semi-coherent reply. He also texted Benny, asking him to apologise to Imelda on his behalf and tell her he had to head home, as he wasn’t feeling well. Home wasn’t on the cards tonight, however, as he geared up to head to your place. 

Don’t play too hard without me, baby. On my way over now.

Somewhere on the drive over to yours, Frankie finds himself able to reflect on your relationship. 

Relationship. That word felt foreign on his tongue, but he didn’t hate it, he realised, as he allowed himself to fantasise about a version of you two where you dated, held hands, and openly expressed your affection in front of your friends. 

You’d never given him any indication that you wanted more. Until tonight. 

Frankie’s aware that you’ve given him a crumb, and he’s already dreaming about the whole damn thing, but he can’t help himself from pushing forward.

His attraction, and his appreciation for you had grown, and he often found himself doting on the way you held your coffee in the morning like it was precious cargo, just as much as he doted on the way you went all cock-dumb in his bed after he’d worn you out for hours and hours. He’d begun to notice the little things that made you, you. And he knew he could fall in love with you. It would be so easy. 

Frankie considers how he’s probably ruined it for himself, already. He spoke to you in a derogatory way, that night you were out with the girls, and you’d somehow found out he’d been on a date with another woman. He knows that, on paper, the date isn’t something he should feel guilty for, as you two weren’t exclusive. But you were still involved and he has to admit he hasn't handled things in the best way. 

As he turns onto your street, he concludes that he wants you.

Frankie wants to be with you, and he’s willing to have you in whatever capacity you’re prepared to offer him. If you’re not ready. If you can’t give him what he needs, like the self-sabotaging martyr, he’s willing to take whatever he can get if it means he doesn’t have to give this feeling up. 

Then he’s at your door, trying his hardest to stop the tapping of his foot, which would surely give him away.

You appear from behind it, and he’s a fool not to notice the tears staining your cheeks as he makes his way past you. 

He bounds on you, the force of his kisses backing you up against the kitchen counter. And there are so many words on the tip of your tongue, but you haven’t seen this man in over a week and it’s so easy to fall back in again. 

After he’s somewhat satisfied that you’re real, and you’re here in his arms, he pulls back to address you with a needy tone of voice. One that was unfamiliar to both of you. 

“What was that, huh?” he demands. Looking anywhere but at your face, it’s no surprise that he misses the anguish that clouds your usual playful expression.

After a beat of silence, he pushes again.

“You couldn’t let me try to get over you.”, says Frankie, and this time, you notice the pain in his voice.

It’s like you’re frozen. Paralysed by the weight of everything that’s gone unsaid between you. 

Silence follows. It’s the kind of quiet before a storm, and neither of you knows what to do to protect yourselves. 

He’s holding onto your hips like they’re his altar, and he’s staring down at your body like it will lead him to enlightenment; give him the answers he needs. 

When he moves his gaze back to your face, that’s when he sees the absence of light in your eyes. You look troubled. Uncertain. And Frankie’s kicking himself for not noticing the tears that are streaking your soft skin earlier. What had happened between sending him the photo and now?

Cupping your face with a tenderness unlike the way he had just kissed you so roughly, Frankie’s at a loss for what to do. He just knows he wants to soothe the pain; your pain and his, and make it all better. 

Your silence feels like another dose of rejection, so Frankie takes a step back from you.

He’s amazed at his own courage, as he finds himself needing to communicate what he needs, right now. 

“You know what I want.”, he says.

The look in your eyes tells him you were expecting this conversation. And it crushes him, because he needs you to fight for him. But you won’t. He can see that much from your pained expression and the way your body is curling in on itself. You’re retreating.

And you are retreating. You want so badly to run to him; to hold him in your arms and promise that you’ll try, you’ll give him what he needs. 

You know you could love him right. Some mature part of you wants you to acknowledge that you are falling for him, and have been since the first night. But you’re confused, driven by heightened, raw emotion and you haven’t taken the time to process what you’re feeling for him.

His rejection still stings you, and you struggle to bounce back when you’ve been hurt. You know the adult thing to do is to talk about it - patch things up and move past it. But you’re a creature of habit and what you actually did was stew in your irrational anger, before closing yourself off to him. He’d tried to reach out and you’d crawled deeper into your pit of self-sabotage. Yeah, it wasn’t healthy and perhaps Frankie was better off without the hurt you’d most likely cause him if you gave this thing a chance to grow into something more.

A lot of self-work needed to happen before you’d be ready to let him in; let him sink deeper underneath your skin. 

So you stayed put, whilst your words failed you. 

Frankie’s eyes are raking over you so intensely, awaiting your next move, and all you can do is look anywhere but at him. 

The tension in your body has been stretched too far, and so it snaps. And you’re sure that both of you can hear the way the energy in the room shifts just like that. 

“Francisco… I -”, is all that you manage.

And Frankie feels as though he can read your mind. 

What you meant to say, he thinks, was I can’t give you what you want. 

And he gives you a moment to finish your admission. But nothing comes.

Wanting to be anywhere but here - facing your rejection, again, Frankie pivots towards the front door, ready to leave. 

“I shouldn’t have come here.”, he says.

Then as he darts towards the exit, you call out his name, and his movements still completely.

You continue. “I - … “, before releasing a sigh. 

“Frankie”, you whine, though it’s not like he’s used to hearing. It’s a broken whine, telling him all he needs to know.

You’re not ready.

“Tell me to stay. Tell me you want me.”, he pleads. 

And you think it’s kinder to let him go now. As it’s only a matter of time before you break his heart anyway. 

This arrangement was supposed to be casual. It wasn’t supposed to evolve this way, but you had both fallen in a little too deep, with too little communication. 

Fuck, he’s a good guy. Why won’t you let yourself have this? Have him? 

By now, your delicate tears have given way to distressed sobs, and you need him to walk away from you, so you can let it all out. 

After what feels like an age, Frankie leaves. He realises that he’s powerless. He’d handed over all of his control, to you, and you now held the advantage. 

As you watch the door close behind him, you release the hand that’s covering your mouth and unleash your heartache. 

****

It’s not a secret that you miss him.

Your body feels the loss, as you regress into the shell of your hurt. 

You can’t eat or sleep for the first few days, and when your appetite returns, you’re too anxious to make a run for some groceries. You’d called in sick to work, and that should’ve been a sign that Frankie meant more to you than a ‘fuck buddy’. 

You were grieving him. And as cliché as it sounds, you didn’t know what you had until it was gone. Or more so, you didn’t know that you wanted more until you had nothing.

The days that followed that fateful night in your kitchen were filled with longing. You yearned for the comfort of his body: the softness of his hair underneath your fingers, the sound of his voice over the phone, the way he held you like his favourite memory. You couldn’t bring yourself to wash his clothes that appeared in your laundry; you weren’t ready to erase his scent. It was somehow calm and untamed at the same time. Like Frankie.

You also missed the way he made you feel so needed when he’d beg for your touch.

But physical touch aside, you missed his mind, too.

You found yourself wanting to bask in his dark humour; the way he was often quiet and observant in social situations, only to cut in with something downright philosophical when it counted. Truthfully, you thought a lot about the way he’d listen, hands on his hips and mouth slightly ajar, looking like he was sizing you up, though you knew he held nothing but empathy and respect for those he cared about. 

It was down to you now. You needed to be the one to show up, for him. You needed to reach out to him, tell him what he means to you, but you were worried you’d missed your chance. That night in your kitchen couldn’t have been more poetic; he’d come running to you and it would’ve been perfect had you crashed into him with open arms and an open mind. But you didn’t. And that left you playing out scenarios in your head, thinking of all the ways you could confess the depth of your affection to your lover. 

What would he say? 

Would he take you in his arms and vow to forget the past? 

Would he be forgiving? Or would he be guarded, detached?

You imagined the latter was more likely, though you had come to accept that you were the one responsible for the limbo you were both existing in.

And of all the ways you’d imagined seeing Frankie again, you never expected it to be in the grocery store; dressed for comfort and definitely not to impress. 

He’s got a six-pack of beers in his hand as you let your eyes soak him up. He looks good, but also exhausted, and although your heart aches at the thought of him struggling, the needy part of you latches onto it as evidence of him missing you.

Frankie had once revealed that he loved sharing a bottle of wine with a woman, as he enjoyed getting comfortable enough with a partner to share the pleasant buzz it gave. And that was something you had delighted in, too, before taking it for granted. Though as you glanced back down at the beers he was holding, you were so thankful for his choice of beverage, as it signified there wasn’t someone waiting on him tonight.  

You found yourself wanting to be the one waiting on him. Being the one he came home to every night, and the thought sent a gentle thrill through your body.

So you held on tighter to your tub of ice-cream, channeling your trepidation into the object in question as it gave your hands something to do and slightly quelled the urge to reach out and touch Frankie. 

As you pluck up just enough courage to walk over to him, he reaches for a bag of chips, and you believe he's blissfully unaware of the baggage you’re bringing him. 

The distance between you is not enough, as you know you’re only a few steps away from having to confront this thing. Tail between your legs, you slowly move closer to him. 

Of course, as an ex-veteran, Frankie had clocked you before you even considered approaching him. He’s grateful for this, though, as it gave him a sliver of time to compose himself before you had eyes on his weary form. However, he can’t help but think the way you’re slinking towards him, in an attempt to appear discreet, is cute. Despite how much he wishes he could refrain from becoming even more infatuated with you.

Arguably, the anxiety in his stomach tells Frankie he’s not ready to face you. Though he doubts he could ever feel completely ready. So, at the moment when you become too close to ignore, he lifts his head, knowing his time’s up.

Words aren’t exchanged for a while. Rather, you’re preoccupied with assessing each other; devouring with your eyes what you’ve been deprived of for over a week. 

Frankie knows he can’t be the one to break the silence. It has to be you, and if he gives you this, he’ll never know whether you mean to fight for him. He needs to see you step outside your comfort zone and give him the words you’ve held hostage.

And you do, after a poignant pause. 

“Hi, uh - … you look…good, Frankie.” is all you manage to say. You find a little more confidence as you go on, and the way you breathe out his name with poise gives Frankie hope for what’s to come. 

He doesn’t think it’s the right time for him to speak, though, and he doesn’t want to spook you should you be preparing to speak candidly. So, he doesn’t say anything.

You gesture towards the beers and chips in his basket, “Oh, are you seeing the boys tonight?”

Frankie puts the basket down, then, and folds his arms over his chest. He gives you a quick shake of the head, before telling you “No.” 

He’s trying to appear unbothered, but the way his laboured breaths are visible through his chest tells you otherwise.

You’re fighting the instinct to run but you somehow manage to continue.

“I’m sorry that I hurt you.”, you admit, and then you tell him, “I’ve been thinking about everything. About you. A lot.”

Frankie can’t help himself, and he jumps in, craving your honest disclosure. 

“What do you want. Really?”, he says, and he looks so tired - exhausted by your indecision, and it makes you loathe how avoidant you’ve been with him.

Oh, you think. We’re getting to this now.

“I- I’m not used to… used to letting someone in. Y-You-” and Frankie cuts you off.

“Cariño.”, he says sternly. “I need an answer.”, and he’s begging you.

“Francisco!”, you whine petulantly. And if he couldn’t see the pained expression on your face, he’d be offended. You’re conflicted, and he wants to believe that you’re trying. 

“You want me to tell you how I feel, then listen.”, you assert, before adding a softer “Please”, as you look at him like he could break your heart with any sudden moves.

“Frankie… y-you saw me, like actually took the time to learn it all. I couldn’t hide. I thought you’d find something that would make you leave me alone, and I wasn’t prepared to l-lose it.”

He leans closer, ever so slightly and it’s the encouragement you need to continue.

“Didn’t want to lose you, Frankie. You’re a good man. A man I could love, and… and I was happy but I was afraid it couldn’t last. S-so I kept going back and forth, daring you to stay. Seeing if you’d give up.”, you say, and the last five words come out sounding more uncertain than the rest.

Meanwhile, Frankie’s processing. He inhales every word out of your mouth like he’s gasping for breath. He’s needed to hear this - hear you - and it feels long overdue.

Your strength doesn’t fade, as you continue.

“I don’t know if I deserve you.”, you confess softly, before revealing, “You could be better off with someone else.”, and you can’t look him in the eye as you share such a deep-rooted insecurity with the man you’d come to adore.

It’s genuine, everything you’re saying, and Frankie sees that you’re trying, for him. He’s finding it hard not to say fuck mature communication and comfort you, knowing you could do with some physical touch to ground you. He wants to kiss you until all your worries dissipate, hating the thought that you could ever underestimate yourself in this way. If only you saw what Frankie saw when he looked at you, you’d be walking on air.

But he knows he needs to tread carefully. You’re giving him an inch, and he wants a mile, but he knows you. Knows the vulnerability you’re slowly welcoming is a lot for you, right now, and he’s appreciative regardless.

Then, you go and throw him a curveball. 

Taking a risk, you move in even closer, until your feet are practically covering his, and you’re looking up at him with an innocence and vulnerability in your eyes that you reserve for him, only.

And your voice wobbles as you say, “Shit, Frankie. I need you.”

He looks down at you and you appear so small and fragile beneath his gaze. There’s no trace of your usual playfulness or moxie on your expression. And in your voice, there’s no trace of the pretence you sometimes hide behind when forced to confront your emotions. And Frankie registers that you must really mean it this time.

He needs to believe that you mean it. That you really need him, as the alternative is something he’s not prepared to brave.

Arguably, you’ve put yourself out there this time, and Frankie would be lying if he said he wasn’t concerned about you reverting back to reticence, should he give you another chance. Who’s to say you’ll maintain this level of communication with him? He can’t go through this again if you aren’t truly invested in moving forward.

“Fuck, I never thought we’d be stood in a grocery store having this conversation.”, you add to ease the tension, and the way Frankie lets out a breathy chuckle tells you he’s just as grateful for the relief from the heaviness.

After a moment of intense deliberation, Frankie arrives at his choice.

He understands that acknowledgement is only the start, and he needs to see that you’re willing to commit to something more, whatever that may be.

But right there on the confectionery aisle, as the artificial lighting of the store illuminates every emotion on your face - and he sees the fear, the concern, and the tenderness that gives you away, Frankie decides that he needs you. 

And, like an addict, he swears to have you in whatever capacity he can get.

You can’t read him, and you’re on edge awaiting his response.

Then with a newfound sense of ease, Frankie picks up the six-pack from the basket beside you, as you watch his every move; afraid you’ll miss something. 

He gestures to the beers, before the slightest hint of a smirk greets you from beneath his baseball cap.

“How about we swap these for some of that wine you like? Then we can head back to my place. Talk some more.” he says.

And he knows those last three words could scare you off. 

Yet as you take his hand, pulling him over to the aisle you need, Frankie feels hopeful. 

It’s a kind of hope that simultaneously scares and excites him, and right now, he’s okay with that.

Thank you for reading! Please consider commenting, liking or reblogging if you enjoyed it. <3

[frogshipping]

☆Sam☆She/They☆Bi☆20's☆

Before You Follow + DNI List

Hi, I'm Sam! I'm just a small time Frog chillin' on my little blog. You can call me that too if you'd like. I'm new to the community, but have been a selfshipper for many years. My main fictional other is Son Goku from dbz! There may be others who make their way into my heart, but he will always be my #1 ♡

Here's a list of all my current f/o's!!

Here's info/lore about my main s/i (it's long, sorry ><). Have her pinterest board and outfit board while we're at it, too!

I love sharing my beloveds! If you're not comfortable with it, though, feel free to block me! Proshippers please stay away! I don't want any drama. We're all here to have fun <3

If I reblog something of yours, and you're not comfortable with it being tagged as/used for self ship stuff, let me know and I'll delete it!

Some info about me: I curse a lot. I really love ×reader fanfics, and seeing people's selfship art. I will reblog this sort of thing often! There will also be some nsfw or suggestive posts, although rare. I enjoy writing and drawing, though I write more than anything. I like to write imagines, fics, and posts related to my selfships (like my "How They Got Together" series for example). When I draw it's mainly Goku, my inserts, or both (on this blog at least). I refer to my followers as friends, guys, dudes, bros, besties, buddies, and lovelies in the most gender neutral way possible.

I'd love to chat and interact with the community, so please send me asks, prompts, requests, etc! Mutuals DM me if you want to be friends! If you ship with the same f/o's or from any of the same medias, hmu! Let's go crazy over our blorbos together ♡. My main is @vitiateoriginator!

Frequently used tags under the cut (will be updated when I think of more to add. I can tag things upon request)

#ribbits- for when I make an original post

#frog mail- tag used for asks/submissions

#frog doodles- my art tag

#tadpole typewriter- my writing tag

#gifts from the pond- given to posts that feature art/writing/gifts/whatever I make for other people

#gifts for the frog- put on posts that feature gifts/things made for me

#how they got together- a series of posts that each summarize how my s/i('s) become romantically involved or friends with my f/o's

#crush tag- for characters I like without their own unique tag, that are are not officially an f/o yet

#Viti stuff- posts related to my main self insert's experiences, thoughts, aesthetics, and personality

#Pumki patch- posts related to my saiyan s/i, Pumki

#Otterly nonsense- posts related to my spongebob s/i, Sadie

#Jellyfrog- posts related to my animal crossing s/i, Jelly

#Alice attack- posts related to my amazing world of gumball s/i, Alice

#Red panda rascal- posts about my aggretsuko s/i, Tomomi

#Author's way- posts related to my don't starve oc, Wayward

#Plant heir- posts related to my homestuck oc, Erin

#Spars and Stars- shipping tag for Viti and Goku (this will be the most frequently used ship tag)

#Ignite the Storm- for shipping with Katsuki

#Gales of Serenity- for shipping with Sucrose

#Pokéology- for shipping with Sonia

#Fake it til we make- for shipping with Reigan

#Of Breath and Blood- for shipping with Karkat

#Whipped cream frosting- for shipping with Jane

#Red panda duet- for shipping with Retsuko

#Experimentation of the Heart- for shipping with Wilson

#Glacier Snowstorm- for shipping with Shenhe

#Uncharted Skies- for shipping with Turles

#Cat Scratch Chaos- for shipping with Nicole

#Neighbor Next Door- for shipping with Renée

#Breeze on the Sea- friendship tag for Spongebob

#Breath Bros- friendship tag for John

#Queens of the Universe- friendship tag for Bulma

#Carrot cake 🥕- Goku's tag

#Kats 💥- Katsuki's tag

#Dandelion 🧪- Sucrose's tag

#Sonny 🌺- Sonia's tag

#Babygirl 🔮- Reigen's tag

#Crabbynubs 🦀- Karkat's tag

#Sugarpie 🎂- Jane's tag

#Rockstar 🎤- Retsuko's tag

#Gentleman 🥼- Wilson's tag

#Goddess ❄- Shenhe's tag

#Mew mew 😾- Nicole's tag

#Space Pirate 🥬- Turles tag

#Butch rhino 🦏-Renée's tag

#Spongey 🧽- Spongebob's tag

#Windy buddy 🌀- Jonh's tag

#Queen 🔧- Bulma's tag

[partywithoutsmiling]

Some musing on the Wanderer!Branch AU

(Okay, bit of a chaotic lore dump incoming, as this is probably the first time I am putting it to words)

Okay, important info first:

I headcanon it that Branch- and thus the other Brozone bros- are half-pop half-rock in their herritage; this headcanon is an old one, ever since World Tour dropped, and honestly only supported by the fact that Total Eclipse of the Heart that Branch sung as trolling is considered a Pop Rock song XD But hey, one doesnt need to have many reasons to make headcanons pff

(I have some tentative lore about his parents- and his grandparents- too, and how that would effect Branch and his Bros growing up, but I will leave that for a separated post)

But anyway, with Branch's Pop side being moderated by his Rock side, he would have always felt a bit out of place among his tribe, even he grew up perfectly happy with no tragedy in his life (I know switching Branch's and Poppy's place when it comes to being grey is all the rage right now, but I still feel most are missing all the necessary nuance to really make it work, but lets not get into that pf)

Obviously, that feeling of not fitting it only got hundred fold worse since his PTSD and him being grey, as Pop Trolls doesn't seem to be known for mental health support. Branch eventually leaving is not him going 'Screw you all, I will find someone who appreciates me' (much like Clay did) but more of a 'I am sorry, I won't get in your way anymore, I wont be a burden'

Basically massive amount of self-loathing and severe lack of self-worth. When Branch had his final breakdown and decided to leave, I don't think it would be with the precise goal of finding anyone (yes, part of him hopes he would be able to find his brothers and at least find closure one way or another, no matter how much it terrifies him).

Honestly, Branch probably didn't dare to examine his decision to leave any closely than he needed to, lest it would stand out to him for what it really was- a suicide trip.

This was Branch that doesnt know anything about the wide, outside world; he knows Bergen Town, knows of the old Troll Tree, and now knows the Forest and their Troll Village. But everything else is uncharted territory for him. He knows of the Neverglades, because of a faint memory of John Dory constantly talking about them when he was a baby, but has only a vague sense which way they are (I headcanon they make up for the border of Pop and Rock territories)

His preparation for the trip was abysmal, and so was his plan in general. He just picked a direction- opposite of Bergen Town, away from them- and started walking. When he first encountered the towering high peaks of Classical Territory, he immediatelly recognized that they can't be the Neverglades- very much not fitting the description that he remembered, so he walked past/around them, smack dab into Country territory.

Compared to others, I don't think the Country Trolls would have been very welcoming to him at the beginning; used to hard life, inhospitable land and abundant death, Branch would be an unexpected disturbance; obviously not a Classical Troll, who borders with them the closest but never comes down from the skies, obviously not a Funk Troll, who with their technological advance might as well be myths at this point- and obviously not a Pop Troll, since he doesnt shower them with obnoxious music and doesnt even look the part.

Had he been at his 100%, they would have probably been quite content to send him packing, figuring he was just a Rock Troll going solo career (little insert headcanon: Rock Troll Rite of Passage is going on a Rock Tour, and sometimes the more adventurous Rock Trolls strays into other territories to bother and cause mayhem other trolls. Barb's Rock Tour was her Rite of Passage, and being a freshly fanged Queen, she took it to another level)

But Branch quite helpfully collapsed on their doorstep, half starving and dehydrated, and they weren't so callous as to leave him there for the elements to take care of him.

Naturally, their help hardly came for free, and even if they didn't ask, Branch would have already feel indebted to them for wasting resources on his wellbeing. A Survivalist himself, he easily spotted the tight budget they were running, and felt guilty for being a burden yet again.

To his surprise, when the country trolls found out he was a hard worker, a skilled architect and wiz engineer, they completely turned their wariness around.

It was the start of his 'finding himself' journey, but for the first time, Branch started to feel... appreciated. Yes, these trolls didn't know him- but they looked at him, looked at what he can do, and called him accomplished; they were praising his skills, and called him valuable.

(But some sense of danger remained with him; as far as he believed, 'Branch' was left behind to rot away in his bunker. So when introducing himself, and habit got better of him, he started with "Bra-" but caught himself and finished "-mble"; and that new name, 'Bramble', stuck XD Still a plant name, still close enough that he can learn to repond to it- and honestly, feels like fits him better right now, as he feel all out of sorts)

It was only the first step, maybe, but it was a step toward feeling that he had some worth.

I think, out of all the Tribes, he stays with the Country trolls for the longest; yes, the life there is hard, but that is perhaps why he feels most welcomed there. There are no useless nonsense parties, no senseless dancing- the times when they can finaly wipe their brow and relax is when the community gathers together and they just... talk. Sit around, share food, look at the stars and reminiscence.

It's all very subdued, and even though Branch is the most obvious outsider ever, he feels like one with the community, and that by itself is already healing a deep wound he didnt know he had.

When the country trolls finally start singing on their good day, Branch is rather taken aback (He forgot, that Trolls are Trolls, and Trolls sing)- but the sombre and slow melody and topic of the country speaks to him, and while he doesnt join- and they dont push him to join- he listens, and he appreicates.

It is with Country Trolls that he heals most of his trauma when it comes to music. His Grandma and his Brothers leaving him are still a big guilt that weights him down- and something he wont address for a long time- but Country trolls shows him that music can be wildly different. He still doesnt sing, but when offered to be taught to play a banjo (XD), he probably doesnt refuse- mainly out of fear of insult, but also because for the first time in his life, he wants to actually try.

As time passes, his more curious side comes out- he asks questions, wants to know everything- up to this point, he didn't even know that the Country trolls were country- and to them it was obvious what they were, so why would they need to introduce themselves?

That line of questioning leads to the explanation of the other Tribes existing, and that each Tribes' music is different.

And for the first time in his life, Branch felt something alien to him- burning Wanderlust. (Bit of his Rock herritage showing, eh? Solo Rock tour, Rite of Passage~?) The thirst for knowledge was always there- after all, his bunker had many journals filled to brim with information about what he discovered in the foods, helpful tips for survival and many plans for inventions- but those were always done out of necessity, discovered and noted down so that he could live another say. Never before he had a desire to discover simply for the sake of discovering.

Never before he also actually felt like he had the option to do so; the world has always been an inhospitable wilderness to him, only filled with a small handful of trolls and a town full of monstrous giants. His childhood was filled with memory of a large iron cage, and that trapped feeling didn't change; after all, his Bunker, for all that it offered him safety, was a different type of cage too. The whole Troll Village- Pop Village, as he learned now- was another cage as well. Gilded one, made of ignorance.

And so he knew his time with the country trolls came to an end- and it was because he grew to respect them and appreciate them, that he doesnt disappear in the nigh and haltingly tells them his decision to leave and explore.

Memories of his Brothers' argument echo through his mind as he waits for the inevitable blow up, but.... he is once again surprised when the trolls just accepts this decision and wish him all the best- going as far as to help him pack- properly this time- and wheedling out of him a promise to check in once in a while, whenever he is in the neighbourhood.

Equipped with a non outdated map, he decides to make visit all the other territories one by one, starting from Country and heading right towards Classical, going around in one large circle around Pop Territory- Going to Techno after Classical, and to Rock right after that. Funk is largely a mystery to him- the Country trolls are at this point content to believe they are just a myth- much the same way a unicorn is to us- but Branch wants to keep an open mind.

After all, he himself had no idea other kind of trolls existed, so why dismiss the Funk Troll existence right away?

His travels to Symphonyville proved to be as challenging as was the start of his trip towards Country territory. Being high in the mountains- higher than anywhere Branch ever went- really showed him that walking is easy only when the road is straight and flat.

The air growing colder and thinning, he probably doesn't make the best first impression neither- especially in his dishevelled state, he is once more mistaken for a Rock Troll, and it takes a gargantuan amount of effort to convince anyone that he is simply there to learn music, and not cause any trouble.

Out of all the Tribes, he would stay with the Classical trolls the shortest. They are strict teachers, and their culture is very frigid and traditional- and Branch knows that he would have to wildly change himself to fit among them. Yet looking around, seeing the tall spires of the buildings around him, he finds he doesn't really want to. The grandiose of everything is rather intimidating- but even if he tried his best, he would never fit well among the classical trolls, always limited by something (like his ability to fly)

And realizes that was okay. That was acceptable. And that the classical trolls knew he wasn't a good fit now, and would hardly ever be a good fit ever- but they never expected him to become someone he is not. He asked them to teach him and so teach him they will- but you cant force a white sheep to grow black wool anymore that you can force a black sheep grow white.

The moment they realize Branch is there to learn and not wreck their peace like wandering Rock Trolls tend to do, they definitelly warm up to him more- but it still with the mildest of disapprovals since compared to them, Branch looks like a scrunkly kitten and all of them are just itching to groom him properly XD

Branch himself is amazed at the variety of musical instruments that exists and very quickly finds that he is not a progidy in plaing them all pff. Wind musical instruments are most likely completely beyond him, and after some attempts gives them up for a lost cause. Percussion fairs a bit better; he definitelly has some idea how to keep a beat and a rhythm, but even there he finds playing piano the most comfortable out of them all, with drums being a close second.

It is with string instruments that he trully shines, especially those that he can play with his own hands, without the need to use a pick or a bow; a tentative hint at his connection to music, the vibrations just send shivers down his spine and makes him feel more close to the sound his playing produces. (Guitar and Harp becoming his favourite instruments from the get go).

Getting to Techno was trickier. Them living underwater makes access to their territory rather impossible- unless Branch happens to meet someone willing to cross then bridge between Land and Sea XD

It makes for a rather convenient introduction for minor genres; the land bordering Classical and Rock seems to be as the perfect land for various minor tribes to cohabit in peace.

Are there Techno Opera trolls? Siren like beings, that found their homes on the deck of boats, sailing from and to an island after island? Techno Classical that built their living on the coast line, wanting to be close to both land and sea?

In any case, Branch discovers that even with music it's not so simple as shelving it into labels, and that it is ever growing, ever evolving. He never manages to actually visit Techno Reef, but he doesnt' need to; compared to other trolls, the Techno Trolls are not insular, and quite happily come to the surface or to the coast, both to vibe with the offshoots of their genre, to discover what they came up with, but also to simply make friends and have fun.

It was the first time Branch encountered a large party not unsimilar to that of a Pop Troll one- and yet for all that the party was just as loud and wild as he was used to seeing, the sight of it didnt really fill him with uncontrollable panic. It definitelly helped it was once again more about the music and the beat itself, and about the mood of the partygoers than it was about the singing; it was about experimentation and trying out new things- and yet not every troll was dancing around like maniacs. They had the stage for sure, and large crowd was gathering there- but there were also the fringe areas and corners, where Trolls just sat and chatted and bopped to the beat. Not forced to do anything they didn't want to, simply allowed to have fun in their own way.

He doesnt really interacts with the Techno Trolls that much, beyond when there is a party happening on the surface. Gravitates more towards exploring the Minor Territory, and discovering that it holds more than just Techno Classical/Opera. Not wanting to stray too close to the border with Pop, he nevertheless encounters encounters various offshoots of Pop as well- and the K-Pop gang as well

This definitelly allows him to learnt that even the Trolls Kingdom are not free of corruption and the bounty hunters are not starving for contracts- crime does happen in the troll kingdoms, and when the local police force comes short, the bounty hunters are the next best thing to employ.

Speaking with the K-Pop gang, he learns- with a bit of unease- that there was an old contract unfulfilled, that searched for all the Brozone Brothers, and thanked his lucky stars he can in no way be connected to them. It was considered a cold one, where there was no hope among the communities of it ever being cashed in- but the knowledge someone was looking for them- specifically for the younger of the brothers (Him, Floyd and Clay) made him wonder who could it be.

(Part of him entertained that it could be John Dory)

(Other part dismissed it right away. After all, JD did specifically state 'Goodbye Forever'- why would he make the effort to employ bounty hunters to find three of his brothers, if he was even alive to do so?)

That meetings seems to set of a string of bad luck- at least, that's how he feels. Continuing down to Rock territory- of which he is most wary (after all, he was constantly being confused for one, and expected to cause mayhem and destruction- so what kind of Trolls Rock Trolls were to earn that reputation?

A very specific kind- wild and chaotic.

Compared to other Territories, no-one blinks when he just walks in and continues deeper into the Kingdom; and he can finally see why he was mistaken for a Rock Troll. Muted colours, sharp smiles and even sharper claws, it was like walking into uncanny valley, where nearly every troll wears his face. At that point, unknown to him, his colours are not completely grey and black, so he is sporting some faint hues, and very quickly learns that thanks to the direction he came from, Rock Trolls think he is from an Offshoot genre; either Punk Rock or Pop Rock (though they obviously hope for the former) They reconsider him to Folk Rock when he brings out softer tunes that he plays on a borrowed guitar; and for the first time in a while, Branch is asked to sing.

He panics, obviously- playing musical instrument is one thing, but getting over his trauma from singing is another- and quite swiftly and bluntly refuses, cringing after to wait for the inevitable "You are a Troll, why don't you sing?"

Only... it never comes. There are shrugs, and one "Cool." and then he just gets invited to an Indie Rock show, and that is that.

Completely baffled at this easy acceptance, Branch agrees out of shock, before he can trully think it through- and realizes it's the first time since he left Pop Village (at this point probably nearly two years ago) that he thinks back on its inhabitants and namely Poppy.

He feels rather guilty, for taking this long to really give them a concrete thought. Like yes, he did think of them at the beginning, when he lived with the Country trolls- but that was only in general way, comparing the different livestyles. He never really chose to think about the people he left behind.

Now, no longer blinded with grief, self-loathing and rampart paranoia, he does remember that not all adults in his life went out of their way to activelly fail him. King Peppy, for all that he was unequipped to deal with Branch's issues, tried to check up on him regularly; his Grandmother's friends or those who knew her, made it their goal to be kind, even if Branch tried to avoid them out of reminder what he caused

Hype, Trickie, Boom and Ablaze were old friends- his childhood friends- the ones he made after his brothers left, and the ones he pushed away after he went grey- and yet they still managed to be around, noticing them from a distance, even as he stopped speaking to them.

And then there was, of course, Poppy.

Just starting to mature when he left, it's not quite a crush that he feels for her (not yet anyway), but there is still some sort of appreciation for her- some part of him, that subconsciously aches at the need to be close to her, and feeling just that bit of her warmth and positivity- one that made him wistfully keep all her invitations and listen to the sound of her recorded voice.

For the first time, he wonders how they reacted to his disappearence. Wonders if they miss him- or if they curse him. If they do both- like he felt conflicted towards his brothers, the older he got and the more obvious it became that they are not coming back.

It was that thought- the comparison to his brothers- that pushed him to hesitantly think about returning back to Pop Village; to his bunker, to his old life- to Poppy.

It was a tentative thought really; truthfully, the desire was a half hearted spur of the moment, and not something he would drop everything for. He didn't miss his old life; where he was the village hermit, the outcast, the weird one. Besides, he just arrived in Rock, and he still had a whole adventure ahead of him, trying to find the Funk trolls.

And so, When in Rome, do as the Romans do- and so Branch steeled himself to attend a party, one that he was specifically invited to; after all, he had been at parties before now, within the reach of Techno Reef, it's not like this one is any different

Only it kind of felt like it- yes, the music was harsher, the beat went harder- but the harmonizing of voices reminded him so close of his own tribe that it just left him feeling jittery- and at first, yes, the party made him tense and hardly participate, but as it went on, song after song, he could feel himself slowly relax.

(Besides, there was something about rock music, that send warmth straight to the core of his being; something about it resonated with him more than any other music did, besides Pop- and where before he fought hard to not allow it to do that, perhaps, just this time, he could try the opposite)

(After all, they were underground, where Branch always felt the safest, and the Bergens had no idea other tribes even existed- he could indulge a little)

Of course, fate has a funny way of entertaining itself, and in the second of his indecisiveness, he gets bumped into and trips and falls- or he would, if pair of hands didn't steady him, and familiar voice asked him if he was okay

And Branch suddenly felt altogether three years old, getting fed empty promise and watching his older brother disappear through the entry to his Grandma's pod

And he is now in present, left staring at nearly 15 years older Floyd, his brother clearly living the best life, happily away from Pop Territory (away from Branch)

His name drops from his lips before Branch can stop himself, and that has Floy pause and squint at him- obviously not recognizing him, obviously trying to place him- before something clicks and his eyes widen and he goes pale

Branch most likely punches him- and then finds he cant stop heaving in fury and goes punch him again, not allowing Floyd a word in (honestly, he is not punching very hard, not apart from that first one)

Of course, Floyd is hardly alone, probably in a band, and his band mates are not keen on having their member be attacked by a random troll

Brawl very easily breaks out- honestly nothing new among the Rock Trolls- and ends up with all of them, especially Branch, thrown in a cell for their troubles, much to the protest of Floyd's bandmates, who curses and claims innocence

For the first time in forever, Branch feels hollowed out; yes, he had been hoping for a closure- but honestly, he had expected to find all of his brothers dead; not finding any of them living happily away, their youngest brother not even a blip of concern in their mind.

He certainly never expected it from Floyd, who essentially lived a stone throw away; who clearly was able to cross the distance it took from Bergen town to arrive in Rock troll's territory, just shy away from the Pop one.

------------------------------------------------------------ This is where I will stop the musing for now XD;

Obviously there are more things to add; Barb would make appearance, not yet as a Queen but definitelly in charge of keeping any Rock Trolls in line (she is not called a Princess because the Rock Trolls don't use that title for their heirs) and while Floyd is aware she is the future Queen, that information doesnt get shared)

The discovery of Funk Trolls still awaits as well, as does Branch's return to Lonesome Flats, as he had promised to do

But that's for the next time :)

[jensthwa]

 jensthwa's links ɞ ⋆ ⁺ ₊⋆ ｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡

  𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝: 𓏲 ࣪ ₊⋆ 𖤍𓂃 ʚ cami. she/her. army, atiny, fearnot. in love with the whimsy of it all and yunjin and seonghwa. please read my rules below.

𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝. 𝚊𝚘𝟹. 𝚝𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛. 𝚔𝚘-𝚏𝚒. 𝚒𝚗𝚋𝚘𝚡. 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚖.

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⋆ request are permanently closed: i post my stories here because is a way for me to get my writer needs out and about into the world. yes, i write self insert and yes, my fics contain smut but that does NOT mean i'm a solely a smut writer. i will not work on your requests, especially if you're requesting smut on my dms and/or askbox. ⋆ i have a permanent tag list form: starting 2025, i will be tagging everyone who leaves their @ in this form in all my works! it's a way for me to keep an easier record of it, but if you were already in one of my taglists, i will still tag you like i normally would, don't worry!

　　　　　jensthwa's stories ɞ ⋆ ⁺ ₊⋆ ｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡

ALL MY FICS ARE 18+ WITH THEIR RESPECTIVE WARNINGS AT THE START OF EVERY POST. PLEASE REFRAIN FROM INTERACTING WITH THEM IF YOU'RE A MINOR.

⋆ currently working on: yeosang's story! (part of the love's an uncharted path universe). ⋆ currently posting: love's an uncharted path universe. ⋆ latest: mountebank chem epilogue (jeong yunho x reader).

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⋆ cami's yap time: things i post that are not fic related, mini rants, questions i ask you guys, etc. ⋆ answered asks: almost all the things that have showed up on my inbox! pls don't hesitate to send me your thoughts about a fic! ⋆ fic recs: wonderful works by wonderful writers i hold close to my heart. pls, pls, pls check them out!

divider credits: cafekitsune, animatedglittergraphics-n-more & kodaswrld

[rulettebitch]

Uncharted Territory

Georgia Clark was changing bandages, gulping at the look of the rushed stitches between his chest. He was asleep, his face was twitching before waking up. His breath hitched, his cold blue eyes searched for something, or someone. One look was enough to tell how harsh war had treated him. (This is an AU where Robbie lives but Cecilia has died, the OC is quite plane, you could self-insert if that's what you like)

Chap 1 │ Chap 2 │ Chap 3 │ Chap 4 │ Chap 5 │ Chap 6

Chapter 05

Georgia stumbled through the door of the flat, her body heavy with exhaustion. Two days without proper sleep had left her drained, her mind foggy and her limbs aching. The hospital had been a whirlwind of chaos—men coughing, feverish, and desperate for relief. She had worked tirelessly, her hands moving with practiced precision even as her own strength waned. Now, all she wanted was to collapse into the comforting embrace of the sofa and let the world fade away for a while.

She dropped her bag by the door and practically fell onto the sofa, releasing a long, shuddering sigh as she sank into the cushions. Her eyes fluttered closed, the weight of the past two days pressing down on her like a lead blanket. For a moment, she allowed herself to simply exist, to breathe, to let the quiet of the flat soothe her frayed nerves.

But the quiet didn’t last long.

The sound of footsteps pulled her from her half-asleep state, and she opened her eyes just as Robbie emerged from the bathroom. Her breath caught in her throat, her exhaustion momentarily forgotten as she took in the sight of him. He was freshly showered, his hair damp and tousled, droplets of water clinging to his skin. His toned muscles glistened in the soft light, the towel slung low on his hips doing little to hide the sharp lines of his v-line. He pushed his hair back with one hand, the motion casual and effortless, completely unaware of her presence.

Georgia’s cheeks flushed, her heart pounding in her chest as she watched him. She had seen him in various states of undress before—living together had made such things inevitable—but this was different. There was something about the way he moved, the way the water clung to his skin, the way his muscles shifted beneath the surface, that left her utterly breathless. She couldn’t look away, even though she knew she should.

He finally noticed her, his eyes widening slightly as he realized she was there. He froze for a moment, his hand still in his hair, before quickly adjusting the towel on his hips.

“Georgia,” he said, his voice a mix of surprise and amusement. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

She swallowed hard, forcing herself to meet his gaze even as her cheeks burned. “I—I just got home,” she stammered. “I didn’t mean to… I mean, I didn’t know you were…”

She was sprawled on the sofa, her exhaustion making her words come out in a jumbled mess, and he couldn’t help but find it endearing. 

“When did you get here?” he had asked, and her reply had been something between a sigh and a groan, barely coherent.

She rolled onto her side, her hair falling into her face as she looked up at him with wide, tired eyes. “Robbie, I think I’m losing my mind,” she declared, her voice dramatic but tinged with genuine frustration.

He smiled, leaning against the doorframe, his towel still securely in place. “Why’s that?” he asked, his tone light but curious.

Georgia sighed, sitting up slightly as she began to ramble. “I missed you,” she said, her words spilling out in a rush. “You were so patient and well-behaved. These soldiers—they’re completely out of their minds, Robbie. They’re ill, they’re delirious, they’re wandering around like they own the place. And I just… I missed how easy you were to take care of.”

Robbie’s cheeks flushed at her words, a shy smile spreading across his face. He wasn’t used to being complimented, especially not by her, and the mention of her missing him sent a warm flutter through his chest. 

“Well,” he said, his voice soft, “I’m glad I could be… easy.”

She didn’t seem to notice his reaction, too caught up in her own thoughts. She stood abruptly, pacing the length of the living room as she continued to vent. “And they’re so loud, Robbie. So loud. And demanding. And—and—” She stopped suddenly, turning to face him with a frown. “Are you even listening to me?”

“Of course I am,” he said quickly, though his mind had admittedly wandered a bit.

Georgia didn’t seem convinced. She marched over to him, her exhaustion forgotten in her sudden burst of energy, and grabbed his arms, shaking him gently. “Come back to me,” she said, her voice firm but playful. “I haven’t finished talking.”

He laughed, the sound low and warm, as he let her shake him. “I’m here, I’m here,” he assured her, his hands coming up to steady her. “I’m listening, I promise.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, as if trying to gauge his sincerity, before finally letting go with a huff. “You’d better be,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. “Because I have a lot more to say.”

Robbie smiled, his gaze softening as he looked at her. Despite her exhaustion, despite her rambling, she was still so full of life, so vibrant and determined. It was one of the things he admired most about her. 

“Go on, then,” he said, his voice gentle. “I’m all ears.”

Georgia hesitated for a moment, as if surprised by his willingness to listen, before launching back into her tirade. Robbie listened patiently, his smile never wavering, his heart swelling with affection for the woman in front of him. She was a force of nature, and he wouldn’t have her any other way.

The room seemed to shrink around them, the air growing thick with unspoken tension as Georgia stepped closer to Robbie. Her words had been a stream of consciousness, a mix of exhaustion and frustration, but now, as she stood mere inches from him, the dynamic shifted. Robbie’s hand moved almost instinctively, his fingers curling around her waist and pulling her closer. The suddenness of it made her breath hitch, her eyes widening as she looked up at him.

“Do you not feel anything?” he asked, his voice low and tinged with something she couldn’t quite place. His grip on her waist was firm but not forceful, his blue eyes searching hers with an intensity that made her pulse quicken.

Georgia blinked, her mind struggling to catch up. “Pity, I guess,” she answered, her voice softer now, almost a whisper. “Those soldiers must’ve been through a lot to reach that state.”

Robbie’s jaw tightened, his gaze never leaving hers. “I mean—” he began, cutting her off before she could continue. “I’m standing here, naked in front of you. A man and a woman, talking to each other. Do you not feel an inch of curiosity?”

His words hung in the air, heavy and charged, and Georgia felt her cheeks flush. Her eyes dropped to his chest, to the scar that ran down the center, a reminder of the wounds she had helped heal. Without thinking, her fingertips reached out, brushing lightly against the raised skin. 

“It healed so well,” she murmured, her voice filled with a kind of professional fascination. “I can hardly tell it was ever there.”

Robbie’s hand shot up, catching her wrist before she could pull away. His grip was firm but not painful, his eyes locking onto hers with a mixture of frustration and something deeper, something raw. 

“Is that all you think about?” he asked, his voice tinged with hurt. “The scars, the wounds, the healing? Is that all I am to you?”

Georgia froze, her breath catching in her throat. She could feel the warmth of his skin beneath her fingertips, the steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. His words echoed in her mind, and for the first time, she allowed herself to truly look at him—not as a patient, not as a responsibility, but as a man. A man who had been through hell and back, a man who had somehow become an integral part of her life.

“What should I think about, then?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Her heart was pounding now, her mind racing as she tried to make sense of the emotions swirling inside her.

The moment hung in the air, suspended like a breath held too long. Georgia’s question lingered between them, unanswered, until Robbie decided to answer in a way words never could. He leaned in, his movements deliberate but gentle, and pressed his lips to hers.

He kissed her.

The kiss was soft, tentative, as if he were testing the waters, unsure of how she would respond. His skin, still damp from the shower, brushed against hers, sending a shiver down her spine. Georgia’s heart seemed to stop, her eyes widening in shock as his hands tightened around her waist, pulling her closer. The water droplets from his hair fell onto her cheeks, cool against her flushed skin, and his warm breath fanned across her face, sending a rush of warmth through her.

For a moment, she froze, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. But then, slowly, almost instinctively, she closed her eyes. The shock melted away, replaced by something deeper, something she had been trying to ignore for far too long. Her hands, which had been hovering with uncertainty, found their way to his chest, resting lightly against the scar that had once been a wound she had tended to.

Robbie’s kiss deepened, his lips moving against hers with a tenderness that made her heart ache. It was as if he were pouring all the unspoken words, all the emotions he had been holding back, into that single moment. Georgia felt herself melting into him, her thoughts dissolving into a haze of warmth and longing. The world outside ceased to exist—there was only Robbie, his arms around her, his lips on hers, and the steady beat of his heart beneath her fingertips.

When he finally pulled back, it was only slightly, his forehead resting against hers as they both caught their breath. His eyes searched hers, filled with a mixture of hope and vulnerability.

“Do you feel it now?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Chap 1 │ Chap 2 │ Chap 3 │ Chap 4 │ Chap 5 │ Chap 6

[narcosfandomdiscord]

narcos october prompts

The Narcos Fandom Forever discord server is introducing a month-long challenge, the Narcos October Prompts, which is open to fan creators for both the OG Narcos and Narcos MX TV shows.

Creators of all kinds are encouraged to make all types of fanworks! Fic, art, gifs, vids, and other miscellaneous fanworks are all welcome. 

Each fanwork must be published on the day that corresponds to the prompt. There are two prompts for each day of the month, and you can choose which you prefer.

For example, you can post a fanwork inspired by the Day 7 prompt “Blackout” on October 7. If you create something late, you can publish it on the amnesty day, which is October 30. 

Please use the hashtag #narcoctober to submit your entries, so we can find them and reblog them! 

EDIT: the event is now over. To enjoy the things we've created, peruse masterlist i (days 1-10), masterlist ii (day 11-25), and masterlist iii (day 26-31).

🍰 Prompt List 🍰

October 1 — Day of Firsts

Create a fanwork about a canon character you’ve never written about/used before.

Create a fanwork of an alternate universe you’ve never tried to create before.

October 2 — “Porque No Los Dos?” Day

Create a crossover for the original Narcos show and the Narcos: Mexico show, featuring at least one character for each.

Anything involving polyamory, ex: a fic about somebody who has two or more partners (with their partners’ knowledge and consent, aka not infidelity. That’s a different prompt).

October 3 — Day of Music

Create and post a playlist for fic/wip of yours OR your favorite episode and explain why each song resonates for that fic/wip or episode.

Put your favorite playlist on shuffle and whatever song comes up first, that’s your prompt.

>>> more prompts below the cut

October 4 — Day of Conflict

Anything involving a fistfight or a gunfight.

Quote prompt: “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

October 5 — Day of Visual Art

Visual fanworks: post a screenshot, meme, gif, gifset, video, or other non-fic visual fanwork.

Create a fanwork about a character interacting with a piece of art (e.g. buying decoration for a new home, stealing a piece, hitting on a stranger at a gallery, creating art themselves, etc)

October 6 — Day of International Relations

Write non-English language fic.

Use a random country picker and utilize that country in your work in some way: a character is from that country, a food from that country shows up, there’s international politics, etc. You get two rerolls if you don’t like the first or second country you get. If you get the United States, reroll automatically.

October 7 — Day of Darkness

Make something centered around non-death dark topics (we have a specific death day already). Morally or emotionally dark topics/themes.

One-word prompt: Blackout.

October 8 — Day of Light

A day of pure fluff: anything insanely, unambiguously, self-indulgently, luxuriously enjoyable.

One-word prompt: Sunrise.

October 9 — Day of Gay

Create anything devoted to an LGBTQ+ character. This can be your headcanon, but if you want a canon gay character, Pacho and his boyfriends are canonically gay. Also, one of Pacho’s biker lady criminals is played by a trans actress.

Create anything with a queer and/or trans original character or reader insert.

October 10 — Day of Tough Shit

Write a fic whose exact wordcount is divisible by 500 (500, 1000, 1500, etc).

Make a fanwork in a medium you’ve never used before. If you make GIFs, write something. If you write, draw. Etc. As long as it’s uncharted territory for you!

October 11 — Day of Fun

Create a non-visual, non-fic fanwork: quiz, game, playlist, incorrect quotes.

Create a fanwork with at least one joke in it (that YOU think is funny, fuck everyone else if they don’t think it’s funny lmao).

October 12 — Day of Death

Kill a character who lives in canon.

Create something with a character who is mourning a dying thing rather than a person (their dying relationship, their dying career, their dying city, their dying memories, their dying friendship, their dying dreams, etc etc etc)

October 13 — Day of Life

Create a fanwork in which a character avoids their canonical death.

Create a fanwork about characters having kids (sex to have kids, pregnancy, the birth itself, the kids growing up) or choosing not to have kids. It's a free country (it’s sorta a free country) (it’s sorta kinda a free country) (depends on which country we’re talking about i suppose)

October 14 — Day of Support

Create a review, response, or analysis of a Narcos or Narcos Mexico fic, in the style of an Amazon review or a NYT book review or something like that. Please keep it constructive and positive, no roasts.

Quote prompt: “I got you.”

October 15 — Day of Absolute Filth

Create a smut fanwork that includes three different kinks and/or sex acts (basically you could tag it with at least three tags that are Pure Filth).

Create a fanwork about a character’s moral corruption.

October 16 — Day of Surprises

These prompts were revealed at the start of the day.

Create a fanwork that focuses on dreams, either literal or metaphorical.

Shrimp.

October 17 — Day of Rare Treasures

Create a fanwork about a character that only shows up in one (1) season of the show. the rarer the better honestly

“I laughed and said, Life is easy. What I meant was, Life is easy with you here, and when you leave, it will be hard again.”

October 18 — Day of History

Create a fanwork about characters experiencing, participating in, or witnessing a real life historical event (could have been depicted in canon or not) e.g. moon landing.

Create a fanwork about two exes meeting unexpectedly.

October 19 — Day of Hurt

Create a fanwork about a character so emotionally or physically hurt that they can’t help but start crying even though they don’t want to.

Make a spitework (that is, a fanwork addressing something in canon that pissed you off, whether it was a character or a plot point).

October 20 — Day of Comfort

Create a fanwork about a character getting exactly what they need from someone unexpected.

Create a fanwork inspired by your #1 narcos comfort episode (not necessarily “the best” but rather the episode you rewatch the most often because you love it so much).

October 21 — Day of Women Who Will Step On You For Free

Create a f/f-centric fanwork.

Create a fanwork focused on the character development of a woman from the show.

October 22 — Day of Cross-Fandom Pollination

Create a fanwork that includes at least one Narcos character and at least one character from another fandom.

Create a fanwork with the plot or setting stolen from another fandom (and cite which fandom it is). For example, a daisy jones and the six fic where món is a 60s singer.

October 23 — Day of Threes

Create a fanwork that includes three items you can currently see.

Create a fanwork including three canon characters. extra difficult version: three canon characters that have never met.

October 24 — Day of Monsters

Create a fanwork about a character turning into a supernatural creature.

Quote prompt: “The world isn’t made up of heroes and monsters. Just broken people balancing between the two.”

October 25 — Day of Wow, That Escalated Quickly

Create a fanwork that begins in a canon-compatible place, but ends up going somewhere more dramatic.

Quote prompt: “It’s surprising how much can change in just one hour.”

October 26 — Day of Echoes

Pick a quote from the show that you love and use it as inspiration for your fanwork. Then share what the quote is at the end of your post.

Create a fanwork inspired by any mythological story (Greek, Norse, Aztec, Celtic, etc. get weird with it. Bible counts as mythology, fuck it)

October 27 — People of Color Day

Create a fanwork about an original character or reader character who is explicitly a person of color.

Create a fanwork about a canon character of color (e.g. Truijllo, Enrique, Kiki, Rafa, Azul).

October 28 — Day of Friendship

Create a fanwork inspired by somebody else’s fanwork, or including a cameo of somebody else’s original character (fanvids, fanart, moodboard, etc included — just please ask for permission from the original creator to use inspo before you do it!)

Quote prompt: “We’re friends, aren’t we?”

October 29 — Day of Horror

Create a fanwork inspired by your favorite horror movie.

Prompt: came back wrong.

October 30 — (penultimate day, October 30) Day of Amnesty

Post a fanwork you started for any previous prompt but weren’t able to finish in time.

Quote prompt: “I forgive you.”

October 31 — (final day, October 31) Day of Legacy

Create a sequel or counterpart to a fanwork you posted previously this month.

Quote prompt: “This is [my/your/their] legacy.”

November 1 — Bonus — Day of Celebration

reblog a fanwork that is your favorite creation that you made in the month

[earthtoluisa]

I suck at drawing Nathan drake but just me and him tired after a mission

[mystybelle]

RPGs, Visual Novels, RCGs, and Sandboxes

FF7 (og & remake), Assassin's Creed, Persona, Homestuck, NieR: Automata, God of War, Kingdom Hearts, Doki Doki Literature Club, Genshin Impact, and Uncharted, Shenmue are all RCGs/VNs.

Minecraft, ACNH, Genshin Impact*, and the part of Skyrim that people actually like are all Sandbox games.

Baldur's Gate, Deus Ex, Eureka, Fallout, Pathfinder, ACNH, Vampire: TM, Shadow the Hedgehog, Call of Cthulhu, Dishonored, most "h-game" visual novels, and Dragon Age are all RPGs.

RCGs (Rollercoaster games), or Visual Novels, are games where you experience an unalterable plot akin to a book or movie. You might be able to interact with the setting, but no more than the way you can check a wiki about another story to find things you might've missed.

Sandbox games are exactly that, sandboxes you can play with freely. Knocking things down and building them up. The amount of freedom to change things varies from game to game, and sandboxing might not always mean literal terraforming (like Genshin Impact's sandbox is mostly in building character's stats in interesting ways) though.

RPGs are actual Role-Playing Games, where the game is entirely, or mostly about, roleplaying an existing or self insert character within another world. If it has a plot, player actions determine its direction and ultimate outcome.

[giransbunnywife]

Trouble in Paradise: Relationship HC's

Just some general cute headcanons for my ship with Sully! I've been thinking about him a lot lately, and we're rewatching all of the trilogy again. So I can't help myself but ramble about my fucking favorite old man lmao~ You can find out more about their relationship in my good doc (currently a wip I'll post in the upcoming weeks, hopefully), but for now I have a refsheet of my Uncharted insert -> here!!

♡♡ Warning(s): highly suggestive mentions throughout, self insert x canon, fluff ♡♡

Their relationship started off as a casual hookup that was on and off for several months. The timeframe is incredibly iffy, considering the fact that they're both busy and could only see each other whenever they were both in town. Violet was the first to technically develop feelings, however some could argue that Sully had felt something more since the moment that they met.

Everything about them in the early days screamed old married couple in the way that they bantered and bickered, especially leading up to the first official date they had. Even after they get together it's still very much the same, though once they are married much later, it's very gushy and romantic.

Sully loves to call them random pet names throughout their adventures, especially given the reactions that they give. He tends to lean towards a few: Sweetheart, Sugar, Gorgeous, Darlin'

Some honorable mentions include: Kitten 🤢, Honey, Angel, Pretty Lady, Buttercup

Nicknames for him include: Baby, Handsome, Love (very intimate moments)

Violet sketches him a lot in their notebook, which started early on in their adventures and meeting each other. He wasn't fully aware of this until during a particular job when they accidentally dropped it near a puddle. He caught it just in time, catching a glimpse on the drawings before he handed it back. Since then he never let them live it down.

He likes to pull them in by their lower back just before he kisses them, or when he's intensively flirting with them. It's a telltale sign that he's feeling rather playful, which only gets them blushing like hell.

When Violet plays hard to get it entices him even more, especially given that they don't even try for that long. Just enough for him to tease them and have them wrapped around his fingers as fast as he can help it. The coaxing is the best part for him (and them).

The man absolutely loves their giggle. So much so that he is doing anything and everything to hear it over and over again. Doesn't matter where they are or what they are doing, he’s gonna have them giggling as loud as they can. And he’s incredibly proud of himself too. Prides himself on how good he is at getting it out of them. Especially in such a cute way.

They'll steal his shirts a lot and wear them without him even being fully aware, not that he’ll complain when they show up with it on. And he’s definitely staring at them the entire time. Noticing that they are wearing nothing underneath it and leaving a lot of buttons undone just to tease him.

Sully spoils the hell out of them both affectionately and materialistically, making sure that they always have everything they could ever want. Whether that's a brand new bag that they have been eyeing, or a movie that they have been dying to see. He is jumping at the chance to do it for them, especially if it means seeing that beautiful smile on their face.

This does mean that he is calling up Nate for some more opportunities to make money now that he has Violet to spoil rotten. Making for a lot of interesting conversations about how they're costing him hell, but in the best of ways.

Even though they got out on their fair share of extremely romantic destination dates, they do have plenty of romantic nights in that they share whenever they can. Having takeout while talking about their lives, sharing stories and putting on some show that they only watch together.

Sully enjoys hearing them ramble about their favorite topics, especially when it comes to their passions. He could listen for hours while they info dump, enjoying the sparkle in their blue eyes. The one time in which he is the most silent is when they are in this particular mood, and the smile never leaves his face.

[biohazard-inevitable]

Thinkin of my monster hunter self insert….

A rider who was born into a secluded wyvernian village, taught the respect and care of monsters that riders are, even gets his own kinship stone though he never feels a strong enough bond to a lot of monsters, though he still gets along fine with them.

One day he leaves the village to become a wanderer, along the way encountering more and more dangerous monsters until one moment, he finds an injured Astalos.

It screams and cries a mighty roar and splits the sky with green fulgur energy, though it struggles fly, so I help it, full how to train your dragon style and it flies away.

Later, im falling from a horribly great height after being wrenched into the sky by a hungry rattalos, and as I fall I’m snatched up in mighty black scaled talons, and its the astalos!

In that moment, my kinship stone burns a vibrant green and I start the beginnings of a beautiful bond with my Astalos, who I nickname Azzie for short.

Later down the line in our adventures, we become separated among icy cliffs, and I’m forced into the territory of an old, battle hardened Barioth who refuses to let me pass, though through every fight, it never kills me. In those moments, i learn.

I make weapons from the monsters around me and use them for pure survival, and every day I fight the barioth, suffering defeat after defeat until finally, i beat it, though I spare it just the same and as I finally walk out to the other side of its territory, off to reunite with my dear Astalos, i look back over my shoulder and see the Barioth watching over me with thise old, wise eyes, and I swear i see it nodding solomnly before turning away.

Flash forward to now, I’ve become a battle hardened hunter of legend, a hunter with the training of the wild itself, he who learned to hunt not by human standards, but by the monsters around me.

Rumors spread that an Astalos follows in my wake, though few ever spot it.

I’m assigned to the Avis unit by the guild as they know my past as a rider and my endless journeys across many lands, though they know I’m preffered to be a wanderer, but in uncharted lands, I’m exactly what they need.

And then the rest is the plot of Wilds, but also theres an Astalos lurking around my hunts and I soar into battle with the greatest of beasts, eager to see where my journey leads me next.

[mitsuki91]

I think that the world became too pure for our books... I really want to see inside of one the antis mind because... I just can't.

Really? Really did you have not one single without context evil thought?

Once again I am here to expose my self (and my bestie, bless her) because I am now quite sure that this... Repression even in our own mind that seems to be happening now... Blind ourself to the word. We are past the reading comprehension not be strong, we are in uncharted lands now.

Okay so: me and my friend have a mental "hut" were we put everyone we have/had a crush on. You can say... A cage. A MENTAL one. Everytime one of us find a new crush we always tell to each other "this person is going to the hut". We even have ranking inside the hut, with the best crush having more privilege, and if someone does something we don't like he lost his privilege or even he is thrown outside the hut. And the person in the hut could be anyone: irl crushes, actors, fictional characters. Doesn't matter to us. Because the whole hut, the whole cage, is a fun concept that it's not real. We can punish our People-in-the-hut if they misbehave because nothing real happens to them.

But if one of the antis or purity culture people can see my mind at some point, and see me thinking like "oh yeah, I want you, you go to the hut right now and then I will *insert something brutal here, sometimes even sexual* you" or worst, texting my friend this, I think this person would have not the abilty to comprehend that THIS IS NOT REALITY FOR US. This is a funny game. If tomorrow we will be able to build the hut, to hide the hut, to go and grab the irl people we want to put them to the hut, to do everything to said people, with the certanity we will not be discovered ever, STILL WE WILL NOT DO THAT.

BECAUSE WE WILL NOT HARM PEOPLE IRL THIS WAS NEVER THE POINT, NEVER. EVER. NEVER.

We are not bad people if somethimes we fantasize to do even bad thing to others, because the word here is that, fantasize. It's all in our mind with no intention to make it real, ever.

And sometimes we can use metaphores too to describe some concept we have in our mind, and a metaphore is just that, an example, something unrelated that can drive a concept. It's not real. If I think "I am sly as a fox" I am not thinking I am a real fox. Even if I only think "I am a fox" it means I am sly, not that I think I am a real fox. And if some antis look inside my head and see "I am a fox" I start to think they will think I am mental, because they can not understand. Really can not understand.

And I am worried about this.