#which i'm grateful for in a way but also they always held the money they gave me over my head
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As a personal win today: I am now almost completely financially independent from my parents, which means they can't hold it over me anymore 🥳
#i have wanted this for so long lmaooo#now i have a full time job and salary i can pay my own rent and bills and pay for my own things#they didn't allow me to get a job while i was in uni#which i'm grateful for in a way but also they always held the money they gave me over my head#(even though it was money they were supposed to give me anyway from the government)#anyway! this is cool!
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Hello! If u dont remember me I'm the person that requested the villainess au Trey x reader from a long time ago, just wanna drop in and say I really look forward to your works and hope you have a great day/night/time! Sorry for bothering you if this message ends up being a bother
‧₊˚✧ Being Reincarnated into a New World as the Bad Guy‧₊˚✧
feat: Trey
genre: slow burn, coworkers-to-something more
note: no pronouns were used for reader, reader is implied to be old enough to work, mentions of poisoning and assassination attempts, reader is somewhat emotionally constipated.
extra note: While Trey is not quite in-character as I would like, he is supposed to be younger than his canon version, so I wanted him to be more unsure and inexperienced than his future self.
I did it, I finally got this done. Praise me (don't)
Being Reincarnated as the Bad Guy aka Villain/ess AU masterlist
You don’t get paid enough for this nonsense. No, you seriously don’t.
One minute you were finally getting off a particularly bad shift at work, only to be in this strange world you don’t recognize…as a low-ranking servant to the bloody royal family!
The rules, the standards, the pretentious nobles you have to smile in fear of having your neck sliced…where’s OSHA when you need them?
At least your coworkers were decent and you’re not in charge of anything too major like waiting on the Queen or her son, unlike that young aide-in-training you see running up and down the palace…poor Sir Clover.
Not your problem, though
…Until a couple of greedy noblemen forced a vial of poison into your hands, promising you a grand reward of money and status for your compliance. They wanted you to spike the drink of the crown prince’s closest aide-in-training so they could plant their own men by his side.
With your best service smile on, you handed back the vial back.
“No ❤️”
When they try to threaten you, you kindly remind them that if they plan to drag you in the mud, you’re not above pulling them along with you.
“If I’m going down, I’m dragging everyone with me.”
Once that was over, you wanted to cleanse yourself from this ugly conspiracy. You were way too busy worrying about your own neck, and you assumed that Sir Clover was cautious over his own safety that you, a mere worker bee, have nothing to contribute.
However, you do notice that the young green-haired man seems to prioritize others over himself, and the lights to his room are often still lit until late into the night. An honest young man burdened with responsibilities; his defenses may not always be on guard…
Ugghh, what a pain in the-
“Um, excuse me?” You looked to the tall nobleman trying to capture your attention.
“Yes, Sir Clover?”
“Were you originally scheduled to work today?”
You held your urge to click your tongue. Of course, Trey would be aware of at least who was scheduled to wait on Prince Riddle and him. What an annoyingly conscientious man.
“My colleague was feeling unwell so I offered to take her place for today. I apologize for not informing you beforehand.” You bowed politely which made the bespectacled man a little flustered.
“No, I’m grateful she could take a rest. Thank you for taking up the role but please let us know next time so we can offer some medical help if needed.”
That wouldn’t be necessary, you thought as you nodded regardless. Your coworker wasn’t really sick in any way but she was more than happy to switch schedules with you.
Many of the servants are under the impression that you harbored a crush on the admittedly cute aide-in-training since you were caught glancing at his direction more often than usual. It wouldn't be surprising if your “crush” in question is also aware of the gossip, which leads to his tenseness around you. Be it kindness or hesitance, Sir Clover chose not to reprimand you for doing as you please.
“What a pain, but I guess it works in my favor anyway.”
A knock rang through the room and with Riddle’s permission, an anxious maid came in with a tray carrying a tea set, confusing everyone in the room.
It’s not time for afternoon tea yet.
“What is the meaning of this?” For someone so young, Riddle’s sharp tone ran a deadly chill down everyone’s back. “Afternoon tea is not for another 13 minutes.”
The maid stuttered in fear, the tea set clattering slightly in her hands. “T-The servants thought that His Highness and Sir C-Clover have been working tirelessly today and perhaps some tea could help.”
You had too much of a survival instinct to dare look at the prince but the silence and building heat in the air was evidence enough that the thought was not appreciative.
Trey was quick to clear the tension with an awkward cough and a smile. “Thank you, I could use some.”
At his words, you dutifully proceeded to reach for the set when the maid hastily pulled it away from you.
Strange
“I-I can do it. Please excuse me” Without sparing a glance towards you, the maid quickly set the tray down on a nearby table and worked to pour a cup.
You’ve seen this maid only a few times. She was a new addition to the roster, too new to approach the royal family but here she was. She hadn't even learned how to properly hold the pot which was noticeable to everyone but was ignored (at the behest of Trey’s wordless plea) due to assumed inexperience.
“She’s so nervous but here she is, so adamant about serving some damn tea…”
A suffocating feeling rising in your throat, you watched with trepidation as the maid walked towards Trey while holding the teacup almost too preciously.
“Eek!” The maid shrieked when your hand squeezed her wrist in an unforgiving grip. She turned to question you but your glare kept her silent.
Trey looked at you with confusion, but your attention kept on the shaking maid and the teacup. With your other hand, you reach for your silver brooch given as part of your uniform to symbolize you as a person of the royal family.
The confusion in Trey’s eyes turned to disbelief when he watched your silver brooch become a damning color as you dipped the silver into the tea.
The broken maid would have crumbled completely onto the pristine floor if not for your hand still on her wrist. While she seemed to be a bumbling mess begging for her life, you couldn’t risk her making a run for it.
You don’t get paid enough for this nonsense.
”So, it was a plan to replace me…permanently.”
You stood silently in front of the solemn man in his office. After arresting her, it was easy to extract information from the maid and prince Riddle is gathering evidence for their act of treason, including your own interrogation.
“You are the trusted aide-to-be of the prince that cannot be bribed. You’re considered an obstacle.” You bowed your head. “I apologize for not speaking out sooner but if it were just my words without evidence, I could have my tongue removed for accusing nobility.”
If it was just you, then you wouldn’t be as confident. But to think that those corrupted nobles managed to convince someone else to do their dirty work. They were desperate and now that there was an attempt, the higher authorities have to take action.
“I shouldn’t feel bad for that maid…why should I for the choice she made…” you could still feel the sensation of that woman’s shaking body in the hand that held her. You don’t like it.
“Ha, you really don’t sugarcoat your words.” Trey’s voice pulled you back as he tried to laugh but his young body felt too heavy to put his whole heart into it.
But it’s finally over. The poisoning failed and those stupid noble scums were on Prince Riddle’s hit-list. That feeling of guilt that ate at your heart could finally rest in peace…right?
Even when he was the victim of all this, Trey was still sitting in his office in charge of investigating his own assassination attempt, on top of his usual duties in assisting the Royal family.
“Thank you for your time,” he even dares to smile kindly at you with dark circles under his warm eyes. “If you could, please call over the head staff to plan on interrogating the rest of the servants.”
“No.”
“N-No?”
“I won’t be doing that. I could ask the head staff to leave his schedule open if needed or if he could handle it with the guards since that’s his f*cking job,” You stared right into Trey’s eyes which widened in surprise. “For now, I humbly suggest Sir Clover to take a rest in his room or to work on something other than your assassination case.”
You didn’t wait for your stunned employer to reply as you bowed politely once more. “If there is nothing else, I shall take my leave.”
You moved away, making your way to the door before pausing. You glanced back at the young man in such a large office and your consciousness felt heavy. Your body was physically no older than Trey or Riddle but the weight on their shoulders was immeasurable, too much for either of them to handle on their own.
“Sir Clover,” you refused to look him in the eyes, “if you ever need anything…I’m willing to assist however I can.”
Immediately regretting your embarrassing words, you quickly added “but during work hours only!” before hastily leaving the office.
A shame really, since you missed the way Trey let out a genuine laugh after so long.
#twisted wonderland#twst#disney twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland x reader#twst x reader#twst imagines#twst scenarios#twisted wonderland imagines#villainess au#trey clover#twst trey x reader
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GRINCH AU
My works are 14+ ONLY. If you’re under 14 DO NOT interact with me or any of my works
Pairing: Grinch!Jongho x Martha May Whovier!fem reader
Word count: 2,428
Note: I was rereading this one and I forgot how much I loved it 😭 I took a different route and put Y/n in Martha May Whovier’s place while also putting my own twist on the story and adding my own scenes. Christmas is in 3 days so thank you all for your love and support for the Christmas imagines series! I’ve loved reading your reblogs and comments! I hope you all enjoy this one and have a Merry Christmas!! 💚❤️ Reminder: This imagine is from Wattpad so there will be no continuations or extra parts
Years ago when you were still in school, you had a classmate who stood out from the rest. His name was Jongho.
His messy, green hair stuck out from the other Whos and the sour look constantly etched onto his features was one everyone talked about. He kept to himself most of the time, staying seated in the back of the classroom, not paying attention and not speaking to anyone unless spoken to first.
You felt bad for him. Part of you always thought he liked being by himself, but another part of you thought he might enjoy some company. So, one day you approached him.
"Hi." You greeted.
His uniquely-colored bright green eyes met yours.
"Hi." He returned, his tone short.
"I'm Y/n."
"I know."
"What's your name?"
You already knew his name, you'd heard it during roll call before, but you wanted him to introduce himself.
"Jongho."
"I like your hair." You complimented.
The sour look on his face fell just a bit.
"You do?"
"Yeah. Were you born like that?"
He nodded.
"That's so cool."
"It is?" He asked, bringing his hand up to touch his viridescent locks.
"Yes. I like it a lot. It's very unique."
That was the first time you'd ever seen him smile.
"Can I sit in front of you?" You asked him.
He gave a small nod in response.
After that day, you started talking to him, saying hello and asking how his day was going. You were unaware of how much Jongho appreciated that. No one had ever showed him kindness like you had. He was used to being ignored, so all this attention from you was new to him, as was the warm feeling in his chest.
Christmas approached and Jongho wanted to do something special for you. He remembered you mentioning during a recent conversation about Christmas that you liked angels. He didn't have the money to buy you one, so he did the next best thing.
He stayed up late, rummaging through his adoptive parents' kitchen, taking anything he might be able to use for his little DIY project. It took him nearly all night, but once he was finished, he knew his hard work had paid off and he couldn’t wait to see your reaction.
The next day, you walked into the school dressed in your most festive outfit. As you headed towards your classroom, someone ran up beside you, catching your attention.
"Y/n!"
You turned to see Taehyun, a fellow classmate. He always kind of got on your nerves. He was cocky and often bullied other people, especially ones who weren’t snobby and rich like he was, which you didn't like at all. Not one bit.
"What do you want?"
"I got you a present." He grinned, pulling out a necklace with huge diamonds on it.
It was ugly. However, your mom always told you to be grateful, so you thanked him.
"Put it on." He held it towards you.
"Maybe later."
"Come on."
You knew he wouldn't leave you alone, so you gave in, holding your hair up and allowing him to clip the necklace around your neck.
You weren't aware of this, but Jongho, who was on his way to give you your gift, had seen you with Taehyun and hurriedly hid behind a nearby wall. He peeked his head around the corner, watching as Taehyun clipped a flashy necklace around your neck, the dozens of diamonds sparkling under the fluorescent lights in the hallway. He felt his heart sink as he turned his back on the painful scene and walked off.
Taehyun gave a thumbs up of approval at the necklace before heading to class. As soon as he was out of sight, you pulled the gaudy thing off, shoving it into your bag. It was the ugliest necklace you had ever seen. It looked like something an old lady would wear and it was far too big for your tiny child-sized neck.
You continued down the small hallway of the school and into your classroom, acting as if nothing had happened. When Jongho saw you walk in, he sat up straighter. He noticed you weren't wearing that ugly necklace he saw Taehyun put on you moments earlier, which made him feel a bit better.
You walked over to the seat in front of his, which you'd been sitting in for the past few weeks, placing your backpack down.
"Hi, Y/n." Jongho greeted you.
"Hi, Jongho." You smiled. “Are you excited for Christmas?"
"I am." He nodded. "I have something for you, by the way."
His tone was soft and he seemed a little nervous.
"You do? Like a present?"
He gave a short nod as he started rummaging around in his backpack. He pulled out an object and handed it to you. You glanced down at the flashy item, observing it carefully. Once you realized what it was, you gasped.
It was an angel made of what appeared to be kitchen appliances, small gems, and pieces of stained glass.
"You made this for me?" You asked, unable to believe he would go to such lengths.
Unlike when Taehyun gifted you that necklace, you didn’t have to fake your gratitude for Jongho’s heartfelt present. It was stunning and best of all, made by him.
"I did." He nodded.
"It's so beau—"
Before you could finish your sentence, Taehyun walked up, cutting you off.
"Really, freak?" He scoffed. "This is the best you can do? This is just a pile of garbage."
Before you knew what was happening, Taehyun snatched the angel from your hands and threw it on the ground.
Jongho looked down at the present he worked so hard to make that was currently in pieces on the classroom floor. Much like this now destroyed gift, his heart was shattered.
"Taehyun!" You shouted at the boy as you dropped to the floor, picking up the pieces and setting them onto your desk.
You didn't even notice Jongho rush out of the room until he was already gone and out of sight.
You turned to glare at Taehyun, mustering up all the anger you could. Without thinking twice, you grabbed the necklace he gifted you from your bag and shoved it into his hand.
"I don't want this." You told him.
That was years ago; you were probably eleven years old at the time. You never forgave Taehyun for what he did, but that didn't stop him from trying to constantly win you over.
Jongho never came back after that day. You didn't know what happened to him until about three years ago.
There were whispers in Whoville about a "scary" green-haired man that lived on Mount Crumpit, the ominous, snow-capped mountain that loomed above the town. You knew immediately that it had to be Jongho, though the Whos didn't call him that, they referred to him as The Grinch. You weren't sure why. Perhaps it was because of that sour look constantly plastered on his face. If that were the case, he hadn't changed at all.
Every night, you found yourself gazing up at the monstrous mountain, wondering what Jongho was up to and if he was doing okay.
"Nothing's stopping me from seeing him." You voiced your thoughts aloud.
You were in the midst of planning a Christmas party, though you weren't sure if anyone would show. The Mayor, aka Taehyun, was having a party the same night. You only invited two people, but Taehyun's Christmas parties were always the talk of the town, so you weren't even sure the only two friends you had would show up.
You sighed, turning your attention back to Mount Crumpit, a brilliant idea popping into your head.
The next day, you set out on your own, climbing up Mount Crumpit, a Christmas party invitation clutched in your hand.
It took an agonizingly long time for you to reach the top, and by that time, your fingers, toes, and nose were completely numb. Despite that, you approached the door that was nestled in the mountain, giving a few knocks on the weathered wood.
Nothing.
You tried again.
Still nothing. Just the sound of the frigid wind whistling as it blew past, whipping strands of your hair around.
You knocked once more, only to get the same result. You then resorted to plan B and moved closer to the door.
"Jongho?" You called out. "It's me, Y/n. I don't know if you remember me."
You paused for a moment in case he happened to hear you.
"I'm not sure if you're in there, but I'm having a Christmas party on the 25th. I'd really like it if you would come. I'd love to talk and catch up."
You paused for a moment before continuing.
"I never knew what happened to you all those years ago. I only recently found out where you've been hiding. Truth is, I miss you. I'd like to see you again."
You took the invitation and slid it underneath the door.
"I'll just leave that there." You stood up. "Goodbye, Jongho. I hope to see you soon."
You started your descent down the mountain, hoping that Jongho heard you. If not, the invite had been delivered and it's in his hands now.
Inside the mountain stood Jongho. He heard your knocking, but ignored it, thinking it was some dumb kids trying to prank him, but then he heard your voice. Your sweet voice that was always laced with kindness.
He shot up from his chair, hurriedly scurrying towards the doorway. Your voice sounded so gentle and comforting. It was nice to know you hadn't changed. He listened intently as you spoke.
"I don't know if you remember me."
What? Of course he remembered you. You were the only person who bothered to pay him any mind. The only person to show him any sort of compassion and kindness.
He wanted to speak, let you know that he was there and he was listening, but for some reason the words were stuck in his throat.
"I'm not sure if you're in there, but I'm having a Christmas party on the 25th."
His face scrunched in distaste at the mention of the obnoxiously cheerful holiday. After he ran away all those years ago, he held such bitter feelings towards Christmas. He despised it, hated it. The holiday was ruined for him. He was humiliated that day in front of you and couldn't bare to be in that classroom any longer, so he ran out. He didn't even think about how that would make you feel. Truthfully, he thought you forgot about him. Everyone else did... for a while, anyway.
Three years ago, he returned to Whoville for certain items he couldn't obtain himself and, even with a disguise, people seemed to recognize him. After that, people started harassing him. Kids—mostly teenagers, would dare each other to go up to his home and knock on his door. It was annoying and he wished people would just leave him alone.
Except maybe you, of course. Though Jongho shut himself off from everyone and had a hatred for every Who in town, he had a fondness towards you. You were the one and only exception.
"I'd really like it if you would come. I'd love to talk and catch up."
His eyes widened upon hearing that.
You wanted to catch up? As in talk? To him?
There was a strange feeling in his chest as he thought about you wanting to spend time with him. It was a feeling he hadn't felt for at least ten years.
He listened as you said your goodbyes, watching as an invitation was slid under the front door. He waited a moment before he walked over to take the invite. Even though Jongho hated Christmas, he had to admit, the invitation was pretty. Inside was the address of your home along with the date and time that the party would take place, all written in your beautiful handwriting.
His fingers unconsciously traced over the letters before turning to his dog, Max.
"What do you think?" He asked the animal. "Should I go?"
The dog barked in response.
"Yeah, but I don't have anything nice to wear."
Max barked again.
"I know I don't have to dress nice, but it's for Y/n."
The dog only stared at him.
"Fine." He huffed, throwing his arms in the air. "I'll go find something. Just stop nagging me, will ya?"
Your party was a bust so far. It was nearly time for it to start and no one had shown. Just when you were ready to give up, there was a knock on the front door, making you perk up. You hurriedly went to answer it, surprised to see who was standing on the other side.
"Jongho?"
His uniquely-colored green hair was neatly pushed back, showing off his insanely handsome features and round face. He wore black slacks, a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, and a red vest that fit his body snugly.
You were rendered speechless as you looked at him. You didn't mean to stare, but you didn't expect him to show, not only that, but he looked incredible.
You had a crush on him back in school. Part of you thought that would go away, but seeing him in front of you proved that your feelings for him hadn't gone anywhere.
His eyes stayed glued to the the ground as he fiddled with his fingers. You fought the urge to hug him, afraid it would be too much, especially after not seeing him for so many years.
"I can't believe you showed up." Your eyes drifted down to a small scruffy-looking dog sitting by Jongho's feet. "And you brought a friend?"
"This is Max." He told you, his voice quiet.
"Why don't the two of you come inside? You're just in time."
Upon entering your house, Jongho found that he was the only one there. He saw a table with four plain gingerbread houses sitting out along with icing and other candy decorations as well as a decently-sized spread of food.
"I thought you were having a party." He spoke up.
"I am. I invited a couple people and you, but they were no-shows. Probably at the mayor's party." You gestured to a gaudy invitation on your coffee table.
"Is that from..." Jongho trailed off.
"Yeah." You rolled your eyes.
Jongho couldn't hold back the sour expression on his face.
I still can't believe that jerk managed to become mayor of Whoville. He thought bitterly.
Jongho walked around, keeping his hands shoved in his pockets. He was feeling a bit overwhelmed and out of place, even though he was the only person in your house. It wasn't you—you hadn't changed at all. It was the fact that it had been so long and he hadn't really spoken to anyone since running away. He wasn't sure how to initiate a conversation, let alone what to say, so he resorted to looking around.
You began going on about what all you had planned for the party as he wandered around.
"I have food if you're hungry. Max is welcome to have some too. I also have different activities to do if you get bored. We can decorate gingerbread houses, make our own ornaments, or have a Christmas movie marathon." You listed, not knowing that Jongho's attention was elsewhere.
His eyes gazed upon the massive Christmas tree in your living room, as he looked at the glittering lights and decorations adorning the branches, but that wasn't what caught his attention. It was the angel that donned the top of the tree. His angel. The one he made for you.
"So." You clasped your hands together as you approached Jongho. "What first?"
You stopped when you saw him staring at something. Following his gaze, you realized it was the angel at the top of your tree.
"You kept it?" He asked, not taking his eyes away from it.
"I did."
"I thought it was broken."
"I fixed it."
"I can't believe it."
"That gift meant a lot to me. You ran out before I could tell you, but it's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen." You stared up at the decoration. "I love that little angel."
Jongho was about to speak, but was stopped by a sudden knocking at your front door.
"Maybe we have some company after all." You beamed, going to answer the door.
Your smile dropped immediately when you saw Taehyun standing at your doorstep.
"What are you doing here?" You asked snappily.
"You're not at my party. Didn't you get my invitation in the mail?"
"I did."
"Then what are you doing here all by your lonesome?" He inquired, tilting his head.
Jongho didn't have to see the guy's face to know who it was. He clenched his fists, making his presence known as he stalked up to the doorway to stand beside you.
"She's not alone."
Taehyun's eyebrows raised as a look of amusement colors his features.
"Oh, I see." He scoffed. "You're busy spending time entertaining this freak."
"That's enough." You snapped. "Don't you have a party to get back to?"
"I can spare a few minutes."
"There's no need. I don't want you here."
"I'm the mayor. I don't have to listen to you." He spoke, trying to push past you and force his way into your home.
Jongho stepped forward, protectively pulling you behind him as he stared down Taehyun.
"She said leave."
"I'm not afraid of you." He scoffed.
"Leave. Now. I'm not going to tell you again."
"What are you gonna do about it?" He taunted. "Go hide in your little cave again like you did all those years ago?"
To your surprise, Jongho roughly shoved Taehyun away, causing him to stumble back and fall into the snow. He landed with a grunt, glaring up at the green-haired boy beside you. At that point, Max had scampered over to the front door to see what was going on and had started growling at Taehyun.
"Don't you dare bother her again." Jongho snapped before slamming the door shut.
He then turned to you, his expression softening.
"Are you okay?"
You nodded. "Just annoyed with him. Thanks for sticking up for me like that."
"It's nothing." He shrugged.
You knew he was just being modest.
"I have to admit, I've been wanting to do that for a long time." He added, making you chuckle.
"He definitely deserved that, and more." You locked the front door, before turning back go Jongho. "Now that he's gone, we can get the party started. What do you say?"
He only nodded, seeming a bit bashful.
You put on some Christmas music and immediately began preparing hot cocoa for you and your guest. Once that was finished, you urged Jongho to participate in at least one of the activities you planned. He decided on ornament decorating.
As the two of you decorated your ornaments, you talked about what had been going on in your lives, you more than him.
"You know, the day you ran off, Taehyun got me the ugliest necklace." You cringed at the memory. "I don't even now why. I guess he was trying to win me over. That boy is relentless, always has been it seems.”
Jongho knew which necklace you were talking about, but pretended he didn't.
"Do you still have the necklace?" He asked in an almost hesitant manner.
"No." You shook your head. "I gave it back to him after he broke your gift to me. I hated it anyway. It was the ugliest and gaudiest thing I'd ever seen. It looked like something an old lady would wear."
Jongho couldn't help but smile knowing you gave the necklace back to Taehyun. Not only that, but it was clear how much you disliked Taehyun, and that gave him a confidence boost.
"Y/n, I wanted to tell you this earlier before we were interrupted, but knowing you pieced together that angel gives me this warm feeling in my chest. I'm not really used to it, but it's a good feeling. The last time I felt like this was in school when I was spending time with you."
You were surprised by this confession, his sweet words making a warm feeling of your own spread in your chest.
"You approached me that day and spoke to me. No one had ever done that."
"I just thought you needed some company."
"Deep down, I think I did." Jongho stopped to get a look at his ornament. "I think I'm done. Sorry if it looks bad. I don't usually do stuff like this."
"Let's see it." You leaned over.
Jongho's cheeks got warm at your close proximity. You didn't notice as you were too busy looking at the ornament he decorated.
He painted it green and added red swirls on it. It was simple and a little messy, but cute nonetheless.
"I like it." You smiled.
"You do?"
You nodded.
"You wanna keep it or do you wanna hang it on my tree?"
"I wanna hang it." He answered quietly.
"We can hang them together. I just finished mine." You showed your ornament to Jongho before the two of you placed them on the tree.
"Aren't you glad you did that?" You asked.
He nodded. "It was fun."
Jongho was beginning to feel himself become shy again and started having trouble looking you in the eye without getting flustered. You were so nice and so pretty.
"Y/n." He called out, keeping his eyes on the tree for a moment, trying to gather his nerves.
"Thank you for inviting me."
"I should thank you for showing up. If you weren't here, this would be the most boring party ever." You chuckled.
Jongho started to speak, but you cut him off.
"You wanna dance?"
"Oh. I... I don't really know how."
"It's easy. Follow me." You took both his hands, pulling him into the living room, Max following behind. You placed Jongho's hands on your waist before wrapping your arms around his shoulders. You couldn't help but notice the faint pink tinting his cheeks.
"So this is how you stand, then you just sway back and forth, or you can take small steps left to right and slowly go in a circle. Whatever feels right."
"I'd like to just stay in one spot."
"Alright." You smiled softly, the two of you swaying side to side.
You studied Jongho's features, taking in every perfect detail of his face, your heart thumping wildly in your chest. You only turned away for a moment, seeing that Max had made himself comfortable on the couch. You let out a chuckle before resting your head on Jongho's shoulder. He seemed a little tense at first, briefly making you worry you had overstepped, but he soon relaxed.
You weren't sure how long the two of you danced for and you didn't really care. You were just happy to be reunited with Jongho.
"Y/n." He spoke up, his tone gentle.
You hummed in response, pulling back to look him in eyes.
"I'm going to say something that I've wanted to say for a long time and you can say no. I won't be upset."
"What is it?" You inquired.
"I really like you. I have from day one."
You were too stunned to speak. You had no idea.
"Okay. I've made you uncomfortable. I'll let myself out."
"No." You spoke up, abruptly. "I like you too, even way back in school. Seeing you tonight made me realize that my feelings towards you haven't gone away at all. In fact, I think they've gotten stronger."
Jongho seemed equally surprised at your confession as you were at his.
"You're serious? This isn't a prank or anything?"
"No pranks." You shook your head.
Caught up in the moment, Jongho pulled your face towards his, catching himself just before his lips touched yours.
"It's okay." You whispered. "Go ahead."
That's all the confirmation he needed before he smashed his lips against yours, capturing them between his own in a full-fledged kiss. You were dizzy for a moment, not expecting him to go in hot and heavy—not that you were complaining.
Your hands found their way to Jongho's brightly-colored hair, running your fingers through it and feeling it's softness. A gasp left you as Jongho's hands lightly squeezed your waist before he snaked his arms around you, pulling you flush against him.
The kiss seemed to last forever yet not long enough at the same time. Jongho pulled away, looking a bit flustered. You cupped his cheeks, lovingly stroking them with your thumbs.
"I want you to stay." You blurted.
"Stay?"
"Yeah. With me. Here. I don't want you to go disappear in that cave again."
Jongho didn't have to think about it for very long. It was either live in a nasty cave and be alone, forever having conversations with his dog, or live with you in your cozy home getting to see you every day. The choice was obvious.
"Okay." He agreed.
"Really?"
He nodded. "I'll get to be with you all the time, plus I can protect you from Taehyun when he starts bothering you again."
"I like the sound of that." You grinned, leaning in to kiss him once again.
Hongjoong ❄︎ Seonghwa ❄︎ Yunho ❄︎ Yeosang ❄︎ San ❄︎ Mingi ❄︎ Wooyoung
Masterlist ᝰ ��� enjoyed this imagine? reblogs & comments are very much appreciated!
DO NOT steal, plagiarize, copy, repost, alter, or translate my works in any way
🏷 @h3arteyes4mingi
#ateez imagines#ateez fanfic#ateez scenarios#choi jongho#jongho#jongho x reader#jongho x you#jongho x y/n#kpop fanfic#kpop imagines
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The Report Card – Fantasy High Junior Year Ep 10
Maximum Loser
Welcome back to Fantasy High where the Abernant sisters are having sandwiches in front of the burnt ruins of their old mansion. You know, normal sibling activities! As we learned last week, Aelwyn is working for Kipperlilly (Adaine calls her Cottoncandy Bitchfuck which is one of my faves just for the levels of obvious disdain and degrees of separation from the original name) and Adaine wants all the info ASAP. Here is a rundown of what Aelwyn tells her (along with speculation on my part):
KP seems to be loaded in a way that isn’t connected to her parents' jobs (Dad is a realtor and mom is a clerk for the treasurer’s office). [Could she possibly be getting the money from her party member with a rich dragon ancestor? And could she be using her mom’s government job to get inside info somehow?]
KP has been employing Aelwyn as her “arcane errand girl”. She’s basically been getting her magical contraband which Aelwyn figures are spell components. Adaine asks why their party wizard Oisin can’t just do it and Aelwyn says that KP was very adamant about him being “protected”. [Does that mean protected as in not in trouble so he doesn’t get expelled and mess up their party comp or protected as in “I don’t want him to know what I’m doing because he wouldn’t approve”?]
KP never had Aelwyn steal a cloud rider engine for her but she did have Aelwyn download schematics for one which she thinks was so that it would be on her browser history not KP’s. [Aelwyn, do NOT get framed for this girl’s crimes I’m BEGGING you.]
Similarly, KP never texts Aelwyn any info. They always talk in person so she keeps clean at least on paper.
There are two specific things that Aelwyn had to procure that were kind of hard to find because they’re more divine than arcane: Devil’s Nectar and Ambrosia. [We don’t learn what the properties of those are exactly but they seem pretty clearly to be the divine and infernal versions of the same thing. Maybe they can make a god or a devil? Sounds like it’s part of the resurrection plan–or maybe they want to raise a new god?]
Anyway, Aelwyn promises to shoot Adaine a text the next time KP reaches out to her so she can spy via scrying (I'm reminded of Spy, Tongue, Curse again). She also shows Adaine her tiny apartment full of senior cats and microwave dinner trays that’s sorely in need of a deep clean. Adaine invites her to swing by Mordred to get her laundry done and maybe hang out and Aelwyn seems tentatively receptive, even though the aggressive positivity of the house and its residents (who she does ultimately care about) majorly grates on her.
[Also! Not plot relevant but their relationship progress is in full swing with open “I love yous”, only slightly undercut “I believe in yous”, and kisses blown as they say goodbye. I’m trying to be super streamlined with this recap so I can get it finished on time but I had to at least quickly mention how delighted I was by this scene which I have watched so many times. They’re doing it! Sisters!]
We next cut over to Riz who is in the car with his mom and he’s so so so over this whole semester. He keeps talking about everything that’s going on with the bored, anxious, almost whiny, but mostly resigned tone that makes her pull over and force him into a nap. Here are the mystery relevant bits of their conversation pre and post nap:
Sklonda’s case was defending a married firbolg couple–Alonso and Hespia Loam. Frosty Faire was supposed to be held at their farm but then they were accused of embezzling and the event pulled. [Firblog are giant-kin if that matters.]
They maintained their innocence and Sklonda believed them. The case was actually going to be a slam dunk because they found forgeries and docs submitted on their behalf. But then they got murdered so the case was over. [Forgeries and docs submitted on their behalf reminds me of Lucy’s god change form.]
Sklonda thought this case was strange because there’s no financial incentive to frame the loams. [Sounds like the motive could have been just moving the festival to a different location to me.]
The reason they were under suspicion was that amounts of money matching what was embezzled from Frosty Faire were deposited into the Loams' account but Sklonda was able to show that that was all bogus and that the Loams didn’t even use online banking and that a Bastion City VPN was involved. But again, before they could track that down beyond “somewhere in Solace” it got shut down due to the murders (which the cops are now investigating btw but this is a Brennan story so how useful will they really be? [This is also giving me KP vibes but in fairness, that girl is just suspicious.]
Lola Embers is the one who recommended the move from Loam Farms to the Thistlespring Tree. [A possible Ruben request since he’s her client?]
Riz also tells Sklonda all about what’s going on with the demon stuff and the Lucy stuff and the campaign stuff. Sklonda is concerned about the demon stuff but she’s honestly more concerned about Riz breaking his back and losing sleep over Kristen’s campaign. She’s very fired up and a bit incredulous that he’d work so hard for his friends who, from her POV, are always slightly bullying him (“Your name isn’t The Ball. It’s Riz!”). And, while she’s on it, he would be a great candidate himself! Riz assures her that their dynamic is fine and then worries her again right away by saying he’s absolutely gonna check out the crime scene. She sighs deeply and says they can check it out together because she knows she’s not talking her son out of it. (She also says she’ll try and get some info from her old co-workers but again, cops in a Brennan world so we’ll see how useful they are.)
Post Grix exploding, Jace hosts an impromptu assembly: Things are bad y’all! With Aguefort gone and Grix blown up (not to mention Yolanda dead), they’re getting to the point where it’s not clear that the school will be able to continue functioning.
The whole cleric track is going pass/fail which none of the Rat Grinders seem to have strong reactions to (Ruben smirks and Buddy looks confused, but the rest look bored or unfazed). This news especially sucks for Freshmen and Sophomores who won’t be able to take the Last Stand exam Porter mentioned in an earlier episode. Some upperclassmen who maybe weren’t doing so hot (like Max and his party) look kinda stoked. Fig does insight on Jace and her roll is low (5) but he seems like he’s sincerely stressed about this unforeseen situation.
Post assembly, Hilariel calls Fig (after 18 missed calls to Fabin’s phone which is on Do Not Disturb) to invite everyone over to spend The Lunar Yulenear (fantasy Christmas) with them (and also inform her that Gilear’s string of good luck is still going strong. He cracked his back while limboing and grained 2 inches in height!). Fig turns that into invites for everyone at Mordred (including Aelwyn who is a wanted criminal in Falinel and Sandra-Lynn who is Gilear’s unfaithful ex–wild crew). Fabian wants the chance to talk to his mom but by the time Fig hands over the phone, she’s already hung up.
Riz fills everyone in on the Loam Farms situation and Gorgug worries that the soil at his house is corrupted now. Adaine reminds everyone that Fig is still super cursed and they should probably start looking into that soon. Kristen and Fig get naked for no reason so we’re gonna move on from that to Fabian getting a text from Mazey. Apparently she's just gotten some big news and she doesn’t know exactly who to talk to. He rushes away from his naked friends as quickly as he can (so valid) and goes to meet up with her. (While he’s en route, Riz wonders if the RG’s killed rats were being killed sacrificially and Fig wonders if Lucky FROSTblade had anything to do with the FROSTyfolk festival).
Fabian meets up with Mazey who congratulates him for killing Grix since he mega-sucked and was shooting nets at kids. Then, she says that she knows that Fabian and his party have kinda always had the school’s back over the past few years and she trusts him which is why she’s telling him what she’s about to say. Remember how anything Aguefort says, even as a bit, is canon? Well, apparently he said once in an email that if there’s no principal then the school becomes a democracy and the student body president becomes principal. Fabian is baffled: surely the vice principal would become principal, right? But no. The system is set up so that there’s always one all powerful principal and one VP who is supposed to be Kalvaxus (remember, he was supposed to be imprisoned there forever). So she’d have to take classes (has to be a student enrolled in good faith) AND be principal and she doesn’t feel like she can do it. Fabian is awkward but encouraging and says he’ll do his best to help her and ask his friends for advice. When he does, Riz right away is like, "They’re gonna kill her, dude,” so Fabian rushes back and invites (practically begs) Mazey over after school so he can keep an eye on her.
Once school is out, Fig does her bodyguard thing and secretly trails Mazey so she gets to Seacaster Manor safely. Once she’s there, she and Fabian have a bit of an awkward beat and then Mazey, who has clearly misread the situation, tries to make out with him. Fabian pulls back which makes Mazey confused and embarrassed. Fabian really quickly tries to reassure her that it’s not that he didn’t wanna kiss her. He’s just not in that mode right now and she’s in danger and they’re trying to kill her. She has NO idea what he’s talking about so he Facetimes Riz and the Mordred crew to explain. Mazey says that killing her wouldn’t make the killer the new Principal–it’s not Pokemon Champion rules. But Riz says that every person who’s had the top spot has been sidelined or killed so it’s safer to be careful. Maybe killing her would prompt an early election and whoever wins will be promoted early. She asks if this suspicion is just because they hate the Rat Grinders and Riz says that they have good reasons to be suspicious. They are all outraged though when Mazey says that the Ratgrinders famously hate them and have since Freshman year. [Hilarious that they were apparently publicly seething and haven’t been on the BK’s radar at all.]
Anyway, Mazey says she appreciates the concern but rushes to leave, embarrassed. Fabian tries to salvage the awkward encounter and tell Mazey that his reaction was about how stressed and worried he is, not about how he feels about her and Mazey seems genuinely concerned about him. Like, as a person. Is he eating? Is he sleeping? Is he being cared for in this big empty house? Fabian musters some bravado about how he’s a legend and the legend continues but it’s mixed in with some super obvious red flags about making his house a place people want to come to so he won’t be alone. Mazey says she’d still want to hang with him even if he wasn’t a Maximum Legend and then leaves to his cavernous, home, solo.
Back to Adaine! Her next big roll is Mystery and she wants to learn about the giants and their gods. She uses a portent to get a 27 (which she needs because clues cost more right now) and here’s what she learns:
So first off, Ruvina is a Seasonal god (Winter) vs Sol, Helio, Cass, and Galicaea who are Celestial gods (Sun, Moon).
A bridal gift would only be given to the spouse of a sibling so that means that the missing dead god is Ruvina’s sibling. Brennan specifically mentions how hard/weird/complicated it would be to be prevented by Oblivati Mori from speaking of a spouse or sibling.
There’s no mention of the missing god but there are mentions of the OTHER seasonal gods so Adaine can determine by process of elimination that the missing god is the summer one.
She wonders if Sol or Helio stole the summer domain since they’re sun gods but Brennan said if they did, it wasn’t in one violent act. There’s no obvious crusade or anything like that.
There is a certain point where “Sun” starts being capitalized like a name (like how in the Bible God is He not he).
The bridal gift is only mentioned in early texts, not recent ones. Recent texts have a lot of mentions of fire.
She doesn’t find any text concerning the gods followers. She does however find text that says “Beware the blades of the red fire”. These seem to be connected to the shatter star rage crystals but there's no clear timeline of them showing up once the god died. It seems like they existed at the same time.
So, a lot of info but no big Aha! moment yet.
She rolls Work for her third track and fails so she takes a stress token (up to three now). She only rolls well enough to not get fired (which, girl, just get fired! Make money another way! Ask your newly caring sister for some funds and don’t ask where she got them!).
Lastly she rolls to relax but fails (been there girl) and has a deeply unsatisfying massage given to her by Lydia.
Kristen is up next and her first roll is Popularity (makes sense) on the middle schoolers (you lost me). In fairness to Ally, there is method to their madness. They said in the Adventuring Party that the idea was that the school is across the street from where the bodies were found so maybe they could do some recon. Still, on the face of it, bonkers plan and Riz is low key wondering if his mom was right about them picking the wrong candidate. Anyway, she passes and now has advantage on charming any new middle schooler she meets lol. Brennan also makes her roll Perception and on a 14 gives her nothing. Ominous!
The second thing she’s interested in is Relationships and she wants to talk to Lydia and also Buddy. With Lydia, she wants to know if there’s a way for them to talk to Bakur. Lydia says that Bakur is conscious and aware but she can’t talk to him because it would compromise the security of his gem prison. However, if they come up with a safe way to talk to him she’s game to participate, especially since she’ll def be a target if stuff with Bakur’s god is going down. Lydia also mentions that it seems like Cass might have been especially vulnerable in the Astral Food Court which makes Kristen even more suspicious of Kalina than she already was since she was the one who suggested that plan in the first place.
Riz does Detect Evil on Lydia with his necktie so he can recognize Bakur’s magical aura on anyone else in the future and Brennan says that will also give him the ability to recognize anyone connected to Bakur’s god in the future. (Riz also says he wants to do the same on a Helioic cleric and the moon, presumably for the same reason but he doesn’t explicitly get to it this session).
They then check on Fig to try to figure out what the heck her deal is and they find a lot lol. There are four main things happening with her aura. The strongest is the anarchy sigil on her forehead that marks her as the Archdevil of Rebellion. The second is her burgeoning paladin rage aura which matches Lydia's but seems more fiery and is also unaligned. The third is her warlock mojo which is unaligned as well. And the fourth is the lemony yellow aura of her curse. Her being a tiefling doesn’t even crack the top five of what’s going on with her apparently!
Anyway, on to her second relationship thing–Buddy. Kristen finds him putting a Rat Grinders sticker on her locker which she peels off, clearly annoyed. There are three main important parts of that conversation which are as follows:
Kristen asks if there’s any rage talk happening at the Helioic church right now and Buddy says that Sol is angry–lots of people left the church during the months of night situation which makes sense. Worshiping the sun god during eternal night feels like a losing proposition.
Buddy thinks it would be a great idea for his grandpa–Helioic evangelist Bobby Dawn–to become the new Cleric teacher to save everyone from going Pass/Fail. Kristen thinks that sounds like a nightmare and I have to agree. Buddy says that it’s fine because the cleric teacher has to worship *some* god, right? Might as well be Helio. But we know that’s untrue because Yolanda gave up her active connection with a specific divinity in order to minister effectively to her whole class. And I can’t imagine whoever raised Buddy would make a fair teacher who’s welcoming to all faiths.
Buddy wants to “take Kristen into counsel” about her brother who he thinks is going down a dangerous path as he’s being exposed to various worldly elements at Aguefort. I have no idea what Buddy considers a dangerous path–for all we know Bucky is actually fully fine and coming into his own. Buddy offers to take Bucky under his wing and Kristen casually but very firmly says, “I’ll never let you do that.” [She really should check on him though, just in general.]
They close the conversation off with some faux cheerful/polite sniping about how Kristen’s god died again (point Buddy) that ends with Kristen saying that Cass will come back again as opposed to Helio who only came back once (point Kristen!). [She also tells Buddy, as she’s wont to do, that she met Helio and thought he was a total frat boy loser–just mentioning it in case it comes up again. He seems pretty sure that Kristen will come around though. Tres prodigal son.]
Fig’s turn! She aces her Paladin, Bard, and Warlock classes–A+ across the board. [She gets to roll her Bard class at a DC 5 even though it’s her second track for reasons Brennan doesn’t tell us. We also learn that Lucilla Lullaby is now on sabbatical after her conversation with Fig. Girl, go to therapy.]
Anyway, Fig is working with Porter and Zara and they want to talk to her. She’ll have to pick her pact soon and though she’s doing really well, they’re not quite buying that her powers are coming from her deviation to Cass or doubt. Porter recognizes that protective, German Shepherd energy in her and when Fig floats rage (protective rage) as what’s motivating her, he has a positive reaction. Him jumping on the rage thing would already be a little suspicious but the next thing he says is, "If there was some other power like that that you knew could support Cassandra, [and] was connected to your friend Kristen, maybe that's a worthwhile thing to explore.” And I very much want to know if that’s a Porter nudge or a Brennan nudge because that really sounds like he’s hinting towards Cass’s sibling. Incidentally, Porter is an Oath of Ancestors paladin and an earth gensai since we’re keeping track of affiliations.
For her next track, Fig wants to roll Mustery and ooh boy, Nat 20!
Here’s her bonkers/genius plan: She disguises herself as Wanda and boards a bus she knows Ruben will be on from all her recon. Adaine casts Nystul's Magic Aura on her to make sure that any detection spells will ping as whatever they want them to and not Fig. When Ruben boards the bus, she says that when she made a hasty exit after the festival she was breaking up with her boyfriend and when he asks what music she’s listening to, she shows him a fake episode of the Complicated Women Podcast about Lucy Frostblade. Ruben is instantly rattled and starts looking for the podcast but “Wanda” says it was an early release episode she got because she knows the producers. She lies and says they’re talking bout how they found Lucy’s body and Ruben says he used to be in a party with her. When Fig asks what she was like, Ruben speaks positively of her. She says she was noble and stuck to her guns. He’s really itching to get more info about the podcast and Fig says that she’ll send him the MP3 if he gives her an email. Ruben gives her Lola’s email (They have SOL instead of AOL in Solace) and his cell and then Fig Dimension Doors away, mysterious as ever.
For her final action, she tries to roll Relationships for Riz but she doesn’t roll high enough to catch him with how busy he is. She still leaves him a nice note and signs it from Gorgug. In response to that, Riz sends back a very long, gushy text that’s so grateful for the check in. Gorgug has no idea what he’s talking about but returns the gesture by making him an Artificer Infusion: A Medal of Wit which gives advantage on Int checks and throws for an hour (one time use). Cute all around!
Let’s close out the episode with Fabian. Popularity: 29. He’s maxed out the track. Any stranger he meets at Aguefort is charmed by him for a minute. He gets a neck tattoo that says Maximum Legend. For Mystery, he wants to check in with his dad to ask about Hell/Curse stuff (but he clearly mostly just wants to hear from his dad). He fails and takes a stress to succeed with the help of the AV Club. Skrank and Shellford help him set up a little broadcasting booth that can reach the Nine Hells assuming Bill has the correct equipment. He tries to broadcast and the equipment is working correctly but Brennan rolls a 3 in front of the board so he gets no response. He speaks into the void about how he’s a Maximum Legend while in his house, utterly alone.
He rolls for Fighter: B. He rolls for Owlbears. Fail. He rolls for Bard–the DC is 25 and he gets a 24. He’s at four stress so the next token will be a rage token. The table persuades him to take Fig’s cursed Bardic instead. He gets a single point which gets him to the 25 which is a D. Then Brennan gives him a Con save. He fails. Brennan says that, with that fail, he loses control of an important bodily function. He gets to choose which one it is and in front of who like a nasty game of Clue and…look. I’m gonna try and say this as delicately as possible but Lou is not making this easy for me. Lou’s decision is that he will lose control of his bowels in the middle of bard class. That’s as far into it as I’m gonna go–if you want the gritty details you’ll have to get them from the man himself.
Terpsicore, his teacher, is very supportive and kind about it, but one of his classmates, Quincy, takes his lute and breaks it, calls Fabian a Maximum Loser, and quits Aguefort on the spot. He headbutts the door, making his head bleed, and says, “I fucking hate this school!”
Which, on the one hand, valid sentiment to the latest bout of (almost literal in this instance) Aguefort bullshit. But headbutting the door to the point that he’s bleeding? Sounds a little bit like rage star effects to me. Is it connected? Or was this just the last shitty straw for Quincy? We’ll have to tune in next time to find out!
Honor Roll
Fig for Her Clutch Investigation Skills
Fig has honestly been killing it just in general lately. A pluses across the board? What a GPA jump! But I have to particularly commend her for skillfully keeping Ruben on the hook the way she has. This is maybe her most perfect ratio of bit to plan so far. It’s so funny but also going so well. And that Nat 20? Chef’s Kiss.
Detention
Lou (the player) for Describing [REDACTED]in Graphic Detail
I don’t care if Quincy was affected by the rage star or not. He was right. That *was* nasty.
#Dimension 20#dimension 20 spoilers#d20#d20 spoilers#fantasy high#fantasy high spoilers#fhjy#fhjy spoilers#spoilers#the report card#no extra thoughts today because I am exhausted and we are getting this one in later than I'd hoped#halfway through folks!
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fuck it, guess we both aint' shit
a/n: sorry this fic took so long y'all i am so slow when i write. for context, i solely write before i go to bed and pass out with my phone attached to my head this was a request a while back when i was still active in bg3 circles lol so its been going for MONTHS at this point. i dunno how folks crank this shit out that's like a super power. anyways im playing skyrim now!!!!! im working on two fics, one skyrim and the other f:nv, because i love love loveeeee beatrix russell and also want my ttrpg character to have several enjoyable moments in her sad life. stay tuned! it may be a while for those to come out, so i appreciate y'all being patient. coops accent in this story is based on my own, im from the Appalachian region of virgina!! just to note we tend not to say the first letter of words. at least that was my accent and my experience each southern person will be different :)) please enjoy and let me know if you have any ideas, i'm always grateful for those.
ps. sorry for the long a/n lmao
(my doc says this is 19 pages!! my longest to date lmaooooo.)
general notes: named insert (fo1 character!!), doc is brown :))), i tried to stay pretty neutral with gendered language but doc has a pussy and boobs (sorry for being vulgar. it helps to specify their parts so you know what you're getting into) as always its a smut, and ooc cooper, i'm getting my feel for him, drugged sex, cannibalisim as a metaphor, barely disguised breeding fetish, restraints and rope play.
During the warmest months of a farming season you often asked yourself, why.
Why did you decide to choose NCR sharecropping in the first place, and what made you so god damn lucky to leave Nevada alive.
You had started off a trek from the high walled dunes of the new republic’s deserts for a more opportunistic place in Colorado. High walled mountains kept off raiders, but kept in heat and snow. So you worked tirelessly on the outskirts of a small settlement, modeled after a historic town out of a western film.
Recently you received Brahmin from a trade deal which made planting significantly easier to do.
Brahmin dung was also good for another thing as well.
Jet.
Your tidy lab always stunk of fertilizer and smoked out herbs, this was a small production thing so the allowance to vary was there. You sun-dried the patties first, stacking the briquettes between bushels of dry and wild herbs, this would be burnt out and condensed into pressurized containers, if not mixed with a bit of water for easier spray abilities.
This is where your actual money came from; compared to that farming was a hobby. You had a regular client coming in for a shipment. This one-a favorite of yours for a bit. Perhaps not for his “aesthetic appeal” though his sallow and gaunt skin holds echoes of the handsome man he was previously.
No..
You liked his voice (though faux it was), and his bright teeth(stained with a yellow, making them seem more manilla if anything), the way his hat held over his brow (you could never see his eyes), the perch of his thumbs tucked into his belt (an odd position at that.), and the corners of his smile lines. With each step you took towards him, the professional in you took five steps back. You had half a shock at one point to care for him when he randomly appeared piss drunk at your step. The way he curled into you as his speech slurred, or the odd way he made himself comfortable on the couch.
He told you you smelt nice that day. You sent him along with a packet of sober up pills and hangover meds.
You pressed down on the seed bed with a glove tugging at the carrot rooted in the Rocky soil.
“Sonofabitch!” You cussed out as you tugged. You took a couple more stabs at the dirt again, loosening the ground around it.
Your breathed in the deep blue sky surrounded by miles of mountains, the plains you resided in like the bottom of a welded goblet.
You wiped the sweat off your brow, the chunky glove absorbing most of it. You tugged up the loosened carrot and tossed it into a small bin filled with produce. You stood up brushing off your overalls of excess soil.
You carried the bin off, jumped by a hoarse whistle from the pasture.
“There you are sweetheart!” He held a hand over his head, in greeting.
“Hey you!” the ghoul gave you no name, so you referred to him in vague suggestions.
“You certainly arrived early! What's the occasion? Could you help me with one of the baskets, Hun’?”
He trotted over, the click and jingle of his spurs followed behind him. He hoisted one over his shoulder with ease. “Am I not allowed to see my favorite doctor? I found myself wandering about the area, supposed I'd drop by…I do know when I'm not welcome though.”
“It would be awful rude of me to not accept your company.” You teased in return. He rolled his eyes, lugging the bins of produce to be sorted and sold up your porch steps.
“Need a place to stay?” You didn't look up, as this generally came as a routine question.
“Same as always.” He confirmed, stomping off the dirt from his boots.
“Mind me changing then, hun?” your words didn't reflect affection, but showed shallow familiarity in them.
He shrugged, “‘pose not, m’ gonna have a smoke on the porch.”
“Take your time” you nod, trudging up the creaking and faded wood stairs.
You weren't sure how to approach him, he had shown signs of interest previously, walking in on your out of the way showers, leaving things for him to come back and collect them, paying more caps for his shipment than usual. To be fair, you definitely indulged him- at one point you had complained about your water resource being devoid of warmed water. As you padded around with soaking skin and a fluffy towel, and a grumpy expression cemented on your lips.
All this teasing didn't help those dreams, they started when he left an extra shirt from his pack. This one was dark and ragged, a change from his gray stained cowboy shirt with tassels. It smelt like him, and deeply so. You were ashamed to admit that you used it to pleasure yourself for a period of time. Eventually your breath stained the shirt and it no longer smelt like him; that was a depressing day indeed.
You had handed the item back to him, he took it with a thin smile. I'm glad you took care of it.
Weeks after an item of yours went missing, then returned in odd places. Socks, a camisole or two, most egregious was from your hamper, two pairs of bloomers you intended to clean. It was an unspoken agreement, an item exchange of sorts, perhaps he sought companionship on the heat stained road.
To admit your affections weren't returned was a vague understatement, he had propositioned you on several occasions often asking to meet late at the barn, he was quick to release offering a thank you by allowing you to squeeze and grind down on his fingers as he cleaned the spent cum with a tossed aside shirt. It was always one of yours.
Those moments were short, maybe if you offered a comfortable environment he'd be willing to play pretend.
You tugged off the flannel that stuck to your sides, unclipping the overalls and tugging them over your shins. Your bones popped as you stretched, peeling off the soaked undergarments in exchange for one less distracting. The air was cool against your skin, you took a wetted rag from your ceramic basin and cleaned down your sweaty skin. You tossed the dirt stained clothes into your hamper: sucking in air between your teeth. The outfit you decided on was a loose button down, soft cotton slacks with a silver button, and some leather sandals.
It wasn't your most dashing look, but it was an easy one, something to throw on as the sun began its track down.
+
You ate in silence, spoons clicking against cracked porcelain bowls. The stew was filling as per usual, but you kept your head down.
He looked much more red with the checkered table cloth in front of him, his jaw working as he pulverized the food in front of him.
The ghoul in front of you quirked a brow “you ain't becoming feral are ya? The rate you're scoffing supper down. I'm fraid to be your next meal!”
“No m' just thinkin’. Tend to eat fast when I have lots to ponder.” you held the spoon to your lips tilting it and passing the savory broth over your tongue.
The older man set down his spoon, a bit of confusion racking his brow. “yaint got much to think about. What a chemist n all. You're just plugged into all them formulas ,ain't you sweet pea?”
You grunt in somewhat acknowledgement “I guess”
The lower rooms in the evening became sticky hot without the curtains drawn, bright sun flames the sides of the buildings and glinted off the tarnished metal buckles and beads on the cowboys outfit.
“Well.” You rose holding your empty bowl, the click of metal under porcelain still droning on at the other side of the table. “I'm pooped, I think it's time to retire to my room. Do some unwinding, the works. Goodnight, sir. “
You turned to leave, setting your bowl in the open kitchen sink, the ghouls voice interrupting your thoughts.
“Hey doc- I got an odd request.” The cowboy began. “Have you ever tried jet?”
Cooper hesitated for once, feeling your warm skin beneath his palm, the way your pulse sang when he touched you.
“You sure?”
“Yeah.”
His thumb traced the corner of your mouth, lips parted delicately to taste. He had you pinned as you sunk into his figure, one hand flattened on his breast the other hanging limply at your side. You cupped it around the side of him, allowing him to move in close.
He watched your eyes wide and dilate, your already oh so large pupils eclipsing your iris’s.
This must've felt like light years away for someone not as attuned.
Your breath washed against him, his nasal cavity picking the strong sickly scent of jet on your tongue, he could taste you in the back of his throat.
“Tell me if anything is too much, as much as I seem gruff, I do desire the lady folk having an equal amount of fun.”
You hiccup and nod, “yeah I understand - yessir.”
“You don't try your own stock, doc?” He tilted his head, carefully leading your jelly body to the bed.
“Jet ain't my choice- I usually go for day tripper. Slows you down a lot more, so I do it during sunny days. Things change and you can enjoy a lot more “ you talked with your hands he often noticed, but here they flew without meaning, like a puppet with cut strings.
“Mmm.” He mused, a sound of recognition. He shut the bedroom door, the low light of the sun spilling in dappled puddles through your window. He kicked off his boots, placed them in a corner and set his heavy overcoat and hat on a chair.
“Once again, are you sure? Is this what you want?”
He was hesitant to approach, leaning over you with one knee on the soft mattress. The springs creaked under the shift in weight.
“You certainly know how to make a girl beg for it.” You joke, cracking a half grin.
“Being a tease comes with the territory, sugar.” he tucked a curl behind your ear, cupping your cheek with the rough palm of his hand. He listened to your breath flutter; that hit of jet has fucked you up.
The rusted iron bed frame creaked under his shifting weight, mindful of your soft limbs as he coaxed your legs apart to hang on his hips- Your hair bloomed outward on the pile of cotton and straw pillows. eyes laden with a hazy glow that reflected the golden light.
Your breath fanned over his face- sweet, tangy and rich. Your tongue swiped in-between your cracked lips coating them with a coating of spit, they glistened in the low golden sun.
Your hand, weathered from soil, caressed his cheek with all the gentleness of a rose petal. He crooned and leaned into you, you were much more inviting of his touch, a satisfied “hmph” as what remained if his lips landed on yours.
Your hands found the back of his neck pulling I'm into you.
You felt soft, curling around his jagged edges like water droplets on a sky light. His fingertips tingle with electricity.
You huffed tilting your head slightly, grabbing onto the collar of his shirt. Your skin pooled with heat, his thumbs finding the underside of your breast. He cradled your tap dancing heart between two palms. Your lips found a clumsy rhythm; one that he found nostalgic. It was easy to imagine being young with you, you made it look effortless.
You pushed him away- cheeks stained a bright rosy pink as you gulped down air like an odd looking fish. Curls laid on your cheeks sticking up on odd and random places, if he was a much kinder man he would've tucked a strand behind your ear, issuing kisses that traced to your nose. You cracked a warm, half-smile; your hand finding a place under his cheekbone.
You wheeze out quickly, coughing up fumes of jet; sputtering like a broken down car. “Your name-” you finally got out, “I never got your name.”
There was sincerity in your eyes, innocence even- perhaps a hope that this wouldn't be another one-night stand.
Perhaps today… he would allow himself to fly too close to the sun. For once- to bathe in the bright warm of comfort, the wholeness of companionship; the milk of human kindness.
“Cooper.”
“Cooper.” The sound rang off your cherry pink lips held by ivory teeth and a fleshy velvet tongue. “Cooper.”
“And yours?” He asked quietly.
“Just doc is fine.” You purse your lips, the joy that rang off your tongue snapped close like a heavy lid of a jewelry box - hiding the treasures from sight. You formed a slight business-like manner to your tone.
He nodded curtly, shifting on his elbows to drape himself over you once more.
He worked the buttons of your shirt off. helping you out of the loose cotton shirt- he licked his lips intently. It was truly an oasis of flesh to his gaze.
He whistled low, his fingers twitching and buzzing- aching even, just to get a feel of the soft warm skin beneath him. “Arnt you the prettiest thing I ever did see” his voice was a lowered rasp.
The warm sun pooled below your sternum and held your face dearly. The lace frame around your pillow held up your portrait.
The bounty hunter listened to your heart beat away in its cage. He then sat back on his haunches and dragged his fingers down your sternum.
“Such pretty, soft skin “ he cooed. The nail in his finger digging into the surface leaving a trail of raised skin behind it. You wiggle at the prickling sensation on your skin. What game was he playing?
He took an inhale as his palms cupped your shoulders and scooted down your sides, repeating in an almost massage like motion. He repeated the same kneading motion with your chest, a low sigh coming from his lips.
He was used to an exchange or dance of sorts when it came to these circumstances. A relief of hand, or the jingle of caps in some woman's back pocket. The road has taken a toll on his aspect of companionship, for once he found himself slightly stupefied except for the notion to touch you.
You melted into his warm palms; your eyes fluttering shut into relaxation.
“Are you comfortable Cooper?” You broached the awkward silence of sighs with unease.
“Doing just fine sweetheart, you relax now.” the vaquero chides; flicking your nipple as a slight retort. You tense at the sensation though unpleasant as it is enjoyable.
The ghoul unbuttoned his vest, tossing it aside and leaving him in that faded vault tec cowboy shirt and pinstripe trousers. He loosened the top few buttons of his shirt, a bit self conscious of his form without all these layers. You blink slowly, re-assembling to settle your thighs around his hips. His kisses smudged your lipstick, cupping your jaw in one hand- the other cradling the pillow behind your head. you lean into his egging, lifting your neck for his teeth to graze.
His tongue was the first sensation. licking a stripe up your collar broke you out into simple goosebumps. You close your eyes against the sensation of him latching onto your skin. One of his hands caressed your chest, the other held your hip- squeezing it gently. He left indents and bruises to litter your skin, a mauve flush of patchwork on your neck. As His bites ran below the collar- he shifted position. He kissed down your chest, marking a spot right above a mole. Dipping his head lower His tongue swirled around a nipple taking it into his mouth.
The other was treated to the same palming while his other hand busied itself by burying into his boxers.
A bittersweet image flooded his mind. As a younger man himself, he would take many lovers. Holed up in some trailer room on a daybed, lips puffed and tight pencil skirt tossed to the wayside, it left you cloaked in a mussed bone white blouse with a bow at the neck. Dark black heels dug into the velvet beneath your ass. The tight stifled moans- the ferocity of your grip- the way you offered to not ruin his set costume.
Your glasses would slide down your nose as he coos would split you wide open like a piece of log.
These dalliances were savory before married life, a taste he'd like to try again.
He found himself switching, adjusting hands, welcome to an exasperated sigh of frustration from your lips.
“Cooper” sounded off like a prayer, the rock of an ocean wave as he navigated down your sternum.
He hooked a finger under your waistband- you burned brighter than any field of irradiated waste. “Now's your chance miss.” he hummed, stroking the sides of the scrunched fabric.
Much to his chagrin, you nodded. A warm sickly sweet feeling of familiar warmth crept up the walls of his stomach. Was it pride? Longing?
Whatever it was, he stared down the barrel of his would be nose. He wet his lips like a wolf about to blow down a stick building- and certainly, most certainly, he would make a meal of the javelina inside.
Carefully he unwrapped you, laid bare before him your skin bristled underneath the heat of his hand. He sighed again for emphasis, the flashes of you in that scenario warmed the back of his mind.
Another indulgent idea as his fingers skimmed against your hip line. His brow furrowed as he watched your eyes flutter shut again.
Chaps pushed to under his knee, boxers and Levi's still clung to his thigh. In this he was a bit older, the sleepy dream holding an air of youth from the way you bit down on his hand and hesitated to fully sheath yourself onto him. In quick staccato motions that angled for just the right spot sent your teeth sinking into his hand. Your legs shook slightly as the tip of your heel curved around his calf. A careful balancing act
His hands traced patterns onto your clit absentmindedly- bowing down to steal a slow kiss every once in a while. He was careful, he wanted something decadent.
He kneeled at the altar between your hips, for he was but a man.
He bit down on the flesh of your thigh, prodding your entrance with a finger- he sucked at the indented wound. Lifting up your thigh he left marks underneath the skin of your butt. He worked on opening you up- sliding a finger into you easily. You held eye contact, rolling your hips against his thumb and hand, figured in a pinching motion. Just one tug of the thread and he had you spiraled out.
The air was laden with the heavy silence that wasn't the crackle of an obscure motown album. He added a second, your body rippling out like a Newton's cradle at the sensation.
“Coop’ shit-” were the first words you said in a bit.
“Talk to me babygirl, can only do so much while my hands are busy.” He curled his fingers massaging the spongy tissue beneath their tips.
“Coop-!” you whine again, leaning into the hand that cupped your face.
Your brow was furrowed in concentration- moving your toes to avoid the muscles of your leg locking in place.
“Are we just fond of sayin’ my name, hm? C'mon pretty girl, tell me whatcha like me to do.'' He growled, kissing the corner of your mouth, the side of your nose, up to your furrowed brow.
He kissed back down your chest, kissing the flesh of your thighs.
He began his game of chicken- cupping your back one thumb drawing circles into your sides.
“Tell me.” He urged.
his lips drew near your throbbing clit heat pulsing in waves from your legs.
“God, you're really having me do this?” you puff up a bit, embarrassment settling into your skin.
“Ain't no shame in being polite, sweetheart.” He chides “your parents teach you manners? Now am I gonna spell it out for you or what?” His tongue dipped between your folds; tracing light circles around the bundle of nerves.
You hissed like a tea kettle, bending the knee for better access. “Please sir.” Your tone was condensed as you struggled to keep composure, or lest you break in your bed partner's nose a bit more.
“Please what, be specific sweetheart.”
your warm palm squeezing the back of his head felt just right
You swore under your breath, mustering the courage from the depths of your stomach, sacrificing your bruised pride in return. “please I'd like to- like you to eat me out.”
“What a sweet girl, perhaps I'll reward her for being so polite, hm? What do you think doc.” He grinned, flashing the aged and manilla teeth in his maw.
You deflate, nodding your head in almost defeat.
The ghoul hummed in approval- his fingers once stilled began to tap dance happily against your inner walls. He wove himself into you, mouth latched firmly onto your clit- his dark blown eyes flashing up to your reddened face every once in a while.
Your thighs framed his head. He had lifted one over his shoulder for better access to your core. Your legs hooked around his neck, trapping him closer.
The sound of slurps made your stomach twist into hard knots. Contented and pleasured groans fell around you- sending small vibrations to your clit. You held onto his bicep, after a while he offered his other hand.
To be eaten alive by another man was only discussed in the late hours of the evening. Cigarette smoke drawn from his teeth hissing away like a steam engine as you talked. You felt consented like one humming giant beast.
The cartilage of his nose bumped against your clit as he went to taste you. Squeezing the delicate fingers of yours pink, he pressed his hips into the mattress trying to relieve some pressure.
“Coop’! holy shit-!” He felt your walls contract around his hand, clamping down in them. He was quick to remove himself leaving you sullen and empty
Partially to stave off an orgasm from how nimble his fingers could be. Years worth of repairs means one getting good at tasks like sewing.
“Tsk tsk tsk. Can't have my baby spoiled yet.” Cooper tutted stealing a peck from your lips.
Your lips formed a whine as he sat back licking his fingers clean. “Ain't right if I can't have some fun too, hm? Ain't that right, sugar.” His lips twitched into a smirk as he unclasped his unruly belt wiggling down the rough denim over his ass and thighs. He splayed his legs and sat back on his haunches, eyes flicking back up. He wasn't bigger than average, but he was certainly thicker. A pert and red head with pulsing green veins that ran down the side. his legs and hips were surprisingly less marred than the rest of his body, resulting in just a light texture on his cock.
“You're awfully quiet now sweetheart, see something you like?” He teased, prowling his way back up your form, his lips mapping the thin and light scars on your smooth skin.
He slid his member along your folds bumping his head against your clit. “Ain't you just hot n’ bothered, hm sweetheart?”
He could feel you trying to squeeze down around nothing desperately looking for something to work on your arousal with.
“Roll over for me, pup.” This came out as a snarl, a harsh command from the sweetness he usually treated you with. He spat into his hand. Rubbing it along his shaft as a makeshift lube.
You laid there ass exposed to the warm light. Your knees pressed into the mattress below.
The cowboy readied his condition to be that of a sour patch kid, enticed to show vulnerability but apprehensive enough to snap. A high emotional state for him.
He watched your ass bounce as you turned, your head cushioned by your pillows. You stared at him from behind. Those big eyes of yours would be the inevitable death of him. He filled a palm with your flesh squeezing it gently before quickly smacking it.
The force made it jiggle again, the sounds of the slaps sounding sharp and sour. His warm hands palmed the fullness of your reddened ass rutting himself between your cheeks.
“God I could just cum just like this, all over this gorgeous ass of yours.” Cooper sighed, bending forward for a better angle.
“‘s your choice” your voice slurred- giving away the concentrated effort not to beg like a bitch in heat.
His hand was quick, the slap left your skin tingling. “I don't take backtalk well miss. If there's something you want, we ask for it- politely. The ncr hadn't brought back the old worlds manners with it as well I see. I’ll make a respectable woman out of you yet.”
You snorted, “ain't no manners when you were raised with a gun in your hand. I'm not a common whore from the strip. I'm an educated whore.”
“Damn right.” He growled with a swift serving of pain to your ass. He pinched it and jiggled it slightly. He stopped for a moment in a split decision, bowing his head and kissing the skin under his hand, “sorry.” heaving a sigh from the bottom of his chest. “ It's a shame this gotta end so soon.”
“You don't have to go just yet coop’” you attempted to reassure the older man “you can stay at my place if you'd like. Didn't know you were having this much fun tossin’ the sack. Seemed…casual to me.”
“I'm only human, ain't we supposed to be social creatures doc?” his hands smoothed over your back. The gesture was meant to be reassuring, a peace offering beforehand.
“ ‘pose so. Alright then, I don't get how this relates to you fucking me raw soon.” you teased, turning your head to the side of a pillow to gaze back at him, a slight coyness to your lowered lashes.
“It ain't.” his mouth fused mostly together into a wide and glistening smile, seemed a bit wider- cheeky almost. “Since you asked so nicely…” he trailed off, the head of his member rubbing against the folds of your entrance. “What was it you wanted? Gee I don't remember- maybe the radiation is getting to me after all- you're gonna have to remind me.”
You shoved your hips back in a retort- trying to capture all of him just from the sensation of his members head prodding your entrance.
“Oho!” He chuckled softly “getting feisty aren't we.” You felt the warmth behind you fade. You looked back in confusion. The vaquero bowed, kissing a splotch of red on your ass. “Eyes forward, doc.” He commanded, and so his will, will be. Behind you he rustled, searching for something, he hummed quietly once he found it, his lasso. The ghoul fastened a hangman's knot at the end of the rope tying it between your ankles and knees. Another loop and knot at your hip then over a shoulder and under an arm. So when he pulled back he would pull all of you. He went back to rummaging, pulling a pair of stockings out of your sock drawer, loosely tying them around your wrists, an odd touch of care considering that the rope already bit at your skin. “Now are you gonna behave? Or must I do this the hard way.
“I'll certainly try my best” you tilted your hips up, popping your back. “Can't promise much from one so ornery as myself.”
“Well then if you act up I'll just cum on your ass. Fair deal?” he spread your lips apart, broaching your entrance. His other hand dipped in front of you pressing down on your stomach to avoid initial cramping.
You gasped and grit your teeth. “fair deal.”
“Ain't you a gentleman then coop, your hands quite a nice temperature”
“Thank you” he purred, adjusting his hips as he sank into you, “just the polite thing to do when you don't have lube.”
His hand shifted to your clit, pinching gently at the sensitive nub. Heat bloomed like hot house poinsettias at your core. He grunted at your walls clasping down and memorizing everything about him.
“Ain't you nice and tight.” The cowboy hummed, wiping at his brow. “This is gonna take forever if you don't relax.”
And oh God did you feel wonderful. Tight to the center with just a bit of friction enough to cling onto him.
“Ain't much relaxing to do when you're pumped up on jet.” You lowered the floor of your stomach trying to accommodate his length.
“Ain't that so? Just looks like we’ll have to do some forcin’ huh?” He shifted his hips out ever so slightly and eased his way back in. Slow and comfortably, he manually stretches you out. You moaned out into the pillow beneath you, leisurely thrusts scraping against your walls. You clung to him like a glove, his balls merely tapped against your vulva. A warm soreness hit the back of your core as he tugged the rope down onto him.the fibers bit your sides, neck, and hips, searing their marks of claim onto you. He leaned forward, the sink slow but hitting the back of your cervix, your sex made a soft squishy sound as he hit hilt, panting like a feral mongrel dog.
“God I hope this is what heaven feels like-” he sighed, rolling his hips.
The cowboys sunburnt peach skin flushed a blotchy red around his cheeks. “m gonna come to visit more often- just to cum in this pretty hole of yours.”
“You've got an awfully dirty mouth coop’” you teased, sneaking a smile behind the round of your ass. This wasn't the first time the older ghoul had asked for favors, but always always always he cried like it had.
“not true, I followed my momma's instructions to brush my teeth every night” his grin peaked to the side. Hand quick as a flash landing itself on your rump, you let out a little oof.
“your momma did a piss poor job then..” You retort, lowering your chest to hit a more connected angle.
His knees settled down in-between your thighs. Spread apart with the rough indented and textured skin of his bare skin.
He settled back in his calves, his hand lazily finding its way back to your clit massaging it in small pulses, pinched beneath his thumb and forefinger.
With his hips settled back, the top of his head slid against one of your sweet spots, sending pulses like a fiddle string down your spine.
You burrowed deeper into the pillow, stifling the moans that threatened to spill from your lips.
He held a hand to your side that was surprisingly gentle. He bowed his head and curled inward- kissing the small on your back.
“This ok with you? May I get a little faster?” the ghoul has asked.
You let out a grunt of approval, backing your hips fully on his member. At this pace you became playful lifting your hips at the last second, eeking soft whines of content through his teeth. He tipped his head back, coopers warm hands snuck under the rope to brace your hip.
“Agh, fuck.” The rasps he made ached in your throat. “Darlin I can't do this, flip over.”
and so you did.
Between his ribs there settles a faint green glow, like some sort of demented lightning bug.
Cooper worked at getting the lower ropes off your legs allowing some freedom, but kept the ones that framed your chest. Your hand tied up to the bedpost like a malfunctioning bungee cord.
“There you are.” The ghoul cupped your cheek, his thumb drew small circles into its hollow. You laced your legs behind his calves as he entered again, precoating your walls with pre-come.the cowboys eyes became half lidded and fluttered, he was going insane just being inside you. His hips were an attempt at a measured pace, speeding up every once in a while to keep you on your toes.
The older man leaned down to kiss you, his lips and hands clung to you with a sense of rushed intimacy. The smell of your sweat clung to his rope and to his skin promising domesticated life of sorts, if he just stayed.
You hitched your knees up above his hips, the edge of the bed thumping into the wall behind you. Cooper leveraged himself a bit more sinking in quickly making your thighs sting.
He quickly rutted his hips, the ghouls hands cupping your contorted face as clicks of irradiated sweat fizzed around you.
You felt light headed, a dull throbbing pulsed through your mind. You could barely keep your eyes open to hold contact without them shutting or rolling back in their sockets.
“Coop-” you whispered, “holy shit I'm close- you're gonna break me sweetheart -”
“Ain't that so? That's a shame hm? That you have to wait?”
“No-” you whined, clenching your jaw “no please- coop- don't-” your mind ran like a panicked rabbit instinctively rocking your hips back down. Sticky sweat clung to you, droplets sidling down your hips like a rain shower. You sounded exhausted, covering up your eyes with an arm as you continued to mindlessly back into him
His hand drew circles on your hip, moving up to your lower belly and pressing down. Cooper raised his arm up to wipe the sweat off his brow.
“Want you to feel every little sensation.” His tone was staccato and clipped. “God you're so tight- enjoying yourself huh?” his smile grew as he watched you melt into a puddle before him.
“Coop-” something ripped out of the bottom of your chest, vicious and animalistic, you barred your teeth, squeezing around him taut as wire.
The cowboy was relentless, teeth sinking down into the alcove of your neck monitoring the fogginess of your pupils
The light flooding the windows with gold sunk down to a murky violet, a bright orange sun sitting center on the smoky horizon like an unfried egg.
“I'm so close, baby.” he pleaded in a soft tone “just a bit more.”
Your grip tightens on him. “Coop I can't-” your sentences slur, your mind cramping from a quick release. Your walls pulse repeatedly. Your lips pull back, framing yellowed gritted teeth.
He leans back, Pawing at your chest on his haunches. His hips patterned like a bumpy ride on a caravan, a two tap system as he stretched through the tighter ring near your cervix. Everything in his mind screamed to knock you up, a sham of the biological drive to have children and settle down. He would hope the call of domesticism would be satisfied by orgasm. A measly offering at best
He leans down, licking up the side of your chin and gathering a drop of sweat. He groaned softly, his hips jutting and staying there for a second. Your walls cramped down around him begging for another release. His hips slowed to an easy trot, keeping the pace steady and easy on your walls. His head curled into your neck, wheezing quietly like a ghoul on the verge of ferality. Cooper throbbed and pulsed, knotting his limbs into yours. You could feel every ridge and crease of him inside you, memorizing it like a map.the sides of your walls stung with arousal and numbness from overstimulation, it was a very fantastic and overwhelming sensation.The older man groaned into your ear as you squeezed down again on him. Completely entranced by the way you felt around him. His lower lip jutted out as he chewed at the side of it. His eyes were soft round and watery, bright white sclera seeped with yellow and red in their inner corners. The bed creaked softly underneath the relatively gentle rocking. The ghoul kissed up your neck, keening out into the crest of your ear. “God I think I may come sooner than expected” he grunted nibbling on the outer shell of your ear. He felt like he left orbit, and his skin set aflame. He set his body flush against yours, the lower half of his belly pressed against your clit. You flinched at the sensation, shooting lightning bolts down your thighs and heating up the already soggy air around you. Your legs peddled and extended down intending the sheets, flexing around his hips to tugging at the mix of stockings that held your arms back. Cooper's movements became a lot more quick and erratic, slamming himself down to sheathe his length fully, crying into the alcove of your neck, he shook as he wheezed our breaths of submission to the will of domesticity. He pushed his hips forward, the ropes of cum painted your walls. He pinched his lower base and jerked off into you, pressing everything into your folds. The ghoul then lowered his head and kissed you, the hiccuping sensation of rocking his hips back into yours due to a stimulant that was so salivating to him.
“God, doc. What a trip, and what a treat you are.”
“Have I made you a changed man, cooper?” you could barely keep your eyes open a fucked out sort of exhaustion taking hold
The older man shrugged, “I'll sleep on it and consider.”
He sighed, reaching over for a towel that lay on the ground and pulling out, and cleaning you up. He tossed the towel again, and landed himself next to you. “c'mere’ I'm not evil enough to leave you short handed.” He curled around you, his hand fitting in the crease of your hip. And that's where he stayed until dawn.
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Hi again! Thank you for your in depth answer about Esteban yesterday, I appreciate it! I've fallen down a rabbit hole of watching videos and interviews, thank you for also linking a few! It has definitely been an interesting ride so far!
What I've seen and comes shining through from your answer as well, in regards of his relationship with his parents, is a very determined but also humble appearing man as a character. From the public point of view that we have, it's very fascinating to see how Esteban seems to genuinely care about fans, workers and those that even dislike him. I have seen that clip you talk about with the person meeting him, telling him they didn't like him before and him going to question it in this "but why??" way of rooting us back in reality of some sort, like he's aware of how he's perceived, accepted it (or not necessarily accepted it - I have read his instagram statement about the recent hate, which is also led me to questioning stuff again) and just tries to make the best of his shot at the game that is f1.
I've never did as much of a deep dive on him, just always accepting he's kind of there ... you know.
I guess it's also an indication his character as a whole that he continued being friends with Stroll after being replaced by him, I had never really thought about that but it does make me think Esteban is holding people dear to his heart in a somewhat unconditional way. I think (atp I've seen a whole lot, my word) I've seen him say something along the lines of "there is the racing and there is our friendship" which is interesting because he is often portrayed, imo, as someone that just stubbornly and uncaringly pushes ahead, fuelled by his background that surprisingly often gets told in a negative tone. But this is another example of him actually being able to emotionally separate his career low from his friendship.
Oh god I feel like I'm writing a whole essay in your inbox, I better wrap this up...
Thank you again, you really started a deep dive evening for me yesterday! There's much to consider still but he's made himself more likeable to me with the gentle help of your words too.
Oh, anon, this message really warms my heart! I am so happy to hear that you've been able to find some positives about him and some reasons to potentially like him in the future. Again, if you don't end up liking him, that's okay. At least you gave him a chance instead of just following the pack. Huge kudos to you for that!
Yes, his friendship with Lance is a huge deal considering he lost his seat to him simply because of money and Lance's dad buying the team, therefore the spot. He's made his comments about it but he never held it against Lance which is pretty incredible. I think he's a big boy who realizes what the world of F1 really is: cold, heartless, strictly business. And he's always respected that even though he has worked through so much to get here and stay here.
There was a quote from him I saw recently where he talked about crying when he lost that seat and it being the lowest point in his career, but now that he's been back in F1 he is "always happy" because he is just grateful to be here. That's why he is always smiling, so he says 😊
He also very frequently talks about all drivers deserving respect because of what they go through to be doing this. The training, the pleasures they give up, the privacy they give up, the pressure, everything they deal with in the car, ect. Regardless of how he feels about any of them personally, he begs everyone to respect them all at the very least for what they do.
People do see his style of racing and label him as aggressive, stubborn, an asshole, ect. Some people even take it as far as ripping apart his personal character and then even getting quite racist which is just disgusting. It's not surprising, but it's very disappointing. The sort of attacks he gets are incredibly unwarranted and disgusting and not a single person in this world ever stands up for him. He hardly ever stands up for himself. Like, almost never. The statement post Monaco was more than I thought we would get from him to defend himself which means he got worse shit than even I saw. He usually just let's people think what they think and keep on going, but it was bad enough that it struck his heart and he couldn't, and it really broke my heart and made me so sick for him.
Esteban is very lovely to his fans. One of the best on the whole grid imo. He's also a fucking nerd. He has yapping disease, he bounces on his feet when he's excited or in anticipation. He loves Spiderman and Marvel (and killed it on a grill the grid sort of challenge recently that asked him all Marvel questions). Hes very different in the car vs out of the car. But in so many ways he is also the same. I think his heart is very prominent in everything he does.
Again, he is definitely not perfect, but nobody is. I'm glad you've been enjoying your deep dive and I would love to hear from you again in the future as you continue down! It's lovely to hear your insight and always feel free to share videos and such with me as well. I personally love the video of him and Pierre eating the British snacks, I think it puts both of them in a really silly, sweet light and it makes my heart happy. I would highly recommend that one as well.
Actually, here you go! I hope you enjoy and hope to hear from you soon. Thank you so much for following up!!! 🩷 🩷
https://youtu.be/MraYxamdByM?si=Io9UScgBeWeiNEw1
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The Road Ahead - ch 6 | Frankie Morales x female reader
Series Masterlist
Previous Chapter
For most of your married life, you dedicated yourself to waiting for Frankie. After each deployment, you patiently awaited his return, longing for the moment when he would be by your side again. During those nights when nightmares consumed his thoughts, you yearned for him to open up to you, hoping that he would find solace in sharing his pain. And as his addiction spiraled out of control, you held onto the hope that he would recognize his problem and seek help. However, despite your countless protests and pleas, you now find yourself waiting for him once more as he ventures off to Colombia, engaged in God knows what.
But this time is different. Determined, you make a solemn promise to yourself: You will never wait for Frankie again.
Rating: M for Mature (18 + no minors allowed)
Word Count: 9K (Sorry T.T)
Warning: Applicable for the entire fic / PTSD, drug use and addiction, postpartum depression, abusive familial relationships, self-hatred, unhealthy coping mechanism, explicit sexual content, violence, mentions of suicidal thoughts, super angsty
Chapter Summary: Summer without your husband. You don't know what to except for the months ahead with Frankie away in rehab, but you know you want to learn who you are again.
Notes: Hey everyone, thank you very much for the support for this fic, it means the world to me to see people liking, reblogging or commenting!!! This fic is approaching the end unfortunately, as much as I love these two together, it was always meant to be on the shorter side. Since its my first ever story, I wanted to see if I could stick to a story without my mind fizzling and apparently I can ! SO HURRAY! I am anticipating 1 more chapter and 1 long epilogue after this.
I've already started working on fic #2 and #3 and I will be posting the summaries/ series masterlists later tonight or tomorrow morning :) I was also thinking on opening a poll to ask which stories you guys want me to do first.
But in the meantime, hope you all enjoy this chapter !!!!
A Change of Season
MONTH 1 - JUNE
"Are you sure, Alma? I don't want to impose on you too much..." you ask hesitantly, internally hoping Alma will agree to your last-minute request.
"Nonsense, mija. It's my pleasure. You know how I always enjoy spending time with Estrelita, and it gives me a chance to spoil her rotten. Truly, it means the world to this old woman that you trust me to stay with your little Princesa." Alma responds warmly.
Relief washes over you as you let out a grateful sigh. "Thank you so, so much, Alma. I hate asking so last minute, but my boss just called me to cover this Saturday since I have to take Ella to get her shots today. And I know Ella would be thrilled to spend time with her favorite abuela.”
Alma Vargas Morales snorts angrily on the other end of the line. "I can't believe those pendejos would make you work over the weekend like that. As if baby shots could be re-scheduled like a nail appointment! I'm tempted to march over there and give them a piece of my mind!”
You can't help but let out a laugh, picturing Frankie's spirited 72-year-old mother storming into the Florida Community College library, grabbing your boss by the ear, and dressing him down loud enough for the dean of strudents to hear. You’d pay good money to see that. “But seriously, Alma, I can't express how much I appreciate this. You're a lifesaver.”
"And you are an amazing mother, mija..." You can hear Alma taking a deep breath on the other side of the line. "Not many women would have done what you have for your daughter and your husband."
"Alma..." you begin to interject, but she cuts you off.
"No, mija. Francisco was so out of line he couldn't even see the line anymore. I didn't raise my son to act like this, and you are way better than he deserves at the moment." Alma's words carry a mix of frustration and disappointment.
Alma takes another breath, her voice softening. "I love mi hijo, I nursed him, took care of him when he was sick, I saw him grow from a shy little boy into a handsome and self-assured man. But he was never really happy until he met you, mija. Now, es el momento de que Francisco se arrepienta de sus pecados." Her tone finishes somberly.
You're left speechless, both deeply moved and unsure by Alma's sudden outburst. The woman had always been strict but loving. When Frankie was young, they didn't have much. His father died young and without insurance, leaving Alma alone to raise Frankie and his two sisters. But Alma had done her best to provide for her three children and give them every opportunity she could.
Now, Frankie's younger sister followed in her mother's footsteps as a nurse, while the eldest had become an accountant before deciding to stay home with her own children. Alma was a strong woman whom you had always admired. When you first met her, she had looked at you for only a couple of seconds before grabbing you by the neck with her tiny yet stout stature, pulling you into a tight embrace. "Thank you for taking care of mi hijo, God knows that knucklehead needs it! Just like his dad, that one is! " she had whispered in your ear before releasing you and playfully swatting Frankie's head. "What the hell was that for?" Frankie had exclaimed.
"No decir groserías," Alma had answered, her gaze piercing Frankie. "That was for hiding this lovely girl all this time and for not minding your manners. You haven't even offered her anything to drink yet!" Frankie rubbed his head and muttered, "Esta es tu casa…"
"Qué dijiste Francisco?" Alma questioned sternly.
"Nada, Nada," Frankie quickly replied, trying to diffuse the situation.
Throughout the entire interaction between mother and son, you had held back your laughter. But as Frankie's cheeks turned pink, he made his way towards you, and you couldn't help but think that you would love to be a part of this family. Since that day, you had loved Alma, and she had become the mother figure you had never truly had in your life.
"Alma, whatever happens between Francisco and me will never have any repercussions on your relationship with Ella. I would never take her away from you or your family. Ella is a Morales, and you can see her whenever you want," you assure her.
On the other side of the line, you hear Alma's sniffles. "Maldito Francisco, eres un estúpido muchacho," Alma mutters, her voice filled with frustration. "Francisco has made a lot of mistakes, but the one thing he didn't mess up was marrying you, mija."
"Gracias, mama. I promise that whatever happens, Ella and I will always be there," you express sincerely.
"Gracias, mija," Alma replies warmly.
"Is it okay if I drop Ella on Saturday around 7:30 am? I have to be at the library by 8:15," you ask.
"Of course, es muy perfecto! I'll make my famous tostadas!" Alma responds enthusiastically, her excitement palpable.
You can't help but let out a laugh at Alma's enthusiasm. "Alma, you know that Ella is just 5 months old, right? She won't be able to taste your famous tostadas for a while yet."
Alma lets out a huff, acknowledging her oversight. "I got ahead of myself; I suppose."
"I'll pump some milk and have it ready for you in her bag," you suggest. After a brief pause, you add, "Will you call me to tell me how everything is going?"
You can hear Alma's affectionate tone as she responds, "Mija, I'll send you updates every hour on your phone, with those messages things you kids always send each other. You don't have to worry. I've raised three babies, and they all reached adulthood, although some have made questionable decisions."
"Thank you so much, Alma. I really appreciate it," you express gratefully, feeling a sense of relief knowing that Ella will be in capable and loving hands.
"ESTRELLA MORALES!" The loud voice of the tall brunette clad in blue scrubs resonates through the large waiting room.
"Sorry, mama, I have to go. It's Ella's turn," you whisper urgently into the phone.
"Te quiero, mija. I will see you tomorrow morning."
Quickly, you close your phone and grab the stroller where Ella is peacefully napping. Gathering your belongings, you ensure that everything is in order before hurrying after the nurse. As she leads you into a smaller room, she introduces herself. "My name is Coral, and I'll be administering the vaccines for little Ella today," she says, reaching for the files on her desk. "I see she is here for the DTaP-IPV-Hib vaccine. It shouldn't take too long."
Coral glances inside the stroller where Ella has woken up from her nap and is looking around anxiously. "Well, isn't she a cutie? Hello, baby," Coral greets Ella warmly, taking out a bright pink rattle and shaking it in front of her. Ella responds with a delighted laugh, momentarily distracted from the unfamiliar surroundings.
"All right, mama, I'm going to need you to hold your baby while I give her the shots. She won't like it, as few babies do, but I'll be as quick as possible," Coral informs you, her professional demeanour evident. She briefly scans the page of Ella's file before her eyes narrow slightly. "I also wanted to confirm something with you. I only see one signature on the parental form, but there is a Francisco Morales listed on Ella's file. Should we be made aware of a change in the files?"
Your heart drops at the insinuation, and a mix of emotions floods over you. "Frankie... I mean, Francisco is Ella's father," you explain, your voice tinged with a touch of defensiveness. "He is currently unable to sign off on the documents due to personal reasons, but I promise he is 100% supportive of every medical decision I make for Ella."
You realize that you're frantically trying to justify yourself to this stranger, feeling the weight of judgment and the need to ensure that Ella's well-being is understood. Coral looks back at you, then at the file, before letting out a sigh. "Look, I'm not trying to trick you," she begins, her voice filled with a mix of empathy and professional concern. "But as medical professionals, we have a responsibility to ensure that the environment at home is safe for Estrella. You understand what I'm saying.” The mere mention of home safety sends a chill down your spine, the silent threat of involving CPS clear in Coral’s tone.
With a knot forming in your stomach, you gather your thoughts and respond cautiously, your voice betraying a hint of fear. "Yes, I understand," you manage to say, trying to keep your composure. "I assure you that Estrella's home environment is safe and loving. We prioritize her well-being above everything else, and we take every precaution to provide her with a secure and nurturing space. My husband is just… unavailable right now.”
Coral glances back at you, her eyes narrowing slightly as she processes your response. "As you say," she acknowledges, her tone carrying a hint of reservation. However, her sunny disposition quickly resurfaces, and a warm smile returns to her face. "All right then," she says, her voice brightening. "Shall we proceed with this little shot?”
MONTH 2 - JULY
You sit outside, enjoying the warmth of the sun on one of the only free benches in front of the library building. With a tomato sandwich in one hand, you type a message to Mrs. Hu, asking about Ella's day so far. Almost immediately, Mrs. Hu responds by sending you an adorable picture of Ella on her belly, reaching for her favourite cat plushy, a big orange thing with oversized ears and fuzzy white paws. It melts your heart, and for the 100th time, you can’t help but be amazed at the wonderful being your love with Frankie created.
Frankie... Oh, Frankie. Today feels bittersweet, as on the one hand, you hadn’t thought of him too much, but on the other hand, you felt guilty because you hadn’t thought of him that much. Some days are almost unbearable, as your mind becomes entangled with memories of… memories of everything before it all went to hell. You replay moments: the goods, the less-than goods and everything in between. But still, all these moments were what made you and Frankie a team, a partnership. It was a life you built together. Still, you couldn’t help but question your actions and wonder if anything could have prevented the events that unfolded over the last two months.
Yet, dwelling on these thoughts only serves to torment you further. Now when these thoughts surface, you try your best to follow the guidance of your new therapist. You try to let the memories wash over you like rain on an umbrella, try to let them come, accept them without letting yourself be ruled by them. But they persist, stubbornly clinging to every corner of your mind. It's a difficult battle, and despite your earnest efforts, grief and longing persistently infiltrate both your waking hours and restless nights. The weight of it all hangs heavily in the air, casting a sad shadow over your life. You yearn for a bit of reprieve from the ceaseless ache that Frankie's absence has left behind. But today is a good day. So far.
The blaring alarm on your phone abruptly interrupts your lunch break, signalling that it's time to return to work. Hastily cramming the last remnants of your sandwich into your mouth, you briskly make your way toward the imposing building. Upon reaching the entrance, you make your way to the help desk, where you settle down and begin reviewing emails and addressing various queries from staff and students.
As you open the first email, which seems to be part of an infinite pile (how is this possible after just half an hour?), your attention is diverted by the approaching figure of the library director. A distinguished-looking older man, his hair hangs in wispy white strands, lending him an air of wisdom. His tweed suit, more reminiscent of academia at Oxford than the sunny locale of Florida, accentuates his scholarly aura.
"Sweetheart, do you mind coming into my office?" You can't help but cringe at the nickname. You've never been fond of the nickname. You were initially uncomfortable but later learned from Roberta, another librarian who looked like she was born between the bookshelves, that he addresses everyone this way. Annoying and reductive, perhaps, but ultimately benign. And honestly, apart from the cringeworthy calling, Director Robertson is an amicable presence with no noteworthy complaints.
"Of course, Mr. Robertson. Would you like me to come in now?" "Yes, please," he says, his fingers delicately twirling his long mustache, "I know you've just returned from your lunch break, so I presume you haven't embarked on any new tasks yet." Captivated momentarily by the whimsical sight of his mustache dance, you acquiesce and rise from your desk before placing a sign that reads "Keep reading - Be back in 15 min." Trotting diligently behind your boss, you traverse the expanse of the library, guided by the soft glow of sunlight streaming through the windows. Finally, you arrive at his office nestled at the rear of the building, granting an enchanting vista overlooking a courtyard where students are rushing to their next classes.
Director Robertson gestures toward the plush, cushioned chair positioned in front of his grand wooden desk, silently inviting you to take a seat. With a touch of unease, you settle into the chair, your hands nervously intertwining in your lap. There's something about Director Robertson's stern grandfatherly demeanour that always makes you feel like a scolded child in his presence. Seeking solace, you follow the advice of your therapist, taking a deep breath and counting silently (1-2-3), before releasing it slowly, allowing the tension to dissipate. Untangling your hands, you place them gingerly on the armrests of the chair. After all, sometimes you have to "fake it till you make it," right?
"What can I do for you, Director?" you inquire, maintaining a composed facade despite the underlying nervousness.
"AH! That's what I appreciate about you, dear!" Director Robertson exclaims with a hint of enthusiasm. "You don't beat around the bush, and you don't try to kiss my ass like everyone else around here!" His words, while somewhat brash, sound genuine.
"I am glad to hear it, sir..." You respond, feeling a sense of perplexity. The sudden shift in conversation catches you off guard, leaving you momentarily lost.
"How is that little girl of yours? Your little baby, right? How old is she now?" Director Robertson inquires, a touch of warmth underlying his words.
"Ella, sir. She's just about 5 months old," you answer, a fondness evident in your voice as you think of your daughter.
"Still so young! Ah, well, you still have a couple of years before she becomes unbearable. I've had 5 of those, my dear, and let me tell you, it doesn't get easier," Director Robertson responds with jovial teasing, his words laced with a sense of seasoned experience.
"Right, well hopefully I'll survive the tween years unscathed," you respond, trying to match Director Robertson's teasing tone.
Director Robertson bursts into a hearty, full-bellied laugh, his amusement filling the room. He reaches inside his desk, retrieving an official-looking letter. "Do you know what this is, dear?" he asks, a gleam of anticipation in his eyes.
"I'm afraid not," you reply, your throat suddenly dry with anticipation.
"This is a job offer that the University of Florida sent me last week for the directorial position in their library," he reveals. Your heart skips a beat. The University of Florida—the dream institution. Positions like that were nearly non-existent, as it seemed their librarians were born and died at their posts, passing the torch down the line.
"That's amazing, sir! You must be really happy," you exclaim, genuine excitement resonating in your voice.
"Well, I declined the offer," Director Robertson confesses nonchalantly, his words causing a mixture of surprise and confusion to wash over you.
"Oh, but why? The University of Florida has some of the best facilities in the state, and the salary must be significantly better than what we have here. And the access to all those books—it must be incredible!" You can't help but let your tone drift into wistfulness, envisioning the possibilities.
"I'm sure it is, but I'm reaching a certain age, and I promised my wife that we'd retire in her family's home in Capua," Director Robertson explains, a hint of nostalgia colouring his words. "Let me tell you, deary, I'll take Capua, Italy over the University of Florida any day. And you know what they say: 'Happy wife, happy life,'" he playfully scrunches his nose. "Make sure your husband remembers that dear," he adds, teasingly.
A heavy rock settles in your belly at his words, but you manage to smile through it. "I'll make sure to remind him," you reply, masking any personal turmoil beneath a veneer of cheerfulness.
"You better. Men sometimes need a good whack on their head to remind them that they would be nothing without their wives," Director Robertson remarks, his fingers fidgeting with his mustache once again, as if deep in thought.
"I'm sorry, sir, but I'm not sure I understand why I'm here," you ask, your uncertainty evident. The words hang in the air, seemingly snapping the older man back into focus. His pale blue eyes settle on you before a secretive smile graces his face.
"Because when I said no, I recommended you for the job, my dear," he reveals, his voice carrying a sense of pride and hidden intentions. Your heart stops, the revelation jolting you with disbelief.
"You... You... You did what?!" you stammer, your voice escalating into a screech. Heat surges through your body, from head to toe, as a mix of shock and astonishment overwhelms you.
"Deary, you've been here for how long? Seven years? And in those seven years, you've completely revamped this library," Director Robertson calmly begins. "All the programs you added for the students have made this place thrive. The faculty-based librarian assistance program was a stroke of genius if I may say so. And the digitalization of our database was an incredible achievement that completely propelled us into the 21st century."
He pauses, allowing his words to sink in. "There was no one I would have felt comfortable recommending, as it is my name on the line. But you, my dear, I know that you have the capacity to make anything your own and make it shine."
The weight of his words hangs in the air, the realization of the immense opportunity dawning upon you. Director Robertson's faith in your abilities washes over you, mingling with the heat that had consumed you moments ago.
"Now, you don't have to accept, of course," Director Robertson remarks, his tone understanding. "The university is about an hour's drive from here, so it would be quite the commute. But it would come with a hefty pay raise." With a swift motion, he slides the papers across the desk, urging you to take a look.
You turn the papers over, and your eyes widen as you see the figures before you. An 8 followed by another 8, followed by a series of zeros that threaten to make you faint. It's more than double your current salary, a staggering amount that fills your mind with all the possibilities that would come with such a raise. "That's... That's a substantial amount of money," you whisper, the words barely escaping your lips. The weight of the figure displayed on the paper sends a shiver down your spine, leaving you momentarily speechless.
"Indeed, deary, indeed," Director Robertson affirms, his voice filled with a sense of reassurance and pride.
"I can't believe it; I don't know how to express my gratitude. Sir, I am so incredibly thankful for this opportunity!" you exclaim, a mixture of excitement and nerves coursing through you. "Should I send an email to someone? Who should I reach out to? Should I prepare for an interview? Oh my god, what about my work here?”
Director Robertson's smile remains warm and comforting. "Please, don't worry about your current work here. I have every confidence that Jocelyn will step up and shoulder her fair share of responsibilities. As for the university, they already have all your information and will soon send you a comprehensive email with all the necessary details. At this stage, any interview would primarily be a formality, as I know without a doubt that you will excel.”
You rise to your feet and extend your hand towards Director Robertson, gripping his hand firmly. "I promise, sir, I won't let you down. I will do my best to be deserving of the trust you have placed in me," you affirm with determination, your voice filled with gratitude.
Director Robertson's eyes soften even further, reflecting a genuine warmth. He clasps your small hand in his wrinkled, larger ones. "There's no need to worry about any of that, my dear. Just go out there, impress them, and let your radiant spirit shine like the sun," he kindly encourages,
Tears well up in your eyes, and with a small, trembling voice, you squeak, "Would it be too presumptuous to ask for a hug, sir?"
Director Robertson's kind smile widens, and he extends his arms, inviting you into an embrace. As he wraps his arms around you, you inhale the comforting scent of old cotton and pines, a fragrance that exudes reassurance and kindness. "Thank you for everything, sir," you murmur, your voice filled with gratitude.
"You deserve every bit of it, my dear. I don't think you fully understand the immense potential that resides within you. If you could truly see it for yourself, you would be unstoppable," Director Robertson assures you, his words resonating deep within your being.
Unstoppable. The word dances in your mind. You like the sound of that.
MONTH 3 – AUGUST
“Estrelita, my little love, I wish I could give you the biggest hug in the whole wide world. Even though Papa is away, please know that you're always on his mind. Let me tell you my all-time favorite story, the one your abuela used to tell your tias and me when we couldn't sleep. It's called "El Conejo y el Coyote," and it starts like this; Una vez el coyote se encontró a un conejito y le dijo….”
Frankie's voice fades as he skillfully imitates the rabbit and the coyote on the recording. Ella seems entranced by the story, yet unsure to hear her papa's voice without seeing him there. You've developed the habit of playing the recording at least once a day for Ella, so she can always be close to her papa, even when he's away. And if you're completely honest with yourself, you also play it for you. Even after all this time, hearing Frankie's voice still makes the butterflies in your stomach flutter.
Frankie's letter remains unopened on your bedside table. You haven't been able to open it yet. You don't know if you will. As much as you miss Frankie and hope he's doing well in rehab, you still don't know what you'll do when he leaves at the end of next month. You know he'll be allowed visitors as of next week, marking three whole months he's been there. But you don't know if you should go if you're completely honest with yourself. You know Ella has to go, that's not even a debate. But should you?
Alma is also unsure if you should go, stating that with your new job and the new hours, you should focus on yourself and Ella. She kindly offered to bring Ella with her when she goes for his weekly allotted visitation time. You might take her up on that offer.
Frankie's voice comes to a stop, signalling that the story is over, and Ella appears heartbroken. You notice her bottom lip flutter angrily, and her face turns red. Unable to resist, you chuckle and say, "Don't get mad peanut. Do you want to listen to your papa's story again?" With a smile, you walk over to the recorder and press rewind, filling the air with Frankie's voice once more. Ella's clapping and happy expression from her playpen make your smile widen.
Currently, she is nestled on a mountain of soft pillows, engrossed in playing with the play gym you got her when the rattle lost its appeal 3 weeks ago. It's hard to believe she's already in her sixth month—time has flown by, and she has grown so quickly. The thought nearly brings tears to your eyes. Ella is determinedly reaching for one of the planets hanging from the chord, but her little arms fall just short of grasping it. You laugh at her expression of determination, reminding you of Frankie and his own determined expression when he was working on revamping an old beat-up mustang, he got at a garage sale.
However, your thoughts are abruptly interrupted by a rapid succession of knocks at your door.
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK
"Coming!" you bellow loudly, making your way toward the door.
You open the door and are greeted with Benny's grinning face, in one hand holding a 6-pack of beers and in the other holding a toolbox. You roll your eyes and say, "You didn't have to bring anything, Benny. You're helping me, so I should provide the beer."
Benny smiles and replies, "Don't worry about it, sunshine. I had to make sure the good stuff would be here."
Teasingly, you inquire, "Are you doubting my beer selection, Benny?"
He lets out a laugh and says, "Nah, not you. Just Fish. You know he drinks that watered-down piss that passes for beer. I had to make sure there'd be something with more substance available."
"You're such an idiot, and you know I have tools, right? Frankie's got the locker full of them."
You scratch your head in embarrassment and continue, "I just don't know how to use them, that's all."
Benny laughs and says, "I can't in good conscience use another man's tools. Those things are like sacred, you know? Can't go around and mess up Fish's system or whatever."
You look at the large toolbox and see the name "W. Miller" written in large white letters on the front. You snort, "So that's why you took Will's tools?"
Benny's ear turns slightly pink as he responds, "He's my brother, everything that’s his, is mine or whatever."
You roll your eyes playfully, "All right, well, can I offer you one of the beers you brought then?"
Benny replies, "Nah, not right now, sunshine. I've got to be on my A-game to fix your shit. Where is it, anyway?"
You lead Benny toward the bathroom, where the fan is closed. Flicking one of the two switches, a loud groaning noise emanates from the top of the shower.
"The fan is busted. Now when I take a shower, I turn the whole place into a sauna. And I'm getting a bit afraid that mold or mushrooms are going to appear, you know? The landlord said he was going to fix it, but it's been 3 weeks with no answers. If Frankie were here, he would..."
You stop yourself, not wanting to finish the sentence.
"Anyway, I told the landlord that if he provided the materials, I'd fix it, and here we are."
Benny smiles and says, "Shouldn't be too hard. Are you ready to play assistant contractor, Sunshine?"
You snort and reply, "Sure, boss. Lead the way."
Benny puts the toolbox next to the sink and goes to inspect the damage. You hover around the door, keeping an eye on Ella who is still in the same position as earlier, now listening to Frankie tell a story about two volcanoes who fall in love. The scene brings a smile to your face.
"Hey, assistant, before I get started, do you mind shutting down the electricity for the bathroom, so I don't become Toasted Benny?" Benny asks. You nod and reply, "Sure, give me a sec." Making your way to the electrical box, you turn off the power in the bathroom. On your return, you quickly check on Ella, who is still determined to grab the hanging planet. You smile and give her nose a tiny kiss before making your way back inside the bathroom.
"All closed, Ben," you inform him. Benny responds, "Awesome. Can you grab me one of the adjustable wrenches? It should be on the top of the box. I'll just take out the old fan, disconnect the wiring, and fit the new fan inside. Should be all done in an hour."
You nod and pick up what looks like a wrench, though you're about 73% sure it's the right one. You ask, "Is this okay?" Benny extends his hand and says, "Yep, all good. Give it here." You place the wrench in Benny's hand, and he smiles at you, saying, "See, you aren't so hopeless. By the end of today, you're going to be the best assistant contractor in Florida."
You smile at Benny's puppy-like excitement and reply, "Sure, Ben, sure."
You watch Benny diligently work on the fan, removing the old moldy contraption. He lets out a whistle at the sight and exclaims, "Fuck, when was that thing installed? The fucking Stone Age?"
"Pretty sure caves weren't equipped with centralized electricity," you quip back. Benny looks down from his elevated position on top of the bathtub and retorts, "Ha. Ha. Ha, aren't you clever." You give him a broad smile and reply, "I know, right?!"
"Why don't you be clever over there and throw that old fan away," Benny suggests. You nod and reach for the old fan, making your way toward the bin. As you do, you hear Benny shout after you, "Make sure to bring back the new one!" You roll your eyes playfully and respond, "I'm not that clueless, Benny!" A loud chuckle echoes from the bathroom as you head to the counter where the shiny new fan awaits. Your eyes briefly glance at Ella, and...
"BENNY, BENNY, COME HERE QUICKLY!"
You hear a commotion coming from the bathroom as Benny stumbles out, panicked. "What?! What's wrong?!?!" he exclaims. You simply point to the living room carpet, your eyes filled with happy tears. "Look!!!" you say, barely able to contain your excitement.
Benny follows your gaze and looks down to see Ella on her belly, attempting to crawl toward the coffee table where the recording of Frankie has stopped playing. You urgently shake Benny's arm. "Quick, quick, grab your phone!!! Oh my god, she's never crawled before, Ben!!! I have to film this. Quickly, my phone is in the bedroom, grab yours!!!"
Benny's eyes widen with a mixture of astonishment and joy. Without wasting a second, he retrieves his phone from his pocket and opens the camera “Go to her! I’ll be your own cameraman!!!”
You smile warmly and swiftly make your way to Ella, crouching down next to the coffee table as she momentarily pauses in her crawling. She looks up at you with tired yet determined eyes. "Come on, my little peanut, you're almost there!" you cheer, feeling a surge of pride and excitement. In the background, Benny chimes in with a playful exclamation, "Let's go, Ella! Show them who's the best fucking baby in the world!"
You shoot Benny a disapproving look, and he responds with a sheepish smile. "Sorry, Sunshine, I'm just...so excited!" he says, his words stumbling out of his mouth. Rolling your eyes, you turn your attention back to Ella. "Come on, peanut, you've got this!" you encourage her, your voice filled with loving adoration.
Ella's determined expression, so much like Frankie's, reappears on her face as she resumes her crawling. Benny and you continue to shout words of encouragement, your voices filled with excitement and pride, as she inches closer and closer to her destination.
Finally, Ella reaches the coffee table, and without hesitation, you bend down to grab her, gently scooping her into your arms. Overwhelmed with joy, you give her a crushing hug, unable to contain the immense love and pride you feel in that moment.
"You did so good, baby. Mama is so, so proud of you!" you whisper, your voice filled with pride. With a tender smile, you softly nuzzle your nose against Ella's. Ella coos happily in response, her little sounds of joy filling the air and further melting your heart.
You bring your face up and turn towards Benny, who is still holding the camera, a hopeful look in your eyes. "Did you catch all that, Ben? Wasn't she absolutely amazing?" you ask, eager to hear his response. Benny's face lights up with his signature megawatt smile, and he exclaims, "SHE WAS GREAT!!! Ella, you are just like a shooting shining star!!!”
Benny continues, his excitement contagious. "Now, proud mama, you got anything to say to the camera?" he prompts. With a radiant smile, you twirl around, holding Ella close to your heart. "Only that I've got the bestest little peanut in the whole world!" you declare with overflowing love and pride. Ella lets out a happy squeal in response, and the sound of Benny's laughter echoes in the background.
MONTH FOUR – SEPTEMBER
Frankie found himself seated at one of the picnic tables outside, overlooking the tranquil man-made pond in the rehab facility's backyard. Nervously fidgeting with his fingers, he’s been reflecting all morning on the past three and a half months he’s spent here. His mother had eagerly awaited the fourth month when visitations were permitted. However, Frankie had approached the session coordinator and asked for a delay in visits. Despite his deep desire to see his mother, sisters, daughter, brothers, and… You, he didn't feel emotionally prepared for it. Not yet.
The day before September 1st, Frankie had experienced a crippling panic attack that left him completely incapacitated. The following morning, he gathered the courage to stride into the office of the head therapist. Once there, Frankie had explained to him that he needed more time before he would be able to face anyone. Dr. Stevens had smiled and told Frankie how proud he was that he was finally setting boundaries and acknowledging his limits. If there was on thing Frankie’s time in the rehab had taught him, it was the value of recognizing his own needs, a lesson he had never truly internalized during his years in the army. He had become so accustomed to unquestioningly following orders, regardless of the harm they inflicted on him, that he had forgotten that he needed to care for himself and listened to his needs sometimes.
During therapy sessions, Dr. Stevens had emphasized the significance of listening to Frankie's own desires and engaging in introspection. The therapist pointed out that, by consistently ignoring his own wants, Frankie's inner turmoil found an outlet through self-destructive behaviours. Dr. Stevens believed that if Frankie started paying attention to his own needs and delved deeper into self-reflection, the compulsion to numb his pain with cocaine might gradually diminish, even if only minimally.
Frankie sighed heavily, his hand sweeping across his face as he noticed a mother duck leading her adorable ducklings across the serene lake. These past few months had undoubtedly been the most challenging period he had ever faced, and Frankie had been shot multiple times before. So that’s saying something. Confronting the stark contrast between the person he believed himself to be and the person he had become, all while battling intense withdrawal symptoms, had left him feeling lethargic during the initial weeks.
Throughout his life, Frankie had always viewed himself as a provider, a dependable man on whom others could rely. Memories flooded his mind, particularly the day his father passed away when Frankie was just a young boy. He vividly recalled how, the day before his father's death, the man he had admired for his strength and dedication to his family had called upon ten-year-old Frankie. "Francisco," his father had spoken with pain, surrounded by the incessant beeping of medical equipment, "I need you to take care of your mother and sisters when I'm gone. You will be the man of the house, and it's your responsibility to look after those you love."
Frankie had internalized those words and earnestly tried to fulfill his father's wishes, caring for his mother, sisters, and eventually you and Ella. However, in the end, he felt that he had failed spectacularly. When he confessed these deep fears to Dr. Stevens, a wave of vulnerability washed over him, tears streaming down his face. The older therapist regarded Frankie with a sympathetic expression, moving closer and offering a tissue.
"You haven't failed anyone, Francisco," Dr. Stevens reassured him, gently patting his back. "Yes, you've made mistakes, but now you are making the right choices and striving to make amends. You don't have to live up to any expectations or face external pressures alone. Your focus should be on taking each day as it comes. As long as you care for your wife and your little girl, it will be enough. I am certain that if they were here, they would tell you the same."
Then, Dr. Stevens had Frankie make lists. A list of the things he was most afraid of:
Loosing you and Ella for good
Seeing his brothers die
His mother never forgiving him
Dying before he could see Ella grow up
Not being the man, his father wanted him to be.
Then a list of all those he had hurt,
You and Ella, the two persons cherished the most.
Ben, Will and Pope, the brothers who counted on him and whom he let down.
His mother who didn’t raise him to be what he his today
Tom, whose life was lost due to the choices he made.
Himself himself
Then a list of all he regretted
Lying to you, betraying your trust.
Bringing drugs home, staining the sanctity of the home you built together
Taking your love for granted, failing to appreciate you.
Keeping himself closed off, unable to fully express his emotions.
Shooting first Causing Tom’s death
After finishing the lists, Frankie was instructed to go back to his room and engage and reflect on what he had written. Left alone with his thoughts, Frankie delved into the profound weight of his past actions and the far-reaching consequences they had on the people in his life.
Even though it was incredibly tough, Frankie drew strength from imagining you and Ella right there with him, offering unwavering support. Your smiles and hopeful expressions fueled his determination when he felt overwhelmed and tempted to give up.
Frankie knew how crucial it was to take his recovery seriously. He understood that unless he fully committed to it, the chances of winning you back would dwindle. But it wasn't just the fear of losing you that pushed him forward. Deep down, he genuinely wanted to change. He wanted to be a better man, not just for you but also for himself. He didn't want to be that scared and dishonest boy anymore.
Frankie was well aware of the pain he had caused you, and he acknowledged that the drugs were only a fragment of the larger issue. He understood that his actions stemmed from a deeper problem — his reluctance to open up and reveal the parts of himself he found most fearful and repulsive. The mere thought of you looking at him with disgust in your eyes was unbearable to him.
Deep down, Frankie knew that such concerns were unfounded. He knew that you would never judge him for his past or hold his mistakes against him. However, fear and self-hatred have a way of distorting one's thoughts and leading to irrational behaviour. Frankie recognized the irrationality of his actions and the influence fear and self-doubt had over his decisions.
But Frankie was learning. He was slowly coming to terms with the fact that his fears and self-judgment were hindering his progress. He began to realize that the path to healing required vulnerability and trust, especially in his relationship with you. Overcoming his own insecurities and learning to open up was a crucial step towards rebuilding the trust he had broken.
For Frankie and you to have a chance at reuniting, he understood the importance of treating you as an equal partner, rather than just his wife in need of protection. Opening up and being honest with you were crucial steps he needed to take. In the group therapy sessions, the topic of his treatment towards you had come up, and one woman in particular, Ronnie, didn't hold back in expressing her opinion. She bluntly stated that if she were in your position, she would have swiftly shown Frankie the door, recounting her own experience with an ex-husband who had been a taciturn statue throughout their short-lived marriage.
Ronnie's words struck a nerve with Frankie, leaving him feeling exposed and vulnerable. He felt raw and tender. But he could only acknowledge that she had a valid point. He had failed to communicate and share his thoughts and emotions with you, and that had taken a toll on your relationship.
Dr. Stevens had attempted to calm the group, but the impact of Ronnie's words lingered within Frankie for a couple of days afterward. Frankie had no choice but to confront the truth of how his behaviour had affected you and how he had fallen short of being the partner you deserved.
Frankie's thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a firm clap on his back, drawing his attention away from the peaceful pond. Frankie's face lit up with genuine joy when he catches the blue eyes of Will looking back at him.
"Will! Man, it's so good to see you!" Frankie exclaims, rising from his seat to embrace his friend in a tight hug. "How have you been, brother?"
"Good, good. Same old routine—VA visits, giving speeches, and keeping Benny out of trouble," Will replies, "Oh, and I might have met someone special," he adds, a playful grin on his face.
Frankie's face lit up even more. "That's fantastic, Will! I'm really happy for you," he exclaims, gesturing for his friend to take a seat on the opposite side of the picnic table. "This spot gives you the best view of this place," Frankie remarks, pointing towards the serene pond and the ducks swimming on its surface.
Will settles into the seat with a contented smile. "I can see why," he replies, appreciating the calm scene. His eyes then shifted to Frankie, noticing a change in his friend's demeanour. "You look good, Fish. Actually, better than I've seen you in a while," Will remarks, his voice filled with genuine warmth.
Frankie's expression softens, gratitude filling his gaze. "Thanks, Will. I feel good too," he confesses, a mix of relief and newfound understanding in his voice. "Being here has given me the time and space to confront things I wasn't ready to face about myself. I wish I had done it sooner, instead of being so stubborn. It was the best thing I could have done for myself and for them," he explains.
Will's smile widens, expressing his genuine happiness for his friend. "I'm glad to hear it, Fish," he replies warmly.
As the two friends catch up, their conversation started to delve into the time they had spent apart. Frankie eagerly sharing his experiences in group therapy and the progress he had made with his personal therapist. He spoke openly about the challenges he faced during the initial month of withdrawal, recounting the intense loneliness that had enveloped him during that period.
Frankie's voice grew heavier as he broached the topic of guilt surrounding Tom's death. Will's gaze turned serious, his eyes locked onto Frankie's, conveying a sense of understanding and empathy. With a firm conviction in his voice, Will interrupted Frankie's self-blame.
"None, and I mean it, Fish," Will asserts, his words laced with sincerity. "None of what happened in Colombia was your fault. We all had a part to play in those circumstances, and you don't have to shoulder that burden alone, alright?"
Tears welled up in Frankie's eyes as he nodded, his voice trembling with gratitude. "Thank you, Will," he chokes out, his voice thick with emotion. "I needed to hear that, to be reminded that I'm not alone in this. It means the world to me."
Will reaches out and places a comforting hand on Frankie's shoulder, offering both physical and emotional support. "You never have to face this journey alone, Fish," Will assures him, his voice filled with unwavering loyalty. "We're in this together, and I'll always be here for you."
A brief pause hung in the air as Frankie's gaze shifted to the side, a touch of melancholy crossing his face. He mustered the courage to ask the question that had been weighing on his mind, his voice tinged with longing. "Did you see my wife and Ella while I was away... How... How are they doing?"
Will's smile softens, his own eyes wandering toward the ducks in the distance. "They seemed well," he replies. "Ella grew like a weed, you know. And your lady, she's doing great. Got herself a new job with better pay. I could tell she was really proud of it."
Frankie closes his eyes, allowing the words to wash over him. For a fleeting moment, guilt threatens to seep in—the guilt of not being there by your side. But just as quickly, it dissipates, replaced by an overwhelming sense of love and admiration for you and the strides you were making while he focuses on his own journey of healing. "A promotion, huh? She's so smart. I can't wait to tell her how happy I am for her," he whispers. A spark of excitement flickers within him. "Did you guys celebrate? Because I can organize something once I'm out."
Will's smile broadens. "We thought we'd wait for you, but we did take her and Ella to Outback Steakhouse," he reveals. "Is she planning to visit before you leave?"
"I'll be out in two weeks, and Mama is coming with Ella next week, but I think it's best if we wait until I'm out," Frankie explains, his voice tinged with a mix of longing and practicality.
"That's fair," Will nods understandingly. "She seems well, Fish, but I can tell she's lonely. She looks like she misses you."
Frankie's eyes brim with tender determination, "She could never miss me as much as I miss her and Ella. This time here has made me realize how fortunate I am and how close I came to squandering it all. I'll never make that mistake again, Will, believe me."
A twinkle appears in Will's eyes as he reaches for his back pocket. "Wait, I have something for you," he said, pulling out his phone and opening the camera app. He scrolls through a collection of pictures; some he had taken himself and others that you had sent to him. "These are for you. Your lady wanted to make sure you knew they were doing all right."
As Frankie continues scrolling through the photo albums, he was greeted by a plethora of precious moments captured between you and Ella. Each image held its own story, showcasing the love and joy that radiated from your little family. In some pictures, you cradled Ella in your arms, your eyes filled with tenderness. Other photos focused solely on Ella, capturing her adorable expressions and mischievous nature. And then there were the silly selfies—the ones that always brought a smile to Frankie's face. They were the ones you both loved to take, capturing the candid, carefree moments of your lives.
There were morning snapshots, featuring tousled bedheads and tired smiles, Ella playfully blowing raspberries at the camera. Other pictures overflowed with warmth and sunshine, showcasing the adventures you embarked on during the summer. Ella in her tiny bathing suit, her chubby fingers clutching a plush cat toy. You and Ella wearing matching sundresses adorned with elephants, holding a basket full of produce from the farmer’s market. Frankie's heart swells as he sees an image of you delicately feeding Ella a small bite of ice cream.
Tears well up in Frankie's eyes—a mixture of longing and joy. Joy because he is so grateful to see you both thriving and creating beautiful memories. Sadness because he has missed out on these precious moments. As he continues scrolling, he stumbles on a video. With a quick double-tap, he initiates the playback, and your voice resonates from the phone's speakers.
"Come on, quickly, take out your camera..." your voice echoes, filled with excitement.
"Fish, wait a second, you should turn that off," Will's voice interjects, attempting to grab the phone.
But Frankie evades him, his body turning towards the lake, his back to Will. His heart yearns to hear your voice, to immerse himself in the presence of the family he deeply misses. The camera comes into focus, and there you are crouched next to the coffee table with Ella... Is she crawling?! Frankie's heart tightens as he watches his little Estrelita grow up right before his eyes, slowly making her way toward you.
And then he hears it, a voice echoing through the phone, "Go to her! I'll be your personal cameraman!!!" It's Benny's voice and Frankie's body tenses in response. The video continues, capturing your shouts of encouragement to Ella, and even Benny's voice cheering, "Let's go, Ella! Show them who's the best fucking baby in the world!"
Frankie catches your disapproving look at the camera, and Benny offering a sheepish apology. Sunshine. Benny called you sunshine. But it's just Benny being Benny, right? It has to be. Benny would never... he couldn't possibly… Do that. But deep down, Frankie can't help his mind from wandering into unsettling territory.
The video plays on, but Frankie's focus wavers. He can't seem to see anything else on the screen. And then, finally, Ella reaches you, and Frankie is jolted from his daze by your scream of excitement. Suddenly, a cold shock washes over him as he hears Benny's voice again, "Now, proud mama, you got anything to say to the camera?"
Your radiant smile is directed at Benny; Ella's happy satisfied face is all for Benny—it's all too much. He isn't there. But Benny is. Benny is there. Frankie can feel himself spiralling.
The phone is snatched from his hands, and Will sits down next to Frankie, gripping his shoulder firmly. "Benny was just there that day to fix the fan in the bathroom, it was all just circumstances, I promise you," Will reassures him. Frankie's voice trembles as he responds, "The fan was broken? And I wasn't there to fix it. But Benny was."
"No!" Will's voice booms with determination. "Don't go down that road, Fish. Understand? There's nothing going on between your lady and Benny. You've made incredible progress these past few months, and I'll be damned if you let yourself fall into another dark place. I wasn't there last time, but this time, I'm right here with you!"
Frankie's mind whispers, "Maybe it would be easier if I didn't come back. She has a new job, and Ella seems well. They'd probably be better off without me." He looks down at the ground, feeling his hands twist anxiously.
"Are you kidding me?!" Will exclaims. "Frankie, these girls love you more than anything in this world. If you leave, they'd be shattered. You're not thinking straight right now. Remember why you made that recording? So that Ella wouldn’t forget your voice. Fish, you knew you'd miss a lot of things by being here. But look, today you've been telling me how much progress you've made, how you're ready to open up and communicate better with your lady. With us. Well, let me introduce you to a new concept: trust. You need to trust that she would never do anything to hurt you. And you need to trust that Benny would never betray his own brother like that, okay?" Frankie takes a deep breath, absorbing Will's words.
“You are right. Of course, you are right. Sorry for freaking out like that.”
"It's all right. Are you really okay though?" Will's voice is filled with genuine concern.
Frankie's mind balks. Is he really… Okay? He doesn't have a definite answer. The old Frankie would have brushed it off, assuring Will that he was fine and that he didn’t care that Benny was seemingly playing house with you and Ella. Then he’d go snort a line in the bathroom to take the edge off.
"I don't know, Will. I don't know if I'll ever be all right." Frankie puts his head in his hands, feeling the weight of his emotions bearing down on him. Will places a reassuring hand on Frankie's upper back. "Then we'll take it one day at a time.”
One day at a time. Just 14 more days until he sees you and Ella again. Only 14 days until you decide if you want him back. Just 14 days until he must confront the consequences of his actions and the pain, he caused you over the past few years. Those 14 days stretch before him, both seemingly endless and surprisingly close. Is he truly ready? The honest answer is, he doesn't know.
Next chapter
#fanfiction#fanfic#triple frontier fic#triple frontier#pedro pascal characters#pedro boys#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal fandom#pedrohub#frankie morales x reader#francisco catfish morales#frankie catfish morales#frankie morales#francisco morales#frankie morales x you#frankie morales fanfic#francisco morales x reader#will ironhead miller#benny miller#will miller
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I keep meaning to sit down and try to find the best right words to describe how like. Seriously fucking insanely good your writing is, and properly explain all the things I love about it without sounding like a crazy person, but tbh I should probably just. Sound crazy. The way you write just blows my mind. It's all the things I've always wanted to accomplish as a writer, and you just do it so... Seamlessly. Your style is so perfectly balanced. Between how beautifully done your characterization are, the way you you write someone like Seonghwa is always so potently HIM, wed recognise him anywhere, there are glimmers of what we see irl winking at us all over him, but you've masterfully molded him into something entirely new as well—no matter what direction you take him in, he always feels authentic and real and maybe like a new, exciting iteration of himself, but he's recognizable instantly. You capture all his charms no matter where you take him. And the mc! God, you just do it so perfectly. The mc always feels real, solid, someone we can instantly relate to and sympathise with and sink into but it's never overbearing, I never feel like I'm being held hostage by an mc too developed to actually serve as a reader insert, but it's never a blank slate, either. And your timing, your timing is superb. I don't know how bigwig Hollywood directors are still struggling to execute proper pacing, when they could just take a page out of your book, imo. We're never rushed, but we never linger uncomfortably anywhere either. It's never boring. However you figure out what the exact right perfect details to include or draw attention to in each scene, I have no idea, but it always blows my mind. It's like a perfect filet mignon, no fat to trim, just flavor. Your stories feel exciting and often have me wanting to throw my phone or kick my feet, but they're also deeply human, grounded, real, relatable. They're like the perfect mixture of being so tactile and immersive that they're reality, but better—real life if it was shinier, sparklier, juicier. I'm sorry if any of this sounds weird or unwelcome, I just am so. So crazy glad I found your fics. The first thing I'll probably be doing if I ever get my own acc up and running again is boosting a ton of your works 😂
anon, this is a really wonderful message you sent in and i appreciate it more than i could probably put into words. i started writing stories when i was five years old and it's always been the centre of me. when i think of "what is my purpose of being on this planet", i know the answer is "to write". i don't mean that in a manner to make money or as a "side hustle", just as "this is the centre of my heart". i feel grateful that i know this about myself.
i think it speaks to Hwa as being my muse how many different aspects of him i can pull from to put in my stories. he's a fantastic performer who can convey so many different energies and emotions on stage but also has a kindness and thoughtfulness to him off stage we see so often. i pull from all those faucets of him when thinking of how to approach Hwa in a fic where someone will recognize him but still get a story to write too.
when it comes to the mcs, i want it to be engaging enough that the story can flow but not alienating enough that someone is pulled out. perhaps you don't relate to the mc in that she's bossy or makes choices you wouldn't but i try to show her thought process so at least someone reading could understand and not be pulled out of the story. over time, i have improved on stripping away personal physical details to make this work better and that is something i am constantly trying to improve on so that the mc is physically a blank slate and more of a personality focus.
as for the pacing, i think that just comes down to the sheer volume of planning i put in the longer fics. i try to have everything mapped out. i can see everything i write with perfect vivid clarity which enables me to linger on a scene and figure out what i want to emphasis. i studied film and am a bit of a film nerd so i am constantly drawing inspiration from a lot of movies and trying to translate that to my writings. my general rule of thumb is "every scene must propel the plot forward". i look at each scene and i think "does this move either the plot or character development forward?" if it doesn't, it gets cut.
when you said my fics are like reality but better, that means a lot because that is my goal. i had to grow up fast a kid and that left me always with my head in the clouds to what wonderful things could be lurking around the corner in a way to keep me going on bad days. that habit still exists now as a way i come up with stories - what if you're living your day to day life but something subtle shifts and possibilities open up? this is the basis for a lot of my fics: wallflower, arrow in the dark, addicting kitten, video girl, etc.
sorry for writing a novel back but your message was incredibly thoughtful and wonderfully kind and i wanted to write something thoughtful in return. thank you again.
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💌 #4 (the time mr. crush gave me a small econ 101 lesson)
mr crush was somewhat of a leftist, and i mean a real antifa, votes for the green party (when that still meant something) kind of leftist. he was also solidly middle class with the capacity to be as insufferably annoying as many white leftists can. however, guess who showed up relentlessly each time nazi "demonstrations"(🙄) were held in nearby towns and cities to counterprotest and throw rocks at them? my antifa classmates for whom i'm still grateful for tbh. (also they could afford it, if anything went wrong and they ended up arrested, i just know mommy or daddy could probably get them out). either way, as a black girl with no black community to speak of, they were next best thing.
one day, not sure how the topic came up, he asked me if i knew which part of the country was the richest. i think we had just had a politics & economy class, maybe that was the context. anyway, me, surprised that my crush was addressing me (!), composed myself and thought for a moment. then mentioned a place that was known for lots of wealthy people and celebrities hanging out. he said no, so i kept thinking and couldn't come up with anything else. so he just said it's here, here where we live. and that kind of took me by surprise, because while i knew the villages and suburbs around us were chock-full of bankers who worked in the city, and we had some industry, it had never occurred to me. the place was full of old money (not for me obviously LOL). there were some places further into the rural areas that had mansions and even castles, but i always just assumed they were historic buildings. you would never guess by just looking, it didn't (superficially speaking) look like wealth. anyway, i just exclaimed "wow, i would never have guessed that, but i guess it makes sense." we never talked much, but when we did, he always told me something interesting that shifted my world-view a bit. we were also seventeen and i feel like so many things have the capacity to shift your world-view at seventeen lol.
#tales from mercury in retrograde#an exercise in purging#limerence be gone#an exercise in becoming human once more
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1196.
What time do you wake up most mornings? >> It varies. Most of the time my upstairs neighbour wakes me up at 05:00 because that's when he gets up and starts moving around. He leaves at around 05:40 and most of the time I fall back asleep within the next half-hour and wake up for good between 07:00 and 08:00... but not always.
Do you enjoy your job? If unemployed, are you content being so? >> I do prefer being unemployed, but even if it weren't my preference it'd still be inevitable. So I guess it's a good thing I'm okay with it.
What is something you have given a lot of thought to lately? >> Loneliness and the self-damning narratives it perpetuates.
Do you have any tattoos? Do you want any/more? >> I have three and I will always want more, but they're expensive.
What is your favourite Christmas movie? >> I finally saw Die Hard recently. Okay, that's not my answer, but it could be! It was a lot of fun, way more than I thought it'd be! My actual answer is Klaus, with an honourable mention to Rise of the Guardians, which isn't a Christmas movie per se but it's hard not to treat it as one. Oh, and also Violent Night. ;)
What do you get complimented on the most? .
If money was no object, where would you move to? >> Out of the United States, that's for sure. Probably someplace tropical.
Do you believe in soul mates? >> Can Calah and I are bound in such a way that the term "soulmate" makes literal sense.
If you could wake up tomorrow and be fluent in 3 additional languages, which would you choose? >> Hmm... Irish, French, Portuguese. Thinking about places I want to visit or spend a lot of time in.
Would you rather go on a relaxing beach type holiday to the Caribbean, a cultural holiday to Japan or an adventure packed holiday to South Africa? >> Cultural holiday to Japan. The Caribbean is definitely an area I want to spend time in, but "relaxing beach type holiday" makes me think of resorts and I'm not too into that, specifically. Same with "adventure packed", I kind of just want to go to South Africa and vibe, not necessarily do a bunch of exciting shit. Who are the three most important people in your life? >> Can Calah, King Crimson, Bruni.
Would you sacrifice everything for love? >> Why would I have to sacrifice everything? Love shouldn't be that fucking hard to experience...
Have you ever been in love? >> Not in this realm.
Where do you see yourself in 10 years? .
Are you scared of the future? >> I am not, I just tend to be very fatalistic about it. Not necessarily the state of the world or anything, but my personal future specifically. What’s the last reason you held someone’s hand? . Are you lonely? Be honest. >> Quite. Listening to anything? >> I am not.
Last thing said out loud? >> I have no idea.
Last thing bought? >> Groceries.
Last text received? >> Sparrow sent me a link to purple bok choy over Discord.
What has made you happy today? >> Can Calah.
What has made you sad today? .
What room are you in? >> Mine.
Last thing eaten? >> A dark chocolate muffin because Sparrow had just baked some.
Last thing you drank? >> Fizzy water.
Rate your day on a scale of 1-10: .
What websites do you have bookmarked? >> So many...
Last reason you kissed someone? .
Do you have an iPhone? >> I do not.
Do you bite your nails? If so, do you wish you didn’t? >> I don't.
Last pair of shoes you wore? >> Sneakers.
Last movie you watched? >> Saw II.
Name something you’re grateful for. >> Can Calah.
Are you wearing anything that’s not yours? >> I am not.
Do you shop at Urban Outfitters? >> I do not.
Have you ever experienced an earthquake? >> A brief tremor in Brooklyn, once.
If you were in the hospital, do you think any of your exes would come see you? .
Would you rather read an entire encyclopedia or an entire dictionary? .
What do you have in common with the last person you kissed? .
Are you doing anything important tomorrow? >> I don't have anything planned.
Do you like your phone? >> Sure.
Would you move out your house if you could right now? >> If it meant I was moving out of the area as a whole, absolutely. However, I am also sick of moving.
Can you whistle? >> I can't, but I do it by accident sometimes. I think I'm thisclose to getting it right.
When was the last time you slept in someone else’s bed? >> The last bed I slept in that wasn't mine was a hotel bed. Do you like being called baby? >> I don't. Would you rather drink orange juice or milk? >> Orange juice.
Do you wish you could kiss someone right now? >> I could, though. Do you hate when people interrupt your sleep? >> It makes me homicidal.
Are there any movies in the theater that you want to see? >> I wouldn't mind seeing The First Omen, I guess. But mainly I'm waiting for Furiosa to drop. I think something else comes out this month that I really want to see, but I can't remember what.
Do you miss the way things used to be between you and someone else? .
What do you think of your best friend’s ex? .
How long would you wait to say “I love you” in a relationship? >> What am I waiting for? If I feel like saying it, I'd say it. However, traditionally I have not enjoyed saying this exact phrase to people, so... maybe I'd say something else. Something more personally meaningful.
If you had a child at the age you’re at now, do you think you’d be a good parent? .
Do you like to be out with friends or stay at home? .
When was the last time you felt tempted to do something you shouldn’t? Did you do it? . What year was it five years before you were born? >> 1982. What holiday is closest to your birthday? >> Memorial Day, eugh. What is your name if you spell it without the letters “e” “y” and “t”? >> Mordrd.
What year is the oldest car you or your family owns? . Who is your 9th contact in your phone? . Have you had your birthday yet this year? >> No, it's in a couple of weeks. Why did you go to the doctor the last time you went? >> Checkup. How old will you be in 5 years? >> 41.
How about in 20? >> 56.
Where was the last place you went? >> Aside from just taking a walk, the last place I actually went was a grocery store, I think. Is there a mirror in your room? >> There is a janky stick-on mirror on the wall that I got off Amazon, lol. I was being cheap, I'll get a better one eventually.
Do you have a twin? >> Twinners, but no twin.
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Her feet wandered in his direction before she really realized it. Pausing outside his door, bag of gifts against her side, list of names in her hand. She takes a breath, fishes in the bag for a box wrapped in green, and knocks, twice.
“Hello, Sain,” she murmurs, holding the box out towards him. “I brought you a gift, for the winter festival. I thought you’d like it.” There’s a shy sparkle in her eyes, an undercurrent of confidence that she chose something nice.
Inside the box are an assortment of fruit-filled chocolates, in different shapes to denote their flavors. Snowflakes filled with strawberry jam, swirls of citrus, and raspberry stars line the inside of the small box, tempting fingers and tastebuds alike.
“I thought about getting you flowers, in a flowerpot, but I couldn’t find any I thought you’d like...” and roses grow on bushes anyway.
“I hope you enjoy them!”
Mark is a welcome sight. In truth, he had been on the hunt for her today. The gift he keeps tucked behind his back is one he had to pour a great deal of time and thought (not to mention money!) into in order to be truly satisfied with. It isn't that she's hard to shop for, but rather that being so easy to shop for makes things difficult for him. He's got to stand out, and all.
"My favorite tactician! I take it you've also been busy with festival preparations? You've never been one to sit still." Not right now, either, for almost as soon as he opens his mouth, he's accepting a present. Not that he'd ever complain about one. Especially from her.
He scopes out the shyness in her eyes and tries to project a reassuring glow with his. Forcing their gazes to meet, he tells her it's okay now--that she can focus on him and her worries will melt into chocolate.
"Why, Mark, I'm charmed! How did you know that it is normally I who gives a lady sweet treats, that a humble dream of mine is to have my love given back to me...?" He winks, denoting that he is (mostly) kidding, if still grateful. The box's lid slides off, and he pops one of the gifts into his mouth to sample. His cheeks flush with endearment, savoring the way the richness of the chocolate hitches a ride on the sweet punch of the fruit.
"Oh, they're sublime! Like fluffy clouds rolling over a setting sun! My darling, surely you've tried some for yourself?"
In case she hasn't, he eagerly pushes one under her nose.
Once it is accepted, he dusts his fingers off and reaches back behind him. His gift had been set aside on a miscellaneous storage crate while they spoke: a bit of quick thinking on his part.
"Now, don't think I've come empty-handed either. I imagine you've already received plenty of weapons and games for master strategists, so I had to go elsewhere for my gift."
Sain produces an ornate, black box. A single band of green ribbon is all that ties it together. Loosen that, and the contents will be revealed. Mark receives an opulent dress, like something out of a fairytale the way it is decorated in fineries. Its primary color is green, though the aforementioned embellishments shine a morning gold. The shoulders around the nape stick out--almost imitating armor--but the entire thing cascades into the ground while held at its full length. It was a tailor's grand vision of radiance, which perfectly captures this image the knight has of his tactician.
"Leader though you may be, you're also a lady. And a beautiful lady at that. So why not let your beauty shine in this? I think the green will really bring out the red in your eyes!"
Because truly, what colors marry together better than emerald and ruby?
"Oh, and I hope you don't mind that I learned your size by snooping around your camp. A knight always ought to be prepared!"
#IC#ASKBOX#ALLYPHASE#//sorry that this is a little Gendered but i promise that's him and not me#//anyways IIII FUCKING LOVE MARK HELL YEAH MARKKKK WOOOOOOOOOOO#//thank u for this red... cheesed greatly
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i would love to read a story about a misbehaving wife. I dont care if its toxic, I kind of like it, when he disciplines her
You are hot!
Love, Maddie
Hi Maddie :) Thank you!
Even on their wedding night, Diana knew that Alex and her marriage would be different from her or his parents' marriage. He held her in high esteem. Nevertheless, it was he who made the decisions and Diana thoroughly enjoyed having a strong husband who was in control. She had always been the crazy and creative one of the two. He kept their money together because if Diana did that, she would spend far too much money on the spur of the moment. He was also the tidier of the two. She worked as an actress and she loved the work, she could empathize deeply with the characters she played. He had met her that way too - he had been in the audience of her first theater performance. Now she was more successful than then, but his attentive eyes still followed her when she was on stage. Even at home, Alex always kept an eye on her and made her achieve her goals. He pushed her to exercise to keep her healthy and sexy. He also wrote her lists that she had to work through until he came home from his job - he was a manager at a large IT company. After a serious bout of cancer, during which he was by her side, she had to cut back on her job and could only take on a few big gigs. She spent the rest of the time waiting for him at their home.
One evening - she had recently taught herself to paint - she had forgotten her domestic duties. She had forgotten to do the laundry, cook, iron, clean, shave and get ready for him. When he came home, she was still in the attic, engrossed in a painting of a scene from her debut stage play. He cleared his throat. She dropped the brush and turned to him, startled. He held her list in his hand: “Haven't you forgotten something?” he asked her. “No,” she said cheekily, perhaps he would then pick her up, giggling, and carry her to bed? But no. He was angry. “I have to be able to rely on you obeying me at home,” he said sternly. “If I work all day and earn our money, I want to come home to a clean home, put on some clean clothes, eat some delicious food and then fuck my wife!” She shuddered. She hadn't expected to see Alex so angry. She knew he liked to take his aggression out on her - especially during sex he liked to hit her and choke her, sometimes he would give her commands and she would crawl around in front of him and bring him a ball to throw for her or even dog toys, but she never knew him to get rough outside the bedroom. “You misbehaved,” he said. She shook her head. “I'm going downstairs to order dinner.”
Diana nodded, that was a good idea. “You'll jump in the shower and then you'll come into the living room completely naked.” She nodded. “Excuse me?” he asked. “Yes,” she said, ”It's yes sir, if you want to appease your husband. You bring the cane from the bedroom, get on your knees in front of me and beg me to punish you. You better hurry in the shower!” She got up and scurried past him into the bathroom while he went downstairs. She heard him talking on the phone before she got into the shower and then dried herself off. Downstairs, he was sitting on the sofa. She got down on her knees and presented him with the cane. “We have time to punish you thoroughly until dinner comes. And believe me, my dear. We will punish you thoroughly. Do you understand me?” “Yes, sir,” she whispered and looked at his shoes. He sighed. “I wish I didn't have to punish you, but you leave me no choice. First your breasts and your ass? Look how sweet I am for letting you choose. Diana was a little ashamed of her behavior, but she was grateful to have a man at her side to set her straight. With every blow, she reminded herself that he was only doing her good. In the end, she thanked him with an ass that would be blue the next morning and dark welts on her breasts. When the food arrived, she was allowed to sit between his legs and lean against the armchair he was sitting on.
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Bitch Boy Prologue
Masterlist
I was riding along the path to Konoha, a long way still to go as I had just entered the land of fire. I had my horse, who carried the two bags which held my clothing and minor belongings. I was coming back to my home village after a few years, I was only 19 but I hadn't been back in 3 years, I had left just before the Chunin exams that ended in Lord Third's death. I was 16 back then, I didn't even realize I had only missed seeing my dad by a few weeks until I was already long gone. I felt the village after being granted permission to visit my mother and take care of her, she had gotten very sick and had no one to ask for help but me. I took care of her all day, every day for 2 and a half years before doctors had to put her in a hospital for 24 hour care. She couldn't even feed herself by that time. It had only been a month since she passed but I was okay with it. Mostly.
She had left me a letter, and told me to open it when I needed her. When I really needed her. She also left me money, enough to support myself comfortable for a long time since I was the last remaining heir in her family; and she gave me a letter, to give to my dad. Now, you might wonder who he is. My dad is pretty famous, I wouldn't doubt it if you had already guessed from my stunningly good looks, though he always said I looked more like my mother.
My dad is Jiraiya the Gallant, Legendary Sanin of the Village Hidden in the Leaves.
I know, I'm awesome.
You see, I was an accident, but my parents never treated me that way. They weren't together by any means and it wasn't at all perfect but it was my family so it was okay. My mother was from a very wealthy family known as the Komochi clan in Yokugakure, she was the only survivor of an assassination attempt on her already small familyline and managed to hire some shinobi to hunt them down, bringing her family the justice as the killers were rightfully punished. My father happened to run into her while she was on a little trip to a different land.
One thing lead to another and 9 month later. BAM! Here's baby Etsuko Komochi for ya!
My mother was worried sick about my safety though so guess who got to travel with my dad while he went on dangerous missions? This girl! He was training me the whole time until I was old enough to be sent to the Academy where I stayed, my dad and I had a house in the village, but he was almost never home while I was in the Academy. I graduated top of my class still, which he took me out to celebrate after he came back for a mission report, spending the next two days spoiling me with stories of his adventure, some more training and just father daughter time together.
I had quickly climbed the ranks after graduation, going as far as reaching Jonin just before I had gotten the message from my mother, immediately requesting a temporary leave of absence to go care for her. I didn't even get time to properly celebrate since I missed my dad coming home. I heard through the grapevine that he and his new student should be on their way back from their training journey. I had my red Katana on my hip laying against my black pants, my cropped black t-shirt covered by a maroon cloak with a white fuzzy collar, I got it only a year after I left Konoha cause it reminded me of my dad and I was feeling homesick. I was getting bored, trying to mindlessly entertain myself on this long journey when I suddenly hears a very loud and irritating voice in the distance behind me, my horses ears flicking back slightly as she heard the grating voice as well as I groaned. I was tired, bored and hungry. I was in no mood to deal with people at the moment.
That is..
Until I hear my dad's voice?
"Dad?" I ask, having my horse Jasper turn around to the side, staying put as the voices got closer, eventually I saw white hair peak over the horizon and my eyes widen. "DAD!" I yelled, getting off Jasper and sprinting to him, Jasper letting out a huff before she slowly followed after me. I saw him with a blonde guy but I didn't pay him any mind, running at my dad, quickly closing the distance between us. I saw the blonde guy look at me in confusion, pointing to me as my dad's eyes widen at the sight of me. I squealed as I tackled him in a hug, my arms wrapped tightly around his neck as he stumbled back a bit, laughing loudly at my excitement.
"Well, someone's happy to see me." He joked as he set me down after giving me a bone crushing hug.
"Are you kidding?! I haven't seen you in over 3 years!" I said, laughing as I let him go, walking back to Jasper who had caught up with us.
"Pervy Sage? Who is this girl?" The blond kid asked, looking very confused making me laugh, sticking a hand out to him.
"Etsuko Komochi. Also, did you just call my dad, Pervy Sage?" I asked him, watching his face flush bright red as he got a slight panicked look on his face.
"You're Pervy Sage's daughter?!" He exclaimed making me chuckle, scratching the back of my neck as my dad grinned, resting a hand on my shoulder.
"I know, she's like a spitting image of her mother though." He said, the blonde still looking between us in shock before he looked more confused then anything.
"Someone actually chose to have a kid with you?" The blonde asked making us both sweatdrop, my dad crashing to the ground at the hit to his ego.
"Actually, I was a surprise, I guess you could say." I said, smiling awkwardly as he got an 'Ohhhh' expression on his face, turning sheepish.
"Sorry for bringing it up, I just didn't think ladies actually thought he was 'all that' with how often he gets rejected." He said, my dad moaning in sorrow at his heavily bruised ego.
"Honestly, not surprised." I said with a little laugh as my dad stood up. "Though he does get lucky if he tries hard enough, I've seen that plenty of times too when he thought I didn't notice him slipping out of the room with a lady or two every now and again while we were traveling together." I said, getting back on my horse carefully.
"Are you headed back to the leaf?" My dad asked, a slight serious tone to his voice. "I heard about why you left.. How is she?" He asked hesitantly making me sigh feeling the burning in my throat that I've felt for the past few weeks return hastily.
"She's uh,..." I cleared my throat, trying not to let my voice crack as I spoke. "She's gone.. It was an extremely rare disease that just kinda, took over." I said quietly, holding the reins close to me as I stared at my hands, blinking tears away as my dad put a hand over mine.
"How about you?" He asked gently, I took a deep breath, composing myself the best I could before giving him a small, sad smile.
"I'm okay." I said, the blonde was watching our exchange silently, never having thought Jiraiya to be the caring father type. "I'm gonna be staying in the village a while, what about you two?" I asked, trying to change the subject to something lighter, seeing me dad give a small smile, patting my thigh as he turned to the blonde.
"Yep, just headed there now." He said, all of us beginning to walk to Konoha together, my dad between Naruto and I as we walked. "Oh, and this is Naruto, by the way. I've been training him for the past 2 and a half years." He said making me look at the blonde and smile.
"It's nice to meet you Naruto." I said, only now getting a good look at him making me think for a minute, he looked oddly familiar. "Do I know you from somewhere? You seem oddly familiar." I asked, only to see him look at me in confusion.
"I don't think we've met before." He said, I squinted at him before turning to my dad.
"Do you know why I think he's familiar?" I questioned, looking at my dads clueless look.
"Maybe you've seen him in the village before?" He suggested making me put a hand on my chin as I tried to think.
"How old are you?" I asked Naruto.
"15, why?" He asked making me huff.
"Means you wouldn't have been in any of my academy classes, why is nothing coming to mind?" I asked myself, slightly frustrated. I could almost picture it, someone similar to him, his blurry face looking down on me. "Maybe I'm just mixing you up with someone else." I said, shaking my head as I let the mysterious blonde man drift away from my thoughts.
"So, Etsuko, why'd you leave the village?" Naruto asked making me sigh.
"My mother had gotten sick a few weeks before the Chunin exams, when Lord Third was killed, I had just been promoted to Jonin but I took a leave of absence as soon as I got her letter and left to take care of her the next day." I said, before suddenly remembering the letter she gave me. "Oh, before I forget. She gave me a letter and a box for you dad." I said, digging it out of my bag and handing the letter to him, figuring the box could wait until we got home to him.
"Wonder what she could have wrote." He said, taking the envelope from my hand with a curious look, opening it and taking out the letter, it was at least 5 pages long making my eyes widen.
"She couldn't even feed herself by the end, how did she write all that?" I asked, only to see my dad give a sad smile.
"She was always prepared for anything, if I had to guess, this had been sitting around for a bit." He said, his eyes silently scanning the papers, his eyes slightly widening as he read more making me look at him in confusion.
"Everything okay?" I asked him, his eyes were wide until a serious expression came over his face.
"Its a letter detailing the secrets and properties of the Komochi clan. She wants me to be the new head of house until you find a husband." He said making me choke on my own saliva, coughing as I looked at him with wide eyes.
"A husband?!" I exclaimed, crossing my arms in an X as I shook my head. "Not happening. Any man tries to touch me and I will actually bite them." I said, my arms now crossed over my chest.
"What's so wrong with getting a husband?" Naruto asked, a genuine confusion on his face making me huff.
"Komochi women are knows as breeder women to some, its insulting honestly. Most men think because I'm from a breeder clan that they'll own me in every sense of the word if they marry me." I said, pulling my cloak a little tighter thinking about all the disgusting cat calls and sexual harassments I've faced because of my body and clan name. "There's been more then one time I've had to fight grown men off me because they couldn't keep their dick in their pants." I said, scowling as I recalled the altercations I've gotten into.
"Wait, what's a breeder clan?" Naruto asked making me chuckle, I'm glad younger generations don't know my clan as well.
"Its supposed to mean that the women are the best for breeding with, hence the sexual harassment, and while to an extent its true, we also have a soul tie which is the real reason we are breeders." I said, seeing his confused face making me sigh. "It's like a soulmate." I said, his eyes widening as he understood what I was saying.
"So, then just marry your soulmate!" He said as if it was really that simple, making me laugh.
"I wish it was that easy, but I'd have to find them first." I said, my dad glanced at me as the gate of Konoha finally came into the view in the far distance.
"You'll know when you find them." He said, sounding so confident making me narrow my eyes at him.
"Yea right, with my luck their either already taken or dead." I muttered, earning a smack upside the head from my dad making me yelp. "Hey!" I shouted, looking at him offended as I made Jasper walk a little further ahead of him, swatting him with her tail as she went.
"Have you ever thought about maybe, making more friends then? Find someone and go have fun, who cares if its your soulmate for now." He said, ignoring the tail to the face for now.
"Yea sure, and end up heartbroken on top of being alone? No, thank you." I said, a small sarcastic laugh coming out at the end.
"Hey, we're here!"
#Kiba#Kiba inuzuka#inuzuka#inuzuka clan#kiba naruto#naruto#smutfic#xreader#xoc#Jiraiya#jiraiya naruto#jiraiya daughter AU#Komochi clan#komochi#bitchboy
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OK so we bitched a lot about the dress code etc of the wedding this past weekend, but once I saw my cousin walking down the aisle legit crying bc he is so happy to marry this girl, I no longer cared.
I cried during the whole ceremony while holding Myles hand. the reception was SO FUCKING FUN and I will survive off the memories of my white-ass dad's side of the family attempting to dance to Latin music. I, of course, am honored and very proud to see my usually very conservative paternal family welcome a huge Mexican family with open arms as new in-laws. The bride's dad's speech was in Spanish and then he translated it to English. and at the end he made a joke to my cousin saying he believes they can have a great relationship, but either he needs to learn more English or my cousin needs to learn more Spanish and I scream-laughed. idk the vibe was just really amazing and it was such a positive night. money sucks and stresses everyone out, but I understand she just wanted her dream wedding, and she def made it come true. I feel like my boricua ancestors are rejoicing lol
my dad was also there and I managed to avoid him all night. he had told my mom he would respect my space. but I feel like he was ALWAYS in my sight line... but it was a minor stressor and I'm so happy for that bc I wS scared I'd see him and get triggered and have an anxiety attack. I'm thankful he mainly held his end, and I guess I can understand if he was watching me bc at least he was seeing me happy? we're going to go to Thanksgiving and he will be there and he is going to see us with Aidan.... which again. I feel like he can watch from "afar" but I still don't want to be directly involved with him. Aidan won't remember him right now so it's less of a worry for me.... but j don't wNt him thinking things will change. I still am much too terrified of Aidan experiencing the truly negative and nasty side of my dad. it's not easier this way. either, but it's what feels right.
I had more to write but I'm so exhausted. I got really bummed out that we got home and by 2pm I couldn't keep my eyes open and had to hand Ade off to Myles. like. I know I crash after events like this. but I hate feeling incapable as a parent. like I always have to be like "I'm so lucky people help me" but I'm starting to think it's less of a grateful feeling paired with that. and more of a guilt/shame feeling when I remind myself of it. I don't feel like I deserve it, and it's totally an internalized ableism thing that I can't shake.
I have a mountain of things to do. but I have to prioritize rest and sleep this week. cross my fingers I don't have a meltdown :)
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Normally, under regular circumstances...or rather, under any other circumstances, Camellia would've objected. Attempted to argue in order to stay back.
But her presence was the exact opposite of what Mal and Jayne needed in order to deal with the gang in question that was searching for her.
She nodded at Mal's instructions, flashing subtle smirk at him as she walked past, hand making a brushing motion over his shoulder. "Go easy on them, Cap'n. They already lost their money, pride's bruised enough as it is." She joked.
Looping her arm with Kaylee's, both to blend in but also because why not? She hadn't seen her friend in far too long. Appearances helped in situations like these.
Once on Serenity she let Kaylee go, happy to get her bearings back and explore the ship. It kept her out of sight of any prying eyes, and it'd give her the chance to let Wash and Zoë know the current predicament.
Not to mention thank 'em for coming to get her, she'd be having to hide out somewhere waiting for the next shuttle out of port if not for them.
After making her rounds, she carefully made her way back to the cargo hold, staying up on the walkways so as to not draw any attention to herself. But still see if she could catch anything said by the men outside.
So far she hadn't heard any gunfire, which was always a good sign in the Serenity crew's case.
Once she saw the gang turn tail and leave, she settled herself in the cargo hold on some crates, waiting her 'heroes' return.
When Mal and Jayne came back on board, she held up her hands at the captain's words. "I know, I know. And you know I'm grateful for you keeping me safe, like always, Mal."
She nodded to the crate Jayne was carrying. "Hence the cargo you can sell for big money. As a thank you for getting those sore losers off my back." Camellia flashed her big eyes at Mal, bottom lip jutting out a little as she playfully patted his arm. "'t's why you've always been my favorite cap'n."
Mal nodded, understanding what needed to be done. "Doctor, take Kaylee and River back to the ship. Camellia, go with 'em." "Cap'n!" Kaylee warned, "don't start no trouble! We can't afford to lose our connections here!" "Ain't plannin' to raise a ruckus," Mal reassured his engineer. "We're just two guys, takin' in the scenery."
"Two well-armed guys," Jayne corrected.
Kaylee sighed, shook her head, and left with Simon, River, and Camellia towards Serenity. "We're gonna raise a little ruckus, at least; ain't we, Mal?" Jayne asked, clearly itching for a fight. "Kaylee's right," Mal replied, shaking his head. "Bernadette's one of our best hubs for short-haul jobs. Can't afford to burn any bridges right now." Just as Mal finished his sentence, the men River had spotted earlier approached them. "Hey," one of them called out. Judging from the adornments on his duster, Mal deduced he was the leader of the small posse. "You ain't seen a woman with red hair skulkin' around here, have ya?" "If I had," Mal replied, "I'd have taken a mighty interest in 'er. So, can't say as I have."
"That jiàn nǚ rén swindled us in a card game, and she's makin' to take off with our money!" Another one of the group's men chimed in. The harsh Chinese curse seemed to get Jayne's heckles up, and he took a step forward. Mal put his hand out subtly, as if to warn Jayne to stand down. "Damn shame," Mal shrugged, signaling to Jayne to grab one of the crates while he moved to pick up the other. "Would love to have a beer n' shed a tear over the loss with ya, but we gotta be takin' our gear and movin' on."
The gang watched in silence for a few seconds before the leader called out again. "Hey! Saw your ship land not 30 minutes ago while we were lookin' for the thief. Leavin' already? What's the hurry?"
Mal watched as the gang leader took a few steps forward, pushing back his duster to reveal his pistol.
Mal set down the crate he was carrying and sighed. "Now, think this through, fellas. Got no quarrel with any of you. Me and mine just want to get what we came for and be on our way."
"Said ya would've had a mighty interest in that redhead if ya seen her. I reckon ya have!"
"That's quite the yarn you're spinnin', friend. Best tell it back at the cantina, not here. I'm quickly losin' my mood for socializing. Now, let us be on our way, or things are gonna get needlessly messy."
Several tense seconds passed, and glares of dark intent were exchanged. Mal wasn't looking for a gunfight, but come hell or high water, he'd finish one if the others were keen to start it. "Aw hell, boss, these guys don't know shit from shinola about that girl. She probably already took off!" Another of the gang, a voice of reason, gave the leader pause. After a few more tense seconds, the gang leader brought his hand away from his pistol and turned, waving his followers to follow.
Mal turned, looked at Jayne, and let out a relieved breath. "I coulda taken 'em, Mal. Could still." "Just take the damned crate onto the ship!" Mal grumbled, thoroughly ready to leave Bernadette behind him. Mal and Jayne entered the cargo hold to find everyone, including Camellia, waiting for them. "Haven't even gotten off the ground, and you already owe me," Mal remarked. @parcxysm
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Okay, I am intrigued based on your post and I have to know - what are your single saddest headcanons for Kaitlyn, Dylan and Ryan? -Drylan blog runner
I'm so glad you asked. Hoooo ok buckle up because some of these are doozies.
There's also a lot of parent stuff in here. So if you got mommy/daddy issues, be warned before continuing x
Kaitlyn
Now we know literally nothing about Kaitlyn other than the fact that her and Jacob have been friends since they were kids, so she's basically a blank canvas ready to be covered in sad, sad paint.
But what else do we know about our beautiful Kaitlyn? She's tough and super independent. You know what kind of kids are that independent at a young age? Kids who were forced to be.
Her parents had super high expectations of her growing up but were never around to support her when she needed it. They did everything shy of outright neglecting her. She adapted and got so good at passing off as this perfect, responsible, independent daughter that her parents never bothered trying to support her, in fact they just added more expectations onto her. She'd get the "we're so disappointed in you" speech if she faltered for one day but would never get congratulated for succeeding over and over. I think she also has younger siblings who can do no wrong in their parents eyes. She loves them but also can't help but resent them a little bit for getting the childhood she was denied. Some days she feels more like their nanny than their older sister.
She got older and her parents would act all smug to their friends and co workers like they'd raised the perfect daughter when in reality, she raised herself. The kicker is that she so desperately yearns for their approval. No matter how angry she gets at them, she still craves their validation.
She's SEVERELY TOUCH STARVED BECAUSE HER PARENTS NEVER HUGGED HER. On bad days, if she sees a parent hugging their child, she'll go kick something and cry. A teacher said he was proud of her on her last day before graduation and she very nearly wept. And she'll never admit it but it's one of the reasons she's held on so tight to Jacob all these years because he's the one person who's always been there.
She's tough because she had to be, not because she wanted to be.
Dylan
Oh Dylan...
Sweet...sweet blorbo.
How do I pick just one of my many hcs?
Let's stick with the parent theme. So Dylan's general vibe gives me two certainties about his home life.
1: parents are absolutely divorced.
2: only child (at first)
With all of Dylan's issues, coping and defense mechanisms, there's simply no way he has a healthy relationship with his parents. At best it would be an aloof one.
Dylan has all the insecurities and social awkwardness of an only child whose emotional needs were neglected during his formative years. I think his parents had him when they were young and got married instead of having an abortion, which they then made Dylan's problem until they eventually got divorced and his dad moved away when Dylan was in middle school.
They are the sole reason for his lack of self esteem and fear of rejection by making him feel like he needed to be grateful for existing.
Present day, Dylan's dad is remarried with what Dylan spitefully refers to as his "do-over family" at Thanksgiving dinners. He married a woman who's like four years older than Dylan and they have two twin toddlers. In her defense, she's lovely. His dad on the other hand, Dylan has no relationship with. Dylan broke down one day and pointed out how he's a completely different man now who actually cares about his new sons. So now his dad mainly just gives him money and pays for things for him in an attempt at making up for it that doesn't take any real effort. Dylan figures it's better than nothing. He looks after his half brothers sometimes if his step-mom asks. He tries really hard not to take his resentment out on them and channels it all towards his dad. The only time you'll see Dylan truly angry is if he's interacting with his dad.
His relationship with his mom is complicated. She's invested in him and proud of all of his academic achievements but she's proud of a version of Dylan she made up in her head. She doesnt actually know anything about him. I think she has some narcissistic tendencies and did a total 180 after the divorce, acting like she's always been a perfect supportive mother and denies any attempt Dylan makes at holding her accountable. So he just gave up. She loves him and that's what's important but he also once overheard her tell one of her friends that he "just hasn't met the right girl yet."
Ryan
My babygirl...
We actually do have some details about Ryan that could go any which way. The "Mom isn't exactly around" line is stuck to my brain like a barnacle. Because what does that mean? There's so many options. And there's absolutely no mention of another parent but considering his attachment towards Chris, we can assume they're not around anymore, for whatever reason.
Ryan was diagnosed with autism when he was a kid but never got any help with it. His mom tried her best but Ryan's other parent either died before they could be helpful or left because they decided raising an autistic child was too much effort. Ryan's struggled to make friends his whole life because he was never taught any coping mechanisms that would have really helped him out. He had to learn them on his own. He started going to camp at the end of elementary/beginning of middle school to try and make connections with kids his own age rather than only befriending much younger kids and adults. He ended up bonding with the reclusive werewolf siblings.
Ryan's general aloofness and monotony lead to him saying pretty upsetting things in a either a blunt or vague way. For this sad headcanon, "Mom isn't exactly around." Because she's sick. Maybe terminally ill or maybe she had a serious accident and now she's bed ridden or brain dead. Either way, she's in the hospital for good.
I think it happened recently, which is why Ryan's asking Chris for advice at camp. Chris definitely knew the full story so Ryan didn't have to elaborate. Ryan had his plan all sorted out. He was going to animation school and then suddenly his life came crashing down around him and he had to make immediate adjustments. He seriously considered not going to college because he didn't want to just leave his sister, but also the town where his mom is in hospital. Chris gives him the myopic "family is important spiel" which just makes him more conflicted (I know Chris meant well but that was awful advice). He came to camp to get his mind off of everything stressful at home. How well that turned out.
Ryan's desperately trying to make connections but also feels like he can't make choices for himself anymore. It also plays a major part in why he seems so distant concerning Kaitlyn and Dylan because yeah, the thought of having someone to be with sounds nice but he doesn't wanna drag someone he cares about into his sad messy life when he doesn't even know what he's doing.
#it was so hard to keep these short#the quarry#kaitlyn ka#dylan lenivy#ryan erzahler#drylan#ask#anyway hope anyone with parental issues dont find this#this was fun tho i needed to get them out of my head
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