#but do not come to my blog with a condescending tone and expect me to be fucking nice

[onyourhyuck]

MRS NA? | NA JAEMIN. | PART FOUR.

— Prologue: “I’m not your servant, I’m your wife Jaemin.” + “Okay, I sense I may have said this wrongly to you.”

— Summary: Wherein Go Yeeun wakes up from a coma and meets Na Jaemin claiming to be her husband and have five children together.

— Genre: jaemin series. Romance. Found family. Mystery. Smut. Crack. Fluffiness.

— Notes: THIS IS A JAEMIN SERIES ON MY BLOG. reblog and follow me for more daily updates.

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Go Yeeun walks down the plains of the farm. The animals were groomed and dressed into newer coats. The different hairbrushes for the horses had to be used which took longer than doing a simple hairstyle for yourself. Taking care of a farm alone was no joke a very hard job and task. Many of the animals were very important and so Yeeun had no choice but to take care of them, because her lovely husband who works a 9 to 5 job couldn’t do that. Yeeun doesn’t remember anything to say to Jaemin. She doesn’t know if she actually agreed to these chores, to do them. But she took a wild leap and believes her so called husband.

Was he even a husband at this point? Yeeun has been stuck for two months trying to regain her memories of Jaemin and the five children. Nothing came to mind. Sometimes her dreams feels like a puzzle more than a dream with no meaning.

At this point the young woman feels so misplaced. Like a red wine bottle placed between two beer aisles. She feels like a stuck out sore thumb that you can point out in a second. Something about this place doesn’t feel like home. This place feels new and foreign to Yeeun.

And she cannot believe she chose a life like this? I mean a farm? Chores all day? Take care of children all the freaking time and when the kids go to sleep, Yeeun has to deal with an emotionally unavailable husband who barely makes an effort to understand her? This life sounds far from perfect. Far from normal. Far from what Yeeun believes she would have wanted in the past before her memories were erased from her mind.

Opening the backyard door, the young with the black long hair stuck in a messy bun wearing rain boots and overalls sweating from head to toe because she was doing everything to make the animals happy and all fed and cleaned, the overalls had stains of mud and reeking of cow’s straws from the hay. Not expecting anyone to be home. Yeeun’s round beautiful shaped eyes resembling a diamond nearly widen at the sight of the man with a slight tone and muscular build in the kitchen making himself a hot coffee. He wore a reddish and white flannel with crossed squares, a white tank top that make his muscular chest and pecs visible at times.

As much as Yeeun was shocked she was slightly confused too. Why was he back so early? He only left three hours ago.

The woman takes off the boots and then comes forward watching him sip the warm coffee. “What are you doing here back so early?” Yeeun questions with an eyebrow raise and he looks back seeing that Yeeun was already finished with her chores. He smirks raising his eyebrows at the question. “Oh hey bunny lips.” He smirks twirling around like a jelly bean with his body.

Jaemin leans against the counter as his eyes watch Yeeun’s figure. She looks slightly exhausted from doing chores all morning until afternoon. It makes him become smug as he saw Yeeun sit down with a groan as she looks at him.

He turns around when Yeeun was waiting for his answer clearly and he opens his mouth. “Ah. I’m just so good at my work that I finished early. Aren’t i a good husband my darling wife?” The tone he used was somehow mocking and a bit condescending.

Yeeun frowns but doesn’t say anything. She already feels slightly annoyed at him since the last time. They haven’t really spoke much. Not like they had much to talk about unless it’s about children. “Right…” Yeeun trails as she sighs. “Why don’t you help around the house then if you’re so good at your job?” She now blasts an invitation to Jaemin, that wasn’t so much of an invitation.

She is tired of doing chores all the freaking time. Jaemin should take some responsibilities around this household too.

His expression fell down. “But Yeeun that’s your job.” He expressed with an obvious hint that he won’t be doing that since it’s meant to be ‘hers’ to do and not Jaemin’s end of the deal.

The woman wasn’t pleased with the answer and any minute now Yeeun feels the boiling pent up rage inside her stomach aching and screaming to come out and tell her so called husband off right now. Yeeun would’ve divorced him by now, just saying she would’ve picked those papers up in a heartbeat. But Yeeun was thinking about the children and so she didn’t do that; the children matter the most. So Yeeun feels only more and more angry and frustrated at Jaemin’s lack of responsibility.

Yeeun slants upwards on the chair at the table as she takes off the boots now, with a stomp on the ground now. It’s clear that her body was showing anger but her voice was silent. He could imagine fire burning on her eyes whenever Yeeun looks at him.

It is also slightly misogynistic isn’t it? Yeeun is a woman so why is she doing the womanly house chores in the house? Surely Jaemin is a bit more modern than that considering his not so-fatherly acting decisions.

“Look are you here to just come and go? You’re meant to be here in this house too and as long as you’re living here you should do some chores around to help.”

There was a moment for their eyes to make contact. Jaemin stares at the woman telling him now this as she’s staring back at him unamused by how his blank eyes were slightly different than before. He looks like he didn’t want to help at all but when Yeeun phrased it like this he feels like he has no choice but to do it? He just never did a single chore in his life. Jaemin opens his mouth to say something but nothing came out so he closed it, and he raised his finger and puts it back down when his lips sealed. Yeeun’s voice comes off as a tired and annoyed sigh.

“I’ll be fair on you. You can wash the dishes on Saturdays and Sundays. And you can also do the laundry on those days too.”

Really? Jaemin couldn’t believe it you’re seriously giving him chores to do on his alone time! On his weekend where he doesn’t have to go to work. It’s the only time he can relax without the children wanting his attention too. And usually he would be at the bar or hanging out with his friends too.

He gave a slight frustrated fake smile at his wife. “Yeeun can you be slightly more lenient on me? I work. I want my alone time too.”

“Funny. I want my alone time too but I don’t get any at all.” Yeeun shot back and Jaemin felt his brain shutting instantly down. Fair enough, it looks like Yeeun has him cornered.

Hands running through his hair as he stares back at Yeeun and he gives her a slight nod as he sits down now in front of Yeeun as they’re at the table watching their faces. He was staring at her as he spoke now with a perusal sweet smile. “Alright how about just Saturday and i clean the dishes.” Jaemin now asked with both of his eyebrows turning up raised, as his voice was clearly trying to convince and change Yeeun’s decisions.

But she was too stubborn and Yeeun wasn’t the type of woman to fall for Jaemin’s tricks from getting away from doing his own chores. Yeeun was fair considering she does everything around here so it was fair. Jaemin was just avoiding her and her demands as his wife.

She leans forward and slams her hands in front of the table shaking it a bit which then flinched Jaemin as he wasn’t expecting Yeeun to really be this commanding and close to his face when shaking that table that held their elbows together on it. “I’m not your servant, I’m your wife Jaemin.”

Yeeun’s words echo in his ears. She feels more like a servant than a wife right now, and Jaemin’s eyes widen a little.

He groans a bit back at her words but he was now truly feeling like there’s no way he can get out of this now. Jaemin sighs.

“Okay, I sense I may have said this wrongly to you.” Jaemin replies to her as he looks at Yeeun again and he finally nods, without much choice, he doesn’t like this at all. “I’ll do the chores on Saturdays and Sundays.”

He then adds quickly causing Yeeun’s expression to falter downwards. “But on one condition.”

Yeeun has a bad feeling now that he’s saying one condition, and she can only think of bad things right now. “What condition will that be?” She sighs.

Yeeun’s expecting the worst.

He smirks leaning closer. “I take you on a date how about that?”

She furrows her eyebrows. “Why a date?” This was very sudden and somehow when Jaemin always suggests something there will always be some weirdly suspicious motive behind it all. Yeeun can’t help but shake this off.

He hums a bit. “Do I need a reason to take my wife on a date away from the kids?” He now stated and it makes Yeeun silent.

He had a point and she has no comeback to say to counter this so Yeeun trails quietly. “Have we went on a date before then?”

There was a little silence as Jaemin smirks and leans closer nodding. “Oh yeah. We did before once. You can tell how that went.” He states with a flirtatious laugh and smile as he’s now suggesting something completely different.

What did he mean? Yeeun thought.

“How did that date go?” She said confused and Jaemin found it surprisingly very innocent reaction of hers. He leans a bit closer and wraps one arm around Yeeun as he shifts her weight and chair to move even closer towards him where he sat in the chair. His playful eyes never leave Yeeun’s confused and curious eyes. It’s clear that she has no clue, and of course she has no clue.

She has no memories. No recollection. It just makes this more or so funny for Jaemin.

When their faces are even closer he whispers to Yeeun’s ears. “How do you think we made Yongsoo, bunny lips?”

The heart raced like crazy. The eyes widen like sweats coming down the Iris pupils. She grew redder on her complexion now and Yeeun snaps away from Jaemin as she scowls now. “Oh god do you have to say this to me?” Yeeun complained, it was unpleasant and it made her flustered. Embarrassed.

Jaemin on the other hand was loving her reactions. He just loves it when she rejects him so equivalently to how much she’s squeamish at the thought too.

It only takes more for Jaemin to throw in a baby-making joke there and there to have his wife Yeeun leaving him alone.

“You asked. Don’t be complaining to me.” Jaemin smirks as he looks back at Yeeun caressing some of the strands behind her ears.

He took a moment to admire her red cheeks. Somehow she has a feeling there’s a bigger motive behind his ‘date’ he’s asking her to go on right now. “So is that a yes then?” He now asked her again with a playful smile. “Don’t leave your husband hanging here, Yeeun.” He sweetly adds.

She groans mentally. Yeeun looks at him with a flat expression between her eyebrows and eyes. “Okay I guess we can go on a date.”

“Perfect. Thank you, Darling. Get ready because we are leaving at 6.” Jaemin remarks standing up and leaving the kitchen which makes Yeeun widen her eyes.

She wasn’t expecting it to be this quick? Now she’s left thinking what was his whole deal with this deal thing. They really haven’t been communicating much to be going on a date despite having children together. Yeeun sighs. This is going to be a long day.

The children were all rousing up at their father when they now were told they won’t be home with Yeeun or him. They were shocked at first. Haewon, the cute little girl with two braids holding her bunny plushie was the first one to speak out with a pout clearly not liking this. “Awh I want mommy. I don’t want uncle Jeno. He’s not fun at all. He thinks he’s funny like Kevin Hart.”

Oh wow how awkward Jaemin thought, he wonders what his best friend has told his children last time when telling a joke considering they all find him extremely unpleasant right now, or maybe they want their mother so bad they don’t want anyone else right now. Usually the boys like Jeno when they get babysat by his friend.

But now? Yeeun completely changed them. Jaemin was left there trying to make his children calm down and not be so disappointed. He didn’t expect the children to be so attached to Yeeun but hey, they are and they really look up to her so much.

“Dad can you take Jeno on the date instead? Mommy can stay with us.” Insu the one with the slight wispy lips on his words whenever he talks now said tugging on Jaemin’s wrist.

Jaemin laughs a little. “Come on what will me and Jeno do on a date if we go together? Anyways we won’t take too long.” He said now as he would huddle the kids as he kneels down. “Be good to Jeno, kids, and I mean it.” When he brought them in a circle to tell them the rules again. He was serious with them now and he spoke with intentions of not having them repeat what they did last time to Jeno…

He starts to list their mischievous pranks they always do and get in trouble for when they get babysat.

“No paper bombs.”

“No filling the water tub until it overflows.”

The boys whine when he said no more pranks with the bathtub. Hanuel was enjoying that one, especially when it was his idea. Despite being the eldest he was a genius at pranks.

Jaemin looks back at Insung, the twin with the wider cute ears sticking out. He flicks his son’s ears warning. “And that counts no playing with fire, Insung. I mean it.”

The boy nods slowly, he looks disappointed when his father said no to fire. Jaemin really doesn’t know how these kids came up with these ideas.

“Alright. Be good kids. Mommy and i will come back home soon.” Jaemin said now and the front door revealing their mother coming out wearing a new outfit that they never once saw on their mother before. She looks more dressed up and she even put on makeup?

Haewon gasps wowing first as behind Jaemin Yeeun was walking outside the house. “Whoa mommy you look so pretty.” Her daughter exclaims and she was literally eyeing her mother as if Yeeun was like a real life-doll.

The eldest boy Hanuel and the twins Insu and Insung were watching their mother with a jealous eye. Why did their mom go with their dad? She was meant to be with them watching their new episode of their cartoon show on tv!

Yongsoo was already crying. “Mommy nooooo nooo don’t goooo.”

The children didn’t want their mother to go and have fun with their dad because let’s be honest, they love Yeeun too much to let her go right now and their attachment issues? Are severally attached. They like Jeno but they can’t compare him to their amazing mother who does everything for them. She knows everything they like. Meanwhile Jeno doesn’t know anything except bad jokes and he ends up getting pranked by them.

The last time Jeno actually babysat them, he woke up ducktaped in the pig pens. He spent the next hour that day with the pigs, his entire body covered in the grey thick duck tape. And the kids were all making a mess at home too with the freedom they had back then.

Yeeun was surprised to see her children so unhappy and it somehow made her heart beat so much. She gives them a loving smile all and hugs them all in a crowding manner and a huddle. “Oh you guys, I’ll be back soon and I promise when I come back I’ll buy you your favourite ice lollies on the way yeah?” The children seem a little more obedient and happy with that deal.

The two men, Jeno and Jaemin now make eye contact as they try not to smile too much. Jaemin has to give it to Yeeun. She has found a bond with the children he couldn’t do at all. Yeeun was so good with them now.

And not to mention how beautiful Yeeun looks right now Jaemin found his eyes stuck on Yeeun. The short sleeve top with slight pale-ish green colour really goes well with that milky soft complexion. The little handbag strand on her arms and the long flared jeans with the boots? It was definitely an outfit that he likes. It shows off every curve and every beautiful detailing Yeeun so much.

Yeeun sighs and looks at Jaemin who she saw staring at her in a very obvious and different manner and direction.

“What?” Yeeun blurts out confused, she looks down at her outfit and then back at her husband. “Do I have something on my face?” She half panics and Jaemin shakes his head. “No, no,”

He clears his voice. “Nothing. I was zoning out.” He brushed away the own thoughts of Yeeun looking beautiful. “Get inside the car Yeeun, we gotta go.” The woman was brought to reality and she nods getting inside the passenger car.

The car clicks and she looks out the window waving at the five children. “You sure your friend can handle them?” Yeeun would ask looking at the driver seat where her husband was sitting now starting the engine with the key in the car hole and they soon drive off slowly leaving the farm and their house property. The drive in their town roads were slowly coming into view and Jaemin let’s out a soft laugh at Yeeun’s question. He trusts Jeno. They went through high school, through kindergarten. They were friends since they were very small at this point Jaemin would put his life on the line for Lee Jeno.

With one hand Jaemin would drive the steering wheel on the car turning round the corner while his left hand was now moving forward to hold Yeeun’s hand softly. He looks back at her for a second only because he needed all his attention on the road as he was driving. “Don’t worry about them being okay, yeah? Jeno is someone I trust with all my heart. He will take good care of them until we go home.”

The hand contact was something new it made Yeeun’s heart race as she saw their hands touching now a lot longer than a second too. She sighs. Jaemin was right this was a date and not a worrying therapy session about her children. “You’re right. So where are you taking me then? Some fancy restaurant?” Yeeun smirks guessing.

She hopes it’s a fancy restaurant where she can have steak or something like that. It would be a perfect date in her book. If Yeeun had to pick. The steak and wine combination for a date at a fancy eloquent restaurant would be an amazing date to go with Jaemin at.

The mention of a fancy restaurant makes Jaemin laugh and shake his head, he was amused to say the least that his wife has high expectations. Well. He’s about to lower them and say goodbye to a fancy restaurant idea. “Oh no no darling. No fancy restaurant.” He smirks.

“I’ll be taking you somewhere more fun and traditional bunny lips.” He smirks wiggling his eyebrows forward which makes Yeeun already think something so bad.

She shouldn’t be having negative thoughts but the way Jaemin was lowering her expectations of what their date was gonna be like. Well. Yeeun was seated in the far tightly as she lets her husband drive them to the secret location.

The drive to the place Jaemin was taking Yeeun to was a bit far from their home but not that far if you don’t walk. By far it was a decent drive. He would come out of the car and Yeeun opens her car door by herself. She wasn’t even sure why she expected Jaemin to open the car door for her, he was walking ahead and when he saw behind that the woman was not following he yells in front motioning a waving hand at her to follow him. “Come on, we can’t miss this tickets!” He yells.

‘Ugh he can’t even open the door and wait for me?…’ Yeeun sighs in her head thoughts.

The area they lived in was always the countryside and almost kinda poor-like with working class. So when she starts to walk following Jaemin behind who bought their fair tickets. It was like an open fair that opened up today. He took her to a local fair with many running games available to do. They walk side by side and Yeeun’s eyes widen at how many rides there was too.

It wasn’t something Yeeun expected, that’s for sure.

He saw her expression searching everything she’s seeing as if getting information where she was at. Jaemin smirks and grabs her hand now. “Come on, don’t get lost. Take my hand.” The man lead her and Yeeun let’s him taking her hand as they held hands while walking amongst other people.

Somehow the warmth in her heart grew when Jaemin was holding her hand so tight leading her to a certain stand where it caught her attention. They were selling all sorts of prizes if you manage to shoot the running duck toys on the wall with the shotgun that has pebbles in it.

Yeeun raised an eye at one of the prizes. It was a a bracelet made up of string but it had a little gemstone in the middle, it was something the young woman noticed first.

Her husband looks at Yeeun and stands behind her to see what she was watching so intensely. “Ah you want the arm bracelet, Yeeun?” Jaemin smirks and he thinks it’s an easy one way job to get for her right now.

He didn’t waste a second but motions to the stand owner. “One shot gun. I want that bracelet up there as the prize. How much do I need to shoot?” The stand owner looks back at the prize and then looks back at Jaemin. “Five ducks.”

‘Five… there’s no way he can manage to shoot five ducks right?’ Yeeun wasn’t sure actually. She can’t remember if he was good at shooting or if he knew how to work it out.

When staring at the man grabbing the shotgun and getting it ready with a proper aim at the running ducks on the walls. It’s like goose hunting. He was chasing the ducks with the aim trying to get one. He was silent and focused when Yeeun was watching him and it feels almost intense right now. Even the owner of the stand was now watching Jaemin with not much expectations.

But even if no one was believing in him. Jaemin shown no fear and no mistakes. The shotgun runs up and he ends up getting the first duck. It struck so quickly that when Jaemin reloads the shotgun it makes Yeeun’s eyes widen trying to make sense of how quick the pebbles were shot at the duck.

He got one, and that one duck turned into four other ducks as he manages to shoot all five remaining ducks to win the bracelet prize.

Jaemin smirks as he takes the bracelet and puts the shotgun back. He then whistles approaching Yeeun on the side. “What’s with the surprised look?” He laughs a bit seeing Yeeun pale as she wasn’t expecting her husband to be so good at aiming with a shotgun.

“I didn’t know you knew how to shoot?” Yeeun said back with a laugh. Jaemin’s smirk never leaves his face as his big round eyes and his long fluttering eyelashes poke at Yeeun’s expression when taking a step forward holding out her arm. The softness of his touch makes her heart race so much more prominently; and his breath was deep as Jaemin’s soft still eyes looking down at her wrist as he tied the bracelet on her wrist finally. “There is a lot of things you don’t remember about me, bunny lips.” Jaemin’s deep and low voice spoke with a smirk as Yeeun looks up at him taking back her wrist when he was done putting on the bracelet.

There was silence between them but Yeeun and Jaemin were brought back to reality when the smell of food passing the fair streets makes her stomach tingle. The growling sound makes Yeeun feel slightly exposed.

She completely forgot to eat earlier today. Jaemin looks at Yeeun with a soft laugh when seeing her become slightly shocked to hear her stomach make such a loud sound. “Hmm, hungry Yeeun?” He grins and she looks at Jaemin with an eye roll. “No, I’m starving.” She emphasised.

There was Yeeun again, with her little eye rolls thrown at his words as he asks the most obvious questions. They begin to walk somewhere more quiet. The fair was getting quite busy the later it gets and so on. Jaemin didn’t really want to eat dinner filled with crowds. And he most certainly prefers some alone time too with Yeeun. It’s a luxury to be alone like this after all. They might as well make most of it.

There was the coastal sea and the brick walls that you can watch the sea crashing against. Yeeun puts her handbag down on the brick wall as she leans with her elbows forward watching the ocean waves crashing down, back and forward, upwards. It sounded so magical to be close to the sea like this and Yeeun closed her eyes inhaling the air.

It feels so cold and refreshing. It makes Yeeun’s body feel so much better. Currently she was alone waiting for someone to come back. Jaemin told her he’s getting food so he told her to wait here for him until then.

When Yeeun was wondering where the man could’ve gotten lost Jaemin appears behind her and leans on the brick wall. He takes out a foiled food. Yeeun was expecting something cleaner, less greasy. The sight of the filled up sandwich with chopped up meat and melted cheese makes Yeeun salivate but also, she wasn’t expecting to be eating greased up meat and cheese.

Jaemin hums taking a bite of the sandwich too. “Here you take a bite you’re hungry aren’t you?” She scowls and shakes her head. “I’m good, you eat up. I’ll eat at home.”

The words she said makes Jaemin smirk as he took another bite and puts the sandwich under Yeeun’s nose which makes her smell how good it actually was. She was just stubborn to want to take a bite out of something that’s greasy and more un-healthy in her eyes.

“Come on, Bunny lips. Don’t be stubborn. One bite?” Jaemin urgently said as he watches her fighting her inner urges and conflict.

Yeeun murmurs. “No I’m fine, not hungry anymore. Looks unpleasant.”

But the moment her eyes were watching the sandwich Jaemin takes a bite out again she couldn’t help but gulp. Her hungry stomach was growing more hungry watching Jaemin eat and she slowly comes closer.

“Fine. Give me one bite…” Yeeun trails as Jaemin smirks giving her the sandwich in the foil paper. When he saw the girl take a bite out of the sandwich it fills his loving eyes on her. He loves seeing Yeeun try the food he eats only.

It’s something he’s used to. Yeeun wasn’t so used to this kind of food, but when he saw her obvious reaction it was clear that she loved it. The moment the bite she took from the sandwich Yeeun let’s out a soft moan and nods as she ate. “Mhmm…” It was clear that his wife loved it, and she was wrong about this food. Jaemin smirks. “Is it good?”

She gulps down chewing the sandwich, she takes another bite going back for seconds, it makes Jaemin almost proud he introduced Yeeun to some good culture over here. “Oh god how come i didn’t find this earlier?”

Yeeun exclaims.

He chuckles and he motions his hands to the sandwich. “Let me take a bite too—“ Yeeun moves her hands away and she shakes her head. Jaemin laughs as she moved away. “Okay okay you eat up, it’s good you’re eating.” He states giving up. It’s obvious she won’t be sharing as it’s too good to her right now. Like a new addiction probably.

Yeeun and Jaemin turn to the ocean view as it was nighttime with a cold breeze running against them and their clothes. She finished eating the sandwich now but Jaemin and Yeeun continue to watch the waves crashing.

“Hmm did you ever travel, Jaemin?” Yeeun asked the man and he softly smiles. “No, but I wish I did.” He sighs.

“Many people born in these deprived areas don’t have the money to travel.” Jaemin started to state the facts. The poor people stay poor.

Yeeun looks at Jaemin softly and she gives him a gentle smile as her hands brush over his hand intertwining their fingers together. Somehow holding hands became natural today. They never held hands before until today.

“Someday we can travel. I’ll make it a promise.” Yeeun softly said to him. She spoke in a soft spoken tone that Jaemin couldn’t even imagine to hear from her ever.

It was different. They’re now speaking openly with softness. It wasn’t like before at all.

Jaemin’s eyes watch Yeeun’s as she said that she would make this come true for him and it made his lips seal together in a thin line.

Sometimes he can feel this invisible thread pulling him towards her heart even more.

The pull, the rough drag, the urge to kiss Yeeun too. Deep inside beneath his harden skin and his high iron walls Jaemin keeps up, there was this heavy heavy gravity of Yeeun’s words resting at the end pit.

And it’s changing him very slowly, breaking at the iron walls he keeps on.

Their bodies were still but Jaemin’s head tilts on the side and softly moves closer letting their lips touch softly. The kiss feels like standing on top of the finest silk or on top of a cloud. Yeeun’s eyes closed and Jaemin’s hands brushed up on her face caressing his thumbs down her cheeks, deepening their soft kiss, she feels the hitching breath stop and her cheeks growing warmer.

The sound of their lips leaving, it was like a wet soft small sound between them that their kiss made when it came off. Jaemin looks down at Yeeun and he slowly brings his hands down her face, admiring how beautiful Yeeun looks tonight.

“I want to apologise for you know…not helping around the house and for not being there for the kids.” Jaemin trails awkwardly. He wasn’t the best at making apologies but it was his goal to give one to Yeeun.

Yeeun was the most shocked though. An apology from Jaemin?

Perhaps Jaemin was changing, Yeeun thought. “Thank you, Jaemin…”

Meanwhile back at home the children were having the time of their lives with their uncle Jeno. But it must be the opposite for their uncle right now, because this feels like utter hell on earth.

Jeno was tied against the stairway railings now with his hands handcuffed by dog leads. One of the children, he can’t remember who, managed to tie his hands with dog leashes!

“Whoever tied me come untie me! Your parents will be hearing about this.” Jeno warns as he sighs, he wishes judgement day came and took him now because he can’t deal with babysitting five rotten devils.

Hanuel the eldest was watching tv with a tub of ice cream and a large spoon. “Uncle Jeno you should really stop shouting, it’s pointless.” Hanuel smartly suggests.

“Be glad you’re not stuck with the pigs like last time.” The older boy said again with a smirk as Hanuel went back to eating the ice cream.

Jeno wants to roll his eyes at the boy’s smart-ass attitude. This kid is meant to be the oldest but why was he the meanest?

Then the twins, those twins were making a mess in the kitchen playing with pots and pans. They rattle and rattle everywhere. Meanwhile their older sister Haewon was trying to bake a cake right now. She’s making the cake batter.

‘Oh how brilliant,’ Jeno thought. Jaemin and Yeeun are having the time of their lives but back home it was chaos running wild like a spreading fire.

Then Jeno’s thoughts stop when Yongsoo was by the top of the stairs with a skateboard. The youngest boy was there ready to roll over with a skateboard down thinking it’s going to be a smooth ride, but Jeno was there in the way and he will be crashed into.

“Oh… Yongsoo! No! Don’t slide down.” Jeno shouts but he came too late to warn the boy as he rolls down with a skateboard and crashed into Jeno’s back knocking Jeno out cold while Yongsoo was sliding down with a little ‘Weeeeeeeee’ happy sound coming out of the boy’s lips.

Jeno will never be babysitting here again, even if Jaemin paid him like this time! He won’t do it again!

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Sorry this took so long, chapter 5 is coming out this week too!! I decided to release 2 parts this week because I was very far behind this series </33

@onyourhyuck please refer from translating copyrighting and plagiarising my work thank youu! Reblog this fic and follow me for more updates on my blog this is a series!

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[hauntedhokage]

Dom!Tobirama Headcanons

Note: This was a half baked thought that I napped on and now we're here. Story of my blog honestly

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Tobirama is a stern man, with very high expectations for himself and the people he cares about. If you're at your best, it'll be easier to protect you

That naturally translates into him naturally being a stern dominant lover. It's not even something he tries to be - he just is

Fully sees your care and well being as his responsibility and takes that responsibility seriously.

There isn't a single need you have that isn't met (whether you realize it or not).

This includes physical training needs, as well. He personally oversees your shinobi training and conditioning

He's also always thinking at least three steps ahead, and is urging you to do the same.

"What's all this water for?" "Dearest if you have to question then you're not thinking forward enough"

Uses the infinite darkness genjutsu to better train your senses since you should be able to find him regardless of the circumstance since he's able to do the same and no he does not care that not everyone has his sensory abilities. He's not asking you to know everyone in the village, just him and that shouldn't be hard provided the amount of time you spend together

Pet names for you will include: "Dearest/Dearest one", "little one", "my treasure", "beloved", "brat"

But he will be a condescending shit with them when you're training together to spark more of a reaction out of you

He will absolutely use the shadow clone jutsu (that he himself forbade) to provide you with more pleasure if you'd done a particularly good job on a mission or in your training

Will not be fooled by a cute pout. Don't try it, he'll just get annoyed (and slightly amused but mostly annoyed)

"Do you think your antics will sway my decision, brat?" is a line he will use often

He's a great brat tamer but would prefer that you just cooperate, please

"Beloved brat I don't have the patience for your antics today," is another commonly used line

He's stern and straightforward, but he still likes to tease when he has the chance. He likes to have fun, too!

Drops innuendos while in public, just vague enough that those around you won't grasp the joke but you're well aware of the intent behind his words.

Intentionally will be just close enough to touch and will "accidentally" graze your sensitive areas and whisper in your ear constantly to get you worked up over the day, only to ask: "do you have a need for me, dearest?" when you're nearly falling apart in his lap practically begging for him to touch you

Has no preference for what you refer to him as, he knows his place in your life and by your side.

Aftercare is important for him. He knows he can come across as cold or mean due to his straightforward nature, so he always wants to ensure that you know that he cares deeply for you despite his tone

Once he knows what you need, he's always ready to help you come down and relax after a session (training or bedroom, both are intimate and important to him)

Those glasses of water? They're for you, since you'll need to hydrate after such levels of exertion.

Takes the time to prepare baths to your liking, and likes to soak in them while holding you close to him.

Big physical touch/quality time lover, but if you tell him that he's wonderful to you? He won't know how to respond in a way that maintains his collected reputation but know that he appreciates the words of affirmation, too.

#tobirama x you #senju tobirama #tobirama headcanons #tobirama senju headcanons #tobirama x y/n #tobirama senju x reader #tobirama senju x y/n #dom!tobirama #long post

[wilchur]

I don’t even go here but your replies to deepdragons were so needlessly hostile.

“If you found it so disrespectful then why didn’t you block me?” This is childish and hypocritical. If you found their take so bad, why did you go out of your way to go to their blog, find the post, and then argue with them? Why didn’t YOU block them first so you wouldn’t have to see their takes? Why do people need to block you, to actively prevent you from interacting with them entirely, for you to not be rude to them?

People will have shitty takes and you will not agree with every post you see — that’s the nature of fandom. You can’t control how other people post or think and that’s annoying, I get it, but YOU can control how you interact with others. The way you were speaking to that person was so needlessly rude and hostile. Is that how you speak to people in real life? I’m so curious as to what your goal was in talking to them like that. Surely it wasn’t to convince any one of anything. Who would want to agree with someone being so dickish and annoying about something as inconsequential as the politics of elven aging? So, what was all of that for? Did that make you happy or have you just riled yourself up? Do you feel like you accomplished something by speaking to someone like that?

I really hate when people tear others apart for being wrong about fandom things. If you were wrong about something, do you think you would appreciate someone talking to you in the way you spoke to deepdragons? Or would you rather they approach you with respect and understanding? Golden rule and all that, yeah?

You did not have to seek them out and you did not have to engage with them. Next time, either speak to others with respect or just make your own goddamn post. Not everything needs to be a debate.

I also find it funny how you were coming at them for not being faithful for the lore or whatever and then, when someone with more textual evidence than you rebutted your statements and called for you to back up your claims, you were like “I can’t be expected to cite all of my claims like an academic paper!!” Fucking lol. The onus of proof lies only with the people you disagree with, huh?

Have you seen the original post? I'm guessing not because then you'd know that my reply pretty much mirrored the exact condescending tone used by the OP. I also didn't "go out of my way" to do anything. I've said so before and I'll repeat it again: I got an error while reblogging the OG post, went to check the person's blog for what's up with that and the first thing I saw was them calling people stupid for pointing out that They're Not Correct. I already had the post written at that point and I simply copied it from one tab to another. This is the internet, you post something publicly people can and will interact with it unless you stop them. I didn't block the OP because at the time I did not give a shit if they interacted with me or not, I was just setting straight misinfo I see regurgitated over and over again to the point I'm sick of it. Because of the attitude they displayed I was actually fully expecting to get blocked straight away myself.

I'm not actually a dick unless someone annoys me into it. Because sometimes people get annoyed and they're rude, that's just how people work. But I guess you know that? Since you're annoyed at me and wrote a whole essay trying to make me feel bad?

And just to finish this off.. none of my statements were rebutted. I got lore dumped on and half of it wasn't even interpreted correctly from the linked books. Yes, I don't need to cite like it's an academic paper because all the goddamn info needed was already in my first post. Astarion was not a child because he was a grown ass man with a government job. There's no basis for "Ascended Vampires can't love" because Larian homebrews their vampires so the written lore doesn't apply. That's literally it. People on this site just can't fucking read.

#ask #anon

[saphhicwitchbitch]

Imagine: if aziraphale had used the gun in the book.

Hi! I just copied my writing from a previous reblog so that i could have the scenario as mine on my blog.

The final encyclopaedia crashed down the stairs.

"What are you going to do now. You are surrounded. Your humans can no longer fight. Your dear, dear Crowley hasn't come back for his pet. You are alone. You are out of options. You are helpless angel". Shax smirked as the final word slithered out of her mouth. Her tone condescending and triumphant as she had seemingly won.

A smirk also glided onto Aziraphales face, "Actually, you are wrong"

Shax had not expected such confidence from her enemy. Sure, angels were known for their high and mighty cockiness but surely, surely they could recognize defeat?

What shax had not realized, firstly, is that Aziraphale had not once utilised any of his angelic powers or training. He had once been the protector of the eastern gate, and that job was not given to any lightweights, it was the same reason why he was supposed to lead a batallion if Armageddon hadn't been thwarted by him and Crowley. Secondly, and this relates to the failure of the end of times, Aziraphale doesn't do well taking instructions and doing what he is told. It's how he has fumbled his way through the millenia he has been on the surface. Sure, he followed heavenly orders when he wanted to, but as soon as they wanted him to do something he didn't necessarily agree with, all bets were off the table. He didn't ask, he just did and it was heavens poor monitoring of this principality that allowed his nature in the way he does things to be a bit more frivolous. Thirdly, and this is one of the most important bits, you don't get through centuries in London without picking up a few bits here and there, going a bit native as the heavenly order might say.

"What-What do you mean 'actually you are wrong'? You are helpless to my legion! You have no help! Crowley and heaven have left you behind! You are nothing in comparison to me!"

"Again, you are wrong" gently spoke Aziraphale, a polite smile now occupying his face as he gently reached to grab a copy of 'The Strange Case of Doctor Jekyll and Mister Hyde (and other stories)'. Gently he glided his fingers over the leather cover, he first got this book a few years after it's release in 1886. It has caught his eye in around 1893 when publishers decided to compile this story and the works of others in one book. And while he would have like to have individual copies of each story, he couldn't resist the beautiful binding of the book at that time. Of course, this didn't matter too much in the long run as by 1927 he had come into possession of hand binded copies of each story. Which is why he felt no particular remorse when....editing this version.

"What are you doing, now is not the time to be caressing a dusty book Mr Fell," whispered Nina in a hushed but agitated voice. The demons were starting to slowly move in again after being at ease for the few seconds in which Shax had been talking and Nina would quite like to make her way out of this alive thank you very much.

"Listen to the human,"Shax spoke." Stop delaying and plead for forgiveness at the ruthless claws of my demons!"

" Oh you are still quite incorrect i'm afraid. You see, it will be your army that will need to be asking her grace for forgiveness soon enough."

With a rapid movement Aziraphale had flipped open the book, pulled out a small hand gun and lifted it to eye level, finger resting in the trigger.

Shax laughed, "A gun! You couldn't possibly dream of harming us with that human contraption!"

"Incorrect once again I'm afraid. You see your mortal bodies are susceptible to human wounds, a bullet in the right place would discorporate you. However, as precaution this gun has been consecrated and each bullet blessed using holy water. Forget inconveniently discorporated, you will be permanently gone. I didn't want to use this, violence has never really been my fortitude but i have warned you many times and asked you politely to leave a plethora more. Now I'm fed up and just want to keep Nina and Maggie safe. Get out of my book shop!"

His index finger squeezed the trigger and a bullet flew straight though a demons head. Immediately discorporating them and leaving their body to slowly break down on the floor at Shax's feet.

#out of character i know #and im sorry #but i couldnt resist #good omens #good omens 2 #good omens season 2 #aziraphale #crowley #good omens spoilers #short scenario #good omens season 2 imagine #ive never touched a gun so ignore that probably inacturate writing of it #mini fanfic #kinda #neil gaiman #ineffable husbands

[shatar-aethelwynn]

To what "one-sided feud existing only in his mind", to what "hilarious anger", and to what "vitriol-spitting" are you referring, my dear? In our last interaction I was very polite and I tried earnestly (although in vain) to have a serious dialogue with you. But you have not appreciated my efforts for a dialogue in good faith and you attack me now with ridiculous claims. You also misrepresent grossly in your last posts my positions on a certain topic, in a way which is not particularly honest intellectually. I wonder why you act like this. Do you really need so desperately some attention and patting on your head from your friends, the great tumblr scholars? Moreover, permit me to say, my dear, that you are not in position to lecture me about proper critical use of sources and historical methodology. I say this because not only you made almost... 200 posts to defend against an obscure Arab nationalist author the historicity of the Biblical Exodus, but also because you tried to promote some months ago on this site as serious scientific paper a piece of creationist pseudoscience, which claimed that a "cosmic airburst" would have destroyed ancient "Sodom"! If I remember well, the backlash to this move of yours was so strong that even your eminent friends, who had tried to present you as authority in Biblical history, saw you eventually as liability and distanced themselves from you, despite the fact that their scholarly standards are not exactly the highest. Lol.

Reading comprehension really isn't you're strong suite is it my dear. Thank you for confirming you're stalking my blog and hate-reading though! I've also been polite, if amused, but your tone has been increasingly condescending. Expected I suppose if you are our old friend (3! years! this is so stupid!).

Let's see - 200 posts to defend against an author - hun, I was having fun with a book I came across that was still getting positive reviews that year. I didn't even finish because I got bored with how repeptitive it was. You of all people should understand the concept of hate reading. You do it so well. (Incidentally, you may want to take a break and come back in a few months, because your repetativeness is also starting to become boring. A break would solve that.)

As for Sodom, it was a legitimate question that I answered based on the information I had at the time I was tagged. After which someone (was that you too) said I was wrong and gave a source for a contradictory view, that can basically be summarized as "these people are wrong solely because they believe something in the Bible might have been true". And guess what, that was fine. Because, again, I understand the concept of nuance, and I don't claim to agree with the archeologists in question on their personal beliefs. The question was whether Sodom happened. I gave the two sites currently claimed for it. And I agreed that science could potentially prove both wrong in the future. That's how science and archaeology work. And I really don't understand why you would think my friends were distancing themselves from me on it. It was a short topic, not inside their fields, and they have lives outside this site that take their attention. Do you?

This behavior, by the way, is probably why anon asked if there was a feud. Text may be the worst format for conveying intention and tone but anyone can clearly read the condescension in yours.

You know what I find most amusing about this? Of the entire group of friends I'm actually the one most likely to need to reference Herodotus as a source ocassionally. But because I say he's not always right you assume I don't know how to use him, or that I'm not aware that Herodotean scholarship is a whole thing.

#any further asks that do nothing but hurl insults will be ignored #I'm all for academic disagreement and throwing sources back and forth when we can agree to disagree #but this behavior is not something I have time to deal with #please provide academic papers I can read in your next refutation - its less boring

[gritsandbrits]

Your art is bad because you draw out race in your drawings and yet you claim to be an activist on discrimination upon black people.There is nothing good coming out of black people being an aesthetic to you because you hold a candle off of black being something to put into your ugly work of tracing and blackface editing.There is nothing interesting about drawing black hairstyles onto ugly artstyles from media not made for black audiences or black versions of white characters and even darker skin version of preexisting black characters. the Sonic the Hedgehog art of your ocs are ugly because race is being drawn out for no reason other than to impress black people being that it is drawing attention to what black people are for their hair and clothes and their skin tone, and expect it to look good in that media's art style and caricature not, for it is race faking. It is race faking because you claim these characters as is being black and have non interesting personalities are what make them racism and bland. See about changing your attitude and maybe your work will be better.

It's WILD you call my Sonic OCs bland when they're based on real world fashions (Noelani coconut girl, Aerin Y2k/Aaliyah) to give them character but also easy enough to fit the game canon. You claim they have no interesting personalities when Noelani is a savvy lady who makes up a lack of superpowers with her wit (and athleticism) and learns to speak up for & set boundaries for herself. Meanwhile Aerin is stuck in the past and refuses to let go of her hatred of GUN which conflicts the love she has for her surviving family members. Sure it's not complex but does it need to be? Simple stories are enough. The artstyle isn't ugly either you're just mad that it's iconic.

You claim that I'm an activist simply for black OCs. Yeah not like black OCs don't get much attention as is. Yeah not like I can't find comfort in my f/os finding me attractive for having features society deemed ugly. I must be bitter 🙄

You have the nasty attitude here. Not me. Like srsly Don't be condescending. YOU were the one who came on my blog to insult me because you have a grudge against my moots. Because I said I had enough wit the way media and fandom treats black ppl and decide instead of being bitter - like you - I'm going to do something about it. So take your racist bullshit and go

#gb asks #fandom racism #anon stupidity

[pinkiewitchcraft]

So I encountered a witch blog that talked about how, “if you like sunshine and rainbows in your craft, that’s fine” in a very condescending tone, and proceeded to act as though worshipping sunshine and rainbows is inferior and not “real witchcraft”, and I’d just like to ask why it’s popular and expected for witches to disregard sunshine and rainbows as if those aren’t a part of nature. As if those things aren’t worthy of being worshipped because, in the end, anything deemed too soft and delicate is “weak”, and “silly”, and therefore “unworthy of being acknowledged”. As if you can only worship the moon and the night time as a witch.

A witch is a witch regardless of what they worship. A witch is a witch not because they follow what other people do, not because they have certain items deemed “acceptable”, but because they practice the craft. In their own unique, and personal way.

I appreciate the moon very much, but not because it’s expected of me. I’ve always admired and appreciated the moon. But I am, and always will be, a Sun Child. I worship the sun and it’s warmth, deeply, and if that makes me “not a real witch”, because I’m not worshipping the “right” kind of nature, then I’m going to be the most “not real” witch in the world.

I also worship rainbows, and everything else that would be deemed “unacceptable” for a witch.

I am who I am. And that is powerful. Always. You do not see me coming onto witch blogs about darkness and death and telling them that what they do “isn’t acceptable”, so please, do not fix your lips to tell me that my way isn’t “acceptable”. We are all different. We are not a monolith, don’t expect all witches to be.

A witch is a witch, regardless of what they do. Regardless of how they look, regardless of how they think. Respect that. Always.

#witchcraft #sun child #sunshine #rainbows

[alexstorm]

Well, I mean I’ve been missing out on their tours since the first album. If I had gotten upset about it every time I wouldn’t have gotten anything done. // hence why I said this is the first time I’m actually upset about not seeing them, because I actually had tickets and now sadly can’t due to medical circumstances that are out of my hands. I didn’t mind when it wasn’t even an option for me to see them, but it’s different when I was finally so close but then life said no. Honestly I’m over it now, I had a good cry for a day when I found out and just accepted it in the end because what other choice is there, really. However I can see why people think you come across as rude because so many of your reactions are unnecessarily snippy or condescending, even if unintentionally. You can claim you’re just one of those people who’s super blunt or “say things how they are” or whatever, or people just don’t understand your tone/humour, but surely at some point you must notice that it’s a pattern of you repeatedly offending people here. If multiple people accused me of being rude then I’d start to wonder if I was the problem…

Not really as it seems to be only people on here who like to pile on. Real life is different for me. Like I said before I’ve never been called rude before in my life until I had this blog and spoke about some uncomfortable things (for some people). But again, if that is your perception, why do you expect me to change instead of simply leaving? Entitlement much?

#asks

[marism-tr]

Quick question curious new tr fan here bc you’re one of the very first tr blogs i followed and i think you’re nice enough to answer this. how can you like the haitanis even tho they’re basically worthless and useless characters in tr? No offense I know they’re not special in anything at all lmao even angry folds them ew so can you tell me what’s so good in them aside from fanarts? I was just shook bc many women are simping over them here?? how can people stan them like they even have no redeeming qualities and i felt pity for better written characters🤦🏻

Hi, I'm going to give you the benefit of the doubt that the condescending tone in your ask was unintentional and despite how the phrasing of it can come off as rude, you're genuinely curious on the fandom hype around the Haitani Brothers. Though I do ask if that was the case, to use a tone indicator such as /gen and /lh in future asks to me or others, mainly because the "no offense" alone is not enough to convey the actual tone behind the ask. Here's a link to a list of tone indicators for a list of commonly used ones, but I believe there are more than the ones mentioned: https://toneindicators.carrd.co/#masterlist.

And honestly, there's no simple answer to it, anyone can like them for their own reasons. It can be as simple as "they're hot" or as complex as "i relate to them on a ____ level", or even a mix of these, and it's all valid.

I can only speak for my own reasons on why I like them: and number one. they're hot, point blank lmao. I don't think there's any denying that for me, and your mileage may vary on this opinion. Number two, I'm assuming you mean "useless" characters because they don't play an "essential" role in the plot, but honestly, they're side characters, so I don't really expect them to make game-changing moves plot-wise. (THOUGH THIS IS ALWAYS WELCOME KEN WAKUI). But it's impossible to expect every character that appears in a series to have a huge role plot-wise so as side characters, I think they fulfill that role perfectly. Nice eye-candy but we still get enough glimpses of their personality and backstory through the series that leaves a lot open to interpretation which is the fun part for many people (including me). It's exploring their personality, backstory, and wild interactions with others, whether it be through headcanons, fics, and fanart. That's so exciting??? Brother complex??? Possessive types??? Interactions with other Bonten and Tenjiku members??? What we got were crumbs, but amazing people in the fandom took those crumbs and built a whole 5-star restaurant dedicated to the Haitani's and that's why you're gonna see me in there eating everything up.

Third. I would kill to be in a Haitani Sandwich.

#knock knock☆ #long post

[tinyboxxtink]

"Words Fail" *Chapter 2*

Chapter 1

Chapter 3

I really wasn't expecting to just go through the play, it just happened to resemble the next song OKAY? Although that might be an idea, going by the songs for each chapter in order.

HMMM.

Anyway, this one is quite a bit lengthier that's what she said so I hope you like it.

Also I'd like to point out Olivia is NOT a villain in this story, whatsoever.

I'm growing. 😂

Tag List:

@agentcable

@madamsnape921

@lolliepopsicle

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@milkshqke

@wanniiieeee

@gibbs274

@sassyada

@aprildecker-blog

@bookishfanfic

@stars-in-the-skies-world

@stars-trash-18

@omgsuperstarg

@objection-argumentative

@thatesqcrush

@shittanyy

@mrsrafaelbarba

@word-scribbless

@storiesofsvu

@believinghurts

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

You reached Olivia’s apartment and quietly followed her inside, Rafael right on your heels. You saw a woman in the kitchen working on what looked like homework.

“Hey Lucy, how’d he do tonight?” Olivia asked the young girl.

“Oh he was great Olivia, a little fussy before he went down about an hour ago, but other than that he’s the perfect little two year old,” Lucy smiled as she gathered her things to go. “Who’s this?”

“A friend,” Olivia nodded at you. “And you know Barba,”

“Right,” She nodded at the both of you. “Well you have a good night Ms. Benson, I’ll see you tomorrow,” With that, Lucy walked out the door, leaving the three of you alone again.

“So, wine?” Olivia asked the two of you. It really was a rhetorical question though, as she had already headed to her kitchen to fetch it. You and Rafael shrugged at each other and sat down on the couch, Rafael still had wary eyes on you.

“So, Miss...Vivian,” He began in a condescending tone. “Where did you say you were from again?”

“Oh, didn’t Olivia say?” You tried to remember if either of you had mentioned a birthplace. Should it be New York? Wait, no you said you had moved.

“You said across the state, not very specific,” He said in an accusatory tone.

“Rafa are you on this again?” Olivia scoffed as she joined you on the couch with three wine glasses and a bottle of merlot.

“I’m just trying to get a better sense of Miss Tucker here,”

“Vivian,” You corrected him. “Or Viv,”

“Right…” Rafael raised an eyebrow. “So, ‘Viv’-- are you going to answer the question?”

“Rafael she didn’t come here to answer 50 questions, she came here to tell me about Ed,”

“But--” He started to protest.

“Why don’t you tell me about your favorite memory of him?”

“My favorite memory?” You swished the wine around in your glass as you stared at the floor, trying to make up a story as fast as you could.

“Um, well... there was this one day, back when I was a kid--” You cleared your throat, ready to begin your tall tale. “One summer, on my birthday,”

End of May or early June

This picture-perfect afternoon we share

“My dad promised he’d come home early that day to take me to this carnival outside of the City. It was the very last day, and I had wanted to go all month, but he kept saying we’d wait until my birthday. And so the day came, and I sat on the stoop of our apartment building waiting for him to get home.” You pushed strands of hair behind your hair nervously as you told your story.

“I waited and waited and waited, but he never came. It was starting to get later and later, the carnival was going to close soon. I thought there was no way we’d make it by then, and I just started to cry,” You continued, noticing the faces on both Olivia and Rafael starting to fill with emotion.

“He was always doing stuff like that, making promises he couldn’t keep. I don’t know why I was surprised, but I was devastated. And just as I turned to go inside, I’ll never forget hearing those words:

“Hey kiddo, don’t you know you’re not allowed to be sad on your birthday?” You paused to suck back tears lining your eyes.

“It was my Uncle Tuck, he had shown up even after a super long day at the office. He was carrying balloons and two tickets to the carnival,” You saw Olivia smile briefly, thinking about Tucker carrying balloons and being so soft with you, that’s the Tucker she remembered. The one no one else got to see.

“We went out to the place and of course they were closing, but-- Tucker must have paid off the guy or something, because they stayed open just for us. As a kid, I just thought he was magical like that. He could make anything happen,” You glanced at Rafael who rolled his eyes. Clearly he didn’t have the best relationship with Tucker. Maybe a rivalry?

“We rode everything twice, but my favorite was the Ferris Wheel. When it reached the top, you could see the entire City skyline. It felt like the sky went on for forever,” You closed your eyes and imagined it. Just you and your uncle, sitting at the top of a Ferris wheel eating cotton candy and watching the skyline. Looking up and seeing stars for the first time ever, because they were impossible to see in the City.

All we see is sky for forever. We let the world pass by for forever

Feels like we could go on for forever this way. Two friends on a perfect day.

“...It was the best birthday I ever had,” You finished in the softest voice while looking at the floor once again, unable to speak from the tears choking your throat. When you finally had the courage to look up, Olivia was in tears and Rafael’s face had fallen from suspicious to a soft sad smile. You told yourself that this was fine, because it wasn’t totally a lie.

-----

You did have a thirteenth birthday when your mother had promised to take you to the Carnival outside the city, although it didn’t have such a happy ending, and you weren’t exactly waiting for her to get off ‘work’.

You sat outside your crappy apartment in the Bronx waiting for her to get back from another bender, with another john. You waited and waited until it got dark, and you had to go inside because everyone knew the neighborhood was a whole different kind of scary after the sun went down. When she finally showed up, she had a cupcake and a candle, with a different man than she had left with.

“Hey baby girl,” She had said, still high as a kite. "Happy Birthday,”

“Yeah, thanks,” You had snapped at her, taking the cupcake and shoving it into the wall,”

“You ungrateful little bitch!” This new man had screamed before beating the shit out of you. And your mother had just stood there and watched, peeling the cupcake off the wall and eating it with a smile. Totally oblivious to anyone else but herself.

You liked being able to rewrite that memory, in fact you loved it. You had told it so well even you started to believe it, as the actual events of the day began fading into the corners of your mind.

------

Back in reality, you cleared your throat and tried to pull yourself together from the little show you had put on. You shifted uncomfortably on the couch, waiting for the interrogation from Rafael. But he just kept that sad little smile and put a hand on your knee as if trying to comfort you.

Then Olivia stood up and walked over to where you were sitting so you stood up to meet her. She wrapped her arms around you in a huge hug, pulling you so close into her you almost stopped breathing. No one had ever hugged you this tight, this lovingly. It was weird of course-- but perfect in the most bizarre way.

“Thank you, Vivian,” She whispered into your ear, not letting up on the hug. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,”

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

“I’m sorry, you did WHAT?”

You were back at your dingy little apartment the next morning, back in the Bronx, sitting across from your best friend Cassie as you told her the events of the day before.

“You weren’t there Cass, okay?” You defended yourself. “She just-- she didn’t give me a chance to object!”

“Oh right, no I’m sure they put a gun to your head and made you impersonate some dead guy’s relative,” She rolled her eyes.

“Look she was so--- so devastated,” You thought back to Olivia’s face when you had first met her. Just the mention of Tucker’s name brought some kind of sadness you had never seen on a person before.

“And how much more devastated do you think she’s gonna be when she realizes you’re NOT the niece of her dead lover?” She practically shrieked.

“I don’t--” You tugged at the sleeves of your sweatshirt. “I don’t know,”

“Oh,” She suddenly had a wave of realization wash across her face. “Oh no, she can’t find out,”

“What?” You looked at her quizzically.

“You lied, to a cop Y/N!” Her eyes were wide with panic as she started to pace the apartment.

“What? I mean, yeah but not--”

“You REALLY lied to a cop,” She interjected loudly. “This wasn’t just a little lie to get out of jail time, you spun this entire web for this woman! AND her little lawyer friend!”

“His name is Rafael,” You mumbled softly.

“...What?” She asked you cautiously.

“Her lawyer friend?” You clarified. “His name is Rafael Barba,”

“....Oh no,” Her tone went from panic to manic. “Oh no no no no NO, Y/N,”

“What?”

“I know that look,” She got in your face. “I know that look of yours and that is absolutely no bueno,”

“What look?” You felt your cheeks turning hot. “There was no look--”

“You’re leaving something out about last night, aren’t you?” She suddenly stopped pacing.

“What?” You tried laughing it off like she was insane. “Why would I--”

“You like him, Y/N,” She gave you a look. “It’s written all over your face! What happened between him practically doing a full on background check to verify your story to this stupid enamored look on your face?”

“Nothing!” You lied.

“You realize you’re a shit liar, right?”

“Obviously not if I’ve gotten into this,” You half laughed.

“You stumbled into this, being basically lead around in your lies. And that story about your birthday, that was basically truth!” She pointed out. “You’re going to fuck this up and we’re both going to go to jail,”

“How are we--”

“Because I’m aiding and abetting, hello!” She thunked your head with her finger.

“You’re not--”

“You need to tell me EVERYTHING that you said last night, to both the cop and this-- Rafael,” She said with a very stern face.

----------

Last Night

After Olivia had finally released you from her death hug, you had made up some excuse about being worn out from the memory of your uncle and the whole day. Of course Olivia understood, she was just so happy to have such a wonderful memory of Tucker to get her through the many days of grieving she had left. So you and Rafael found yourselves back on the New York streets, walking in the cool fall air.

“So,” Rafael cleared his throat, trying to break the awkward silence of your walk.

“So,” You gave him a half smile. “Would you like to know the specifics of my story?”

“What?”

“Maybe the name of the carnival? The exact date and time?”

“No!” He shook his head. “No, I-- I know that must have been hard for you, telling that story,”

“...What?” You blinked in disbelief, pausing your walking in shock. “You’re--You’re just going to believe me now?”

“....Should I not?” He quirked an eyebrow at you.

“No, no of course you should,” You felt your cheeks running hot and were glad you were in the dark of the night sky. “I just-- I don’t know I just thought maybe you wouldn’t buy a sentimental story as proof, that’s all,”

“And why’s that?” He asked.

“Well,” You shrugged. “You just don’t seem like the warm and fuzzy sentimental type,”

“And how do I seem?” He asked even more curiously,

“....Grumpy cat, all about logic and facts,” You gave him a tongue-in-cheek smile.

“Grumpy cat?” He laughed for the first time since you had met him. It was the most beautiful thing you had ever heard. His eyes crinkled when he smiled, the green in them shining like emeralds.

“Actually, I’ll have you know I am a very sentimental man,” He looked at you with a small but serious smile. “I’m just protective of the ones I love,”

“Oh,” You nodded. “So you and Liv are--”

“What?” He started to laugh again. “Oh no, no no no. Olivia is like my sister, we’ve never-- no,”

“Oh,” You felt yourself let out a breath you didn’t know you had been holding, and he noted the look of relief on your face.

“I don’t make it a habit to shit where I eat,” He added quickly, as if to remind himself and clarify to you that he didn’t mix business with pleasure. And he wasn’t quite sure which one you were yet.

“Well that’s a very good philosophy,” You agreed, taking the hint. “I’ve found myself eating a shit sandwich a time or two,”

“...Can we maybe move on from the feces talk?” Rafael shuddered at the image you had just painted.

“You started it,” You gave him a playful nudge as you kept walking, soon reaching the subway.

“So where are you staying, while you’re in town?” He asked.

Shit. That’s right, you hadn’t circled back to the living situation.

“I uh,” You bit your lip nervously. “I’m staying with a friend-- in the Bronx,” Well it wasn’t a lie, you just left out you’re staying with her indefinitely. And paying rent. And have all your stuff there.

“The Bronx?” He furrowed his eyebrows. “Are you sure that’s safe?”

“Calm down counselor,” You giggled at the concern on his face. “I’m a big girl, I grew up here remember?” At least that wasn’t a lie.

“Right--” He shook his head. “I guess you are,” He scolded himself for being so overprotective for a girl he just met.

“Well, I guess I’ll...see you when I see you,” You stopped at the corner of a subway station. You really didn’t want to leave him, and that scared the crap out of you.

“Well I’m sure sooner rather than later,” He smiled at you. That smile instantly made you weak in the knees, you were grateful to be holding onto a railing of the stairs.

“Oh?” Your eyes suddenly filled with hope-- he wanted to see you again?

“...Because I’m sure Liv will want you around,” He gave you a look of confusion, trying to ignore the eagerness written all over your face.

“Oh!” You felt your cheeks run hot once again. “Yeah, no of course,”

“Well, good night Vivian,” He gave you a soft half hug; he smelled so good you had to keep yourself from inhaling his musk.

“Good night Mr. Barba,” You quickly pulled away before you did something stupid.

“Rafael,” He corrected you. “Or Rafa,” He added with that beautiful smile.

“....Well good night, Rafa,” You smiled back dreamily, as he continued to walk down the street and you headed down to your train.

-----------

Present Day

“...Shit,” Cassie mumbled after you had finished your story. Your eyes had glazed over into a dreamy smile by the time you were done talking.

“What?” You once again gave her a confused look.

“You can’t fall for him, Y/N,” She warned. “You can’t keep up this fucking lie and fall in love with him, you’re gonna fuck this up and we’re gonna go to PRISON, “

“I’m not 'falling' for him, Cassie,” You rolled your eyes. “I don’t even know him,”

“Good,” Cassie gave you a look. “Then keep it that way,”

“Alright, okay I got it, mom,” You scoffed with another roll of your eyes.

“Hey,” She warned. “Someone had to be,”

“Yeah,” You nodded softly, thinking about your deadbeat mom. “I know,”

“Now get some sleep baby girl, we’re gonna have to figure out a plan tomorrow,” She gave you a pat on the head like a mom. “Promise me you’ll forget about the lawyer, Y/N,”

“...I promise,” You agreed and walked into your bedroom, flopping on the bed and screaming into a pillow.

You really didn’t know if you could keep that promise.

#rafael barba imagine #rafael barba x reader #rafael barba x you #rafael barba #rafael barba fanfiction #dear evan hansen #words fail #raul esparza #`

[optimus-primes-blaster]

"won't write cis female readers" is this a dysphoria thing or are you just misogynistic. do you know cis wlw exist and might consume wlw tf content. do you really think you could write transfem readers if someone asked you if you're this uncomfortable with approaching writing cis women.

First off, don’t talk to me in a condescending tone. I’m obviously aware that cis WLW exist. Secondly, the reason I don’t write for cis women is because of this right here. The attitude of expecting everyone in fandom spaces to write for you, someone who most people do write for, and acting like a child when they don’t. There are plenty of Transformers fanfiction writers who’ll write for you, go read their works instead of lashing out at me.

Also, you’re acting as if my pinned post doesn’t say “...This blog will mainly cater to trans readers. I wanted to make a more gender inclusive blog. Cis people can still read my works, they just won’t be my target audience.“ Which you would have obviously seen if you sent a message to my inbox.

Cis women are one of the most represented group in pretty much all fandom spaces, while trans women are almost forgotten about entirely. So, yes, I will happily write for trans women. And while I may not be a trans woman, I do understand the trans experience and the struggles that come along with it. My blog has been made to write for communities that aren’t represented enough in fandom spaces.

I write fanfiction for free, if you want me to write something I have clearly stated makes me uncomfortable then pay me. Don’t bring transphobia and discourse onto my blog again, I won’t respond to it.

#o-p-b answers #tw transphobes #tw terfs #tw transphobia #tw anon hate #tw discourse

[kirksfattitties]

asks you can smell the privilege and internalized ableism radiate from

(tw for ableism and other bigoted implications)

i’m bad at reading tone but even i understand that this is 100% you being condescending and trying to cover it up with smiley faces and false sincerity. and i don’t appreciate that.

before i get into deconstructing your shitty ableist argument, i want to explain the reasons i believe in self diagnosis (self-dx):

even professional diagnosis doesn’t start with a doctor diagnosing you. there has to be a reason for seeing the doctor. some people see a doctor in their adult life because they’re struggling, some people are taken by their parents, some people are referred or suggested that they see a specialist. whatever it is, you don’t just see a doctor and they magically give you a neurodivergency. people have neurodivergencies before they see doctors and even if they NEVER see a doctor.

the psychiatry system is flawed in MANY ways and to say that it isn’t means you’re denying the experiences of people with less privledge than yourself. also like psychiatry isn’t gonna suck your dick. you don’t have to be a bootlicker lol

in many places (hi hello i’m from america where our government tries to indirectly kill us by not providing us with adequate healthcare! i and many other people have many issues we can’t get fixed because simply our government cares more about the economy than us), seeing a psychiatrist or a therapist or going to a mental hospital or WHATEVER is INCREDIBLY expensive. and to assume that everyone has access and enough time/money/energy/transportation/whatever to do all of that is classist and elitist.

ANYTHING medical (including mental health) is biased towards white cis men. most studies are done on white cis men/boys. because of this, people who aren’t white cis men (or people who aren’t perceived as white cis men) are often not diagnosed. the system is racist. the system is sexist. the system is transphobic. people don’t know how to diagnose autism or adhd or personality disorders or other neurodivergencies or even mental illnesses in black people and other people of color, in women, in trans people, etc. and GOD FORBID someone be in multiple (or all) of those categories. saying “just go get diagnosed :)” is a privileged statement to make.

shocker! the psychiatry system is also ableist. if you’re already diasabled (whether it be mental or physical) and you see a doctor about ANOTHER disability? the doctor is most likely going to shoot you down. or at least be weary about someone having mutliple disabilities.

also most people who diagnose are neurotypical. they have never and will probably never experience neurodivergency so they can never fully understand it. they operate off of stereotypes of neurodivergent people and usually only stereotypical behavior of neurodivergent white cis men (which, as i mentioned before, is problematic for anyone who isn’t a white cis man). neurotypical diagnosers don’t know the neurodivergent culture and aren’t trained to recognize very common things (like masking for example).

a professional diagnosis can also be weaponized. not everyone can get a professional diagnosis because there are some neurodivergencies (such as autism and personality disorders) and mental illnesses (like depression) that can have legal and medical respercussions to have in your record. trans people can be denied medical and legal transition for being professionally diagnosed. people can lose custody battles for being professionally diagnosed. a professional diagnosis can be used as justification for taking away someone’s body autonomy (especially if that person is also physically disabled).

a LOT of neurodivergencies also have some type of symptom (or symptoms) that make it difficult to interact with people. troubles recognizing facial expressions, troubles understanding certain phrases and types of speech, paranoid about people, audio processing issues, being nonverbal in an environment that doesn’t accommodate for it, overstimulation, extreme social anxiety, discomfort in new situations, problems with eye contact, and a lot more. because like. for many nd people, interacting with people is very difficult and stressful. and hey. if you want to get a professional diagnosis? take a WILD guess what you have to do? FUCKING INTERACT with people! LIKE?? JEHDJJDKEKKDKDKDS. do you know how many professionally diagnosed nd people i know who made their appointment COMPLETELY on their own without help from a parent or family member or friend? LITERALLY ZERO! and i know A FEW nd people who have professional diagnoses! so if someone has social issues that prevent them from doing tasks like calling and making an appointment, showing up for an appointment, talking during the appointment, etc and ALSO doesn’t have familial or friend support (because newsflash! people who are friends/family of disabled people can still be ableist)? almost impossible to get a diagnosis! plus, the diagnosis process is TIME CONSUMING. not everyone can focus on a task for that long and not everyone can miss work/school for that long.

so those are the reasons i support self-dx. (although there’s probably more that i’m forgetting but i have adhd and it’s hard for me to remember things!)

so hopefully you now understand my reasons for believing in self-dx, and perhaps even you’re pro-self-dx now because before you were just uneducated on these issues and how they impact people who aren’t you.

but in case you’re still anti-self-dx and probably hate already-marginalized neurodivergent people, let’s talk about this horrendous ask (series of asks, actually) that i got sent. i feel like i can feel the self hatred and internalized ableism OOZING from this ask and into my inbox, so thanks for that i guess /s

“Sometimes people who self diagnose can take away from those who are actually nd, even sometimes from themselves.”

starting out strong with the ableism on this one by separating people into “self diagnosed” and “actually nd” people. self diagnosed people ARE actually nd

there’s not a limited number of nd resources. this isn’t a math equation of only x amount of people can be nd because there’s only y amount of resources. more people realizing they’re nd will actually MAKE more resources for nd people and will bring more awareness to being nd

even IF someone self diagnosed, and they go back on it later, what harm was done? they learned some coping mechanisms? they made some nd friends? neither of those are problematic and i think they’re both actually very helpful. i think nt people SHOULD learn more about nd people and stuff because i think that will lead to WAYYY less misunderstandings and WAYYYY less ableism

“There are many people who fake nds for attention,”

hey anon, what fucking world do you live in that nd’s are cool enough to fake having? because i would LOVE to live there. like, i literally had a post about my personality disorder (which i will not be specifying) i had to delete because people were sending my anons about how i was “scary” and “threatening” now that they knew i had the personality disorder i have. last year i left a discord server because the ableism i was recieving from not only the members of the server, but the mods as well. there are very few people i know irl who i tell about my personality disorder, but when i tell people about my adhd, they start treating me different. they infantalize me and make fun of me and use “jokes” about stereotypical adhd behaviors to alienate me and they even TELL OTHER PEOPLE without my permission. i was SEVERELY bullied throughout elementary and middle school for being nd. i have been refused job and educational opportunities as well as literal medical attention for being nd. people aren’t “faking” being nd, and if they were they probably wouldn’t be doing it for long because it’s not something that’s EASY to deal with.

kinda ironic that you’re saying people can’t diagnose themselves but that YOU can tell when someone is faking their diagnosis. that’s both hypocritical and a double standard.

masking exists. if you think someone isn’t “acting nd enough” they’re probably masking because they’ve been fucking bullied and harrassed. also you’re probably basing whatever you think nd is on stereotypes. not every nd person is sheldon cooper lol.

this is a side note but can we talk about how you’re literally just taking transmed rhetoric and molding it to fit nd people? like. you really come onto MY NONBINARY NEURODIVERGENT blog and expect me to validate your recycled “but what about the REAL [insert group] people?” ??? like grow up, elitist. you’re not better than anyone else just because you lick some boots 🥾 👅

“and claiming that self diagnosis (and this is just what I interpreted) is just as valid as professional diagnosis”

it is 😌

the only difference between self diagnosis and professional diagnosis is that a professional diagnosis can also get you medicine. not every neurodivergency needs meds and not every neurodivergency can be treated (at this time or even ever). for example, my pd (self diagnosed) doesn’t have a specific treatment but multiple symptoms of the pd (all professionally diagnosed) have specific treatments and medicines that work, so patients are given/diagnosed with/prescribed those instead. also, medicine doesn’t work for everyone! and sometimes people are allergic to or take medicines that will conflict with any new medicine.

“can really devalue the account of someone who actually has a disorder”

here we go again with that “self diagnosed” vs “actually nd” bullshit. literally just say you hate poor people n minorities and leave lol

someone having a different experience than you isn’t devaluing you, but if you’re the one who always has the spotlight maybe you should use your privledge uplift other marginalized people instead of feeling angry when everything isn’t all about you 100% of the time

“I have a second ask”

i don’t want it

“Plus it can be damaging for a person if they self diagnose wrong.”

how? what if they learn information that they wouldn’t’ve otherwise known like coping mechanisms that help them with their own neurodivergencies? that’s definitely not a bad thing

i think it’s funny that you bring up that people can self diagnose wrong and don’t even MENTION that doctors can diagnose wrong. like. you know. the people who GIVE OUT MEDICINE to people. i think it’s MUCH more dangerous when a PROFESSIONAL diagnosis is wrong. what are self-dx people with wrong diagnoses gonna do? read up on nd tips? maybe smoke some weed? drink some coffee? that’s about all they can do with a self-dx. but if a MEDICAL PROFESSIONAL gives you an INCORRECT diagnosis, they can ACTUALLY fuck you up.

“I was recently diagnosed with PTSD, a disorder which I would have never considered I’d have.”

that’s great about your professional diagnosis! i don’t know you but i’m glad you’re finding out about yourself and getting the help you want and/or need /srs

sorry if this sounds blunt, but honestly i’m not surprised you never considered you could have PTSD. based on your asks, you sound like you have a lot of internalized ableism you need to work through and a lot more research about neurodiversity you need to do. being anti-self diagnosis is a common belief among a lot of people with internalized ableism and a lot of these same people are the ones who have no issue with and even SUPPORT auti$m $peaks. many nd organizations that are run BY nd people (like asan) actually support self-dx.

“If I had of diagnosed my own symptoms and then started treating myself or taking precautions based on my self diagnosed "condition", it could of really hurt me.”

how? taking precautions to preserve your mental health is NEVER a bad idea. i’m not ptsd, but someone i care deeply about DOES have ptsd and has shared a lot of the precautions and coping mechanisms for ptsd with me and honestly they’ve been incredibly helpful. it’s almost as if different neurodivergencies and/or mental illnesses have overlap and that’s why there’s a whole community for us to be able to share these resources and information with each other!

the same person was rejected a formal autism diagnosis because of their ptsd, plus the fact that they’re transgender and the fact they have symptoms of adhd. it’s not really my place to talk about their experience with professional diagnosis, but i’ll send this post to them and allow them to add on their experience in a rb if they’re comfortable with that. but it’s almost as if their experience with the professional diagnosis process was unhelpful, harmful, ableist, and transphobic 🧐 and unfortunately this is a pretty common experience

“Also, by self diagnosing, I devalue the account of a person with the disorder l assumed I had.”

how? if someone thinks they’re nd, they have a legitimate reason for thinking so. either they have another neurodivergency than the one they thought they had, or they’re neurotypical and need to figure themself out and have a need for support. either way, they learned more about the specific neurodivergency, more about the nd community, and more about themself. i don’t see how that’s a bad thing.

if you think self-diagnosed people’s experiences inherently have less value, that is straight up ableism. especially considering that other marginalized identities and minorities have trouble getting professional diagnoses, you might also be bigoted in some other way. or at the very least, refusing to acknowledge your privilege.

“only one more I promise”

i don’t want it

“I understand that doctors are expensive and professionals can get it wrong,”

okay. if you understand this, then dm me your information so i can bill you for the cost of my professional diagnoses, the cost for my therapy sessions, the cost for my medicine, and the cost for transportation to and from all these places. PLUS the cost of the work and school i’ll be missing for these sessions. 🤲

“but self diagnosis can be really harmful to yourself or others.”

nah, you’re just ableist and a gatekeeper lol

“If you feel like you have a disorder, go see a psychiatrist, you may have it.”

[remembers when i went to a psychiatrist who diagnosed me with two major symptoms of a personality disorder and said i had other symptoms of the pd as well but refused to diagnose me with the actual personality disorder because i was a minor at the time and he told me “kids don’t have personalities so they can’t have personality disorders”. i understand being weary about diagnosing children with personality disorders because they aren’t fully developed but this dude straight up told me that i didn’t have a personality. this man literally only worked with children so that means he literally never diagnosed personality disorders. this man was literally just lazy and didn’t care about his patients. this man also refused to believe me when i told him the medicine he prescribed me made my symptoms worse and even made me hallucinate. he ignored me and refused to change my medicine so eventually i just changed psychiatrists and they put me on a new medicine that DIDNT make my symptoms worse and DIDNT make me hallucinate. also i looked it up after our session and apparently ONLY people with my pd and related ones experience hallucinations on that certain medication. it’s almost like his refusal to diagnose me and ignoring my symptoms/concerns harmed me. this man also constantly misgendered me and told me that homosexuality and transgenderism should’ve still been in the dsm. like golly, it’s almost as if being queer and neurodivergent in an extremely conservative state is harmful and dangerous. and that psychiatrists aren’t immune from being homophobic and transphobic and ableist.] but yes :) perhaps i should see another psychiatrist in this conservative state :)

“I don't want to undermine anyone's actual experiences, but it can be dangerous.”

then stop undermining people’s actual experiences :)

no ❤️

“If you feel like something's wrong, go see a professional.”

the whole point of the neurodiversity movement is that there IS no such thing as a “normal” brain, so saying that neurodivergent people have something “wrong” with them is ableist.

💰 🤲 hand it over

“I don't want to offend, I just don't want anyone to get mislead or hurt. :)”

you absolutely meant to offend. you literally said that self-diagnosed people’s experiences aren’t valid and have less value than people who have professional diagnoses

i know more people who have been (and personally have been) mislead and hurt by professionals than by simply existing as a self-diagnosed person

also i want to say that being pro-self dx is NOT being anti-professional/formal diagnosis. i think that people should absolutely get a professional diagnosis (if they are able to without negative repercussions)! being pro-self dx is more inclusive of marginalized people (like people of color, women, lgbtq+ people, people with multiple disabilities, etc). pro-self dx is simply just saying that professional diagnosis isn’t the only option

(neurotypical people and anti-self dx people don’t add anything; pro-self dx neurodivergent people are allowed to add with their experiences if they want)

#asks #long post #nd adventures #ableism tw #sexism tw #racism tw #transphobia tw #misgendering mention #medical abuse mention #not star trek #homophobia tw

[ladyblogger-margie]

Up In Flames

Pairing: Frankie Morales x GN!Reader

Summary: You arrive home late from work to discover the home you share with Frankie Morales is up in flames and he’s been injured. 

Warnings: Angst, fire related injuries and trauma, major character death, no happy ending. 

Word Count: 1616

Prompt: Engagement Disaster

a/: This version of Frankie never had a wife or a kid, I just ignored that part of canon. This is very angsty, and does not have a happy ending. 

MY MASTERLIST

You pulled your car over to the side of the road down the street from your house. The whole street was locked down, the way through blocked by fire trucks and ambulances. You saw your neighbors watching the house down the street be engulfed by flames, the smoke high in the sky. 

It took you a beat to realize that it was your house that was on fire. The shock rooted you in place as your heart raced. Frankie was expecting you for dinner, but you had gotten held up at work, and then hit bad traffic. You were so late coming home, and now you’ve come home to see this. 

You saw through the crowd that the paramedics were standing over a gurney and your heart dropped into the pit of your stomach. You rushed through the crowd, pushing your neighbors aside in your panic. 

You were stopped by a firefighter who grabbed you gently, but stopped you in your tracks. 

“This area is closed,” the firefighter’s voice came through their air mask distorted. 

“That’s my house,” you explained, your voice was shaking. 

The firefighter removed their mask and called for another firefighter, their superior you assumed. Meanwhile you were trying to see through the crowd, desperate to see Frankie, to confirm he was okay. 

He had to be okay, he just had to be. 

The other firefighter asked your name, and after you told them it, he used it repeatedly. You assumed the repetition was supposed to help ground you, but it wasn’t working. 

“My boyfriend was home, where is he?” you asked frantically. 

“He’s with the paramedics. He suffered burns and serious smoke inhalation. We are taking home to the hospital now,” the firefighter explained in a calm voice. His composure was pissing you off. You felt condescended too. 

“I’m getting in that ambulance,” you demanded. 

The firefighter shook their head just as you saw an ambulance drive away. 

“You’ll have to meet him there, I’ll get an officer to drive you,” then he hailed a police officer who took your arm and told you to remain calm. 

You shook the hold, “I don’t need you to tell me to stay calm. Take me to the hospital, now.”

Your firm tone did the trick and people stopped trying to touch and control you. You followed the officer to their cruiser and insisted they turn on the sirens and race the ambulance. 

When you and Frankie bought the house you were warned the wiring was old. Frankie promised he would fix it, and you didn’t push. You regretted that now. If he died, it would be your fault. 

That realization caused the tears to flow freely through your body in the back of the cop car. Thankfully the officer ignored you. You just needed the opportunity to get it out of your system before Frankie saw you. 

If Frankie saw you crying he’d blame himself. He hated to see you cry so you rarely let him. Though when you did, he took care of you so completely, it fixed whatever it was you were dealing with. 

But he needed to turn that care and compassion inward right now. He needed to bring himself back to his normal, smiling self. He needed to heal his own wounds the way he usually healed yours. 

When you arrived at the hospital the officer gave you a bottle of water and a Kleenex before he left you with the hospital staff at the entrance. Before you walked in you splashed some water on your face and rubbed it raw with the hem of your shirt. Then you blew your nose and tossed it aside. 

The officer had told the nurses who you were there to see, but they didn’t bring you to him. You could hear him though, you were just on the other side of the ER, separated by a simple door. When it opened, you heard him scream. 

You recognized that scream. He had the occasional night terror about his time in the service. Sometimes they were so bad he’d wake you both up with a scream. 

From the ER you heard that same scream, only much, much worse. 

You ran for the door, but orderlies stopped you. 

“He needs me,” you were crying, your previous resolution forgotten in place of your overwhelming dread and panic.

The orderlies half carried, half dragged you to a chair in the corner where a nurse kneeled in front of you. 

“There’s nothing you can do for him in there,” the nurse promised you. 

“I have to be there for him. I wasn’t home for him, I need to make it right,” you said, your voice high. You kept talking, making excuses, giving explanations, begging. But you didn’t even register the words. Your eyes were locked on the doors to the ER.

The nurse held your hand and made you look at her. 

“He’s suffered catastrophic injuries,” their words stopped your heart, but she wasn’t finished, “They are trying to save his life, but they can’t do that with you in the way. If he is going to stand any chance of pulling through, you have to stay here.”

The words frightened you to rigid stillness. The only things still moving were the tears running down your face. 

You waited there, frozen, until you saw the morning light creep in through the entrance doors. Along with the light came the firefighter from earlier. He was covered in soot and sweat, and he couldn’t look in your eyes when he approached you. 

“We believe the fire was caused when Mr. Morales plugged in several appliances to the same outlet using an old power bar. The faulty wiring in the house combined with the failing bar caused the fire” he said quickly. 

You nodded, but didn’t interrupt. You were sure there was more. 

“Based on Mr Morales injuries at the scene, it’s likely he caught fire before the house, and his attempts to put himself out helped to spread the flames which resulted in total loss of the home,” his voice was calm, confident, but his face was broken just like you knew yours was too. 

“Thank you,” was all you said, dismissing the man, giving him permission to go home and clean up, his role in this tragedy over. 

You didn’t move, didn’t eat, didn’t drink all day. The nurses seemed to be avoiding you as you watched them, desperate for some news. 

Finally, around dinner time you walked to the desk, fresh tears in your eyes. 

“Please,” you begged,”Isn’t there anything you can tell me?”

The nurse looked at you compassionately, “The doctor will be out shortly, she’ll give you an update just as soon as she can.”

You nodded, still crying. 

“You should eat something, there’s a cafeteria -” she started, but you interpreted her. 

“I’ll eat with Frankie when he’s ready,” you said, and your tone ends the conversation. 

Just then a doctor comes through the ER doors and sees you. She looks exhausted and she is not smiling. 

She asks you to sit but you shake your head. 

“When can I see Frankie?” you asked her. 

“I am so sorry,” she said, and your vision blurred. You felt sick to your stomach and the room was spinning. You couldn’t hear exactly what she was saying. 

Your legs wobbled and she led you to a chair. 

“But can I see him?” you asked. 

She touched your hand lightly, “He’s gone. We did everything we could, but he didn’t make it.”

You were surprised to discover you had stopped crying. You’re agony too overwhelming for even your tears to cut through. 

“We can bring you back to say goodbye,” she told you, “We’ll also return to you his personal items.”

You didn’t even nod, you just followed her through to the room where Frankie lay. 

There was a chair in the corner of the room that the doctor pulled up to the side of the bed for you. 

“Take as long as you need,” she said as a nurse entered and handed her a bag of Frankie’s things. You recognized his wallet, and hat among a small box you’d never seen before. 

They left you alone as you collapsed on the chair, your head against Frankie’s soot covered, cold hand. It sent a chill through you, but you didn’t move. This was going to be the last moment you’d ever touch the man you loved, and you were going to take your time. 

You pulled open the plastic bag and removed the small box with trembling fingers. You had a suspicion of what you’d find inside, but you had to know for sure. 

You opened the box and found an engagement ring, the exact one you’d always dreamed of having. Frankie had clearly known you as well as you thought he did. You looked over Frankie’s still, lifeless face as you slipped the ring on your finger. 

“Yes,” you whispered. 

Then you kissed his cheek, grabbed the rest of his things and called for the nurse. 

Will and Pope helped you with all the funeral arrangements while you crashed on Will’s couch, nowhere else to go, with very little to your name. At the service, Benny held your hand and squeezed it whenever he felt your body start to shake. 

His headstone read, “Frankie “Catfish” Morales. Loving partner, and dearest friend.” You chose “partner'' because boyfriend didn’t seem serious enough, fiance too short term, and you couldn’t bring yourself to lie and say husband. You wore the engagement ring he bought for you proudly on your finger for the rest of your life, forever loving the man you lost. 

Birthday Challenge Masterlist

Tags: @autumnleaves1991-blog​

#triple frontier #frankie morales #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales x GN!Reader #frankie morales x reader #pedro pascal #angst #birthday challenge

[sepublic]

...Look. If you’re legit coming to me and others looking for genuine help, then please be upfront and straightforward about it, in a way that we can work with, I’m willing to look past things and forgive, even admit fault! I wanna help, I really do, it’s just...

TW: Accusations

Don’t go into my inbox and make heavy accusations towards another blog without any context nor proof besides your own personal words, which alone I can’t take seriously; Especially if, again, you refuse to provide any sources or links to back yourself up. And don’t go making these claims with this needlessly passive-aggressive tone at me, as if it’s my personal fault for not knowing about whatever accusations you’re making, which; I’m someone with a lot of stuff in my life. My schedule has a bit going on and my interactions on the internet and varied. There’s a lot I’m not intimately aware of, such as in fandom interaction, so if there’s something I don’t seem to be aware of; Just inform me politely, there’s no need to pursue this resentful tone about it!

Don’t go dropping into my inbox, on anon no less, and make these claims; I assume you want to inform me, but given the nature of what you’re saying, I need actual, genuine proof to make my own conclusions. I’m not your personal arbiter or attack dog, where you just point me in the direction of someone and tell me to bark; I’m an actual person, and I can’t just automatically take some things at face value without being given a reason to believe them, especially if this is done with the intent of canceling someone. It’s not a good look to provide no context, links, or screenshots to back yourself up- And if you want to politely inform me, go ahead! But there’s no reason to take a condescending, guilt-tripping tone with me for not already knowing and intimately keeping track of what goes on with each person in a fandom. Why are you holding this against me?

Frankly I think it’s insulting to make these incredibly serious claims against another person towards me, as if you’re expecting me to rally everyone for you. Which, if you’re legitimately afraid of backlash, then I’m fine with anon- But again, the tone that’s being applied here, the intense nature of these accusations, and the lack of context and evidence, it all just makes the anon guise look very suspicious to me, VS if you were actually polite and forthcoming about the whole thing, instead of vaguely accusatory towards me as well by proxy, for not already knowing something that might not even be true, and/or is exaggerated/taken out of context.

You’re asking a lot of me to immediately cancel someone, to believe such drastic claims on your word alone, and I don’t appreciate that; Again, it seems like you can’t trust me to make my own conclusions and to evaluate the original context for myself, and at that point it feels like I’m being spoon fed this specific narrative and asked to accept it blindly, without question. That is an overtly personal and intimate kind of demand with the aim of devaluing someone else, potentially publicly given the nature of this ask; And I don’t think I can respond in good faith if it feels like you’re not approaching me on that same principle.

If you’re going to build a claim and a case to me, don’t expect me to go out and do all of the detective research on my own for you, because apparently you’re unwilling to provide anything for me. And if you can’t do that, then it just makes the whole thing look sus and this alone is your grounds for condemning a whole-ass person. What the hell do you want from me; Be straightforward here, and don’t be such a condescending asshole about it. If what you’re saying is true, then I’d probably give you the benefit of the doubt... But until then, I need something.

And if you didn’t mean to come across this way, then that’s okay; Just tell me! If you genuinely didn’t know any better, then that’s fine! If I actually misunderstood your tone and you meant things unironically, please inform! But I can’t condone this kind of handling of a situation that I don’t even know actually happened or not. If you want to redo this, by all means go ahead... But for now, I have nothing substantial to go off of, no leads or clues or anything, and I don’t intend to go up to some random blog and say “So this person told me you did these VERY messed-up things and I need you to confess if you did or not.” I’m not the goddamn inquisition nor FBI, and I’m not a psychic who can automatically figure everything out at once by reading your mind, and have all I need to know just from this prompt of an accusation; You need to communicate with me, here.

This doesn’t feel like a confession where you’re coming forth about something that hurt you and/or someone you knew, this feels like an accusation that’s pointing fingers and expecting others to blindly follow. Even if you do end up right, I don’t think I can be blamed for being skeptical with how all of this is being conducted. And of course, in the event that you’re telling the truth, then of course I’m going to want to take this as seriously as possible, which is WHY I invite actual context and evidence, even if I’m not looking to cancel someone; I just want to get down the exact truth of the situation and what happened, I can’t make a case to others nor myself on just claims without evidence. If you’re right, then I’ll owe a deep apology and unconditional support.

Just... don’t expect me to cancel someone for you. At least, not without actual evidence, because with the accusations involved, this kind of thing needs to be taken as seriously and carefully as possible. Ya gotta work with me, not lash out at me, a stranger who knows nothing. I’m sorry if I’m being too harsh, I just feel like I need to set boundaries, and if anyone disagrees, please provide feedback; I’m open to criticism!

#Anyone else who got that ask is invited to provide input and tell me if I’m being too harsh #I WANT to take this seriously but you need to communicate with me if that’s the case #I can’t figure everything out on my own you gotta work with me and also don’t be so passive aggressive at me for something I just found out #because the fact that you’re informing me implies you think this is my first time hearing this information #ramblings #vent #vent tw #Hey so don’t reblog this btw #discourse #discourse tw

[heavymetalover]

Heresy (Michael Langdon x fem reader)

Summary: You’re a witch visiting the Hawthorne School for Exceptional Young Men, aiding to your fallen Supreme, Cordelia, when suddenly engaging in a spontaneous rendezvous with the Boy Wonder himself, Michael Langdon.

Warnings: smut, dirty talk, light choking, fingering, oral sex, vaginal sex, dom/sub, hickies, rough sex, daddy kink.

Word count: 4.1k

A/N: back with another one shot after a depressive episode hahaaaaa fuck

feel free to ask me stuff, i may get to a request if i have time. also i needa follow more ahs/cody blogs since im slowly morphing back into an ahs blog so ill try to follow everyone back! anyways 

enjoy:)

~~~~

 Ever since your arrival at Hawthorne, you’ve been enamored with the talk of the town. Mr. Bigshot Michael Langdon. You came with Cordelia, the plane ride made you nauseated. Not from the immoderate turbulence, but from the thought of your Supreme falling. You all had doubts, thought that Michael was just another powerful warlock, nothing too menacing; but when Michael brought back your sisters from the dead, something Cordelia couldn’t even do, you knew he was a threat.

Michael is one of the few people on this Earth you’ve met with unbreakable confidence. He holds his head high, a cunning smirk enduringly secured on his full pink lips. Yet something about him is also so child-like. His power excites him and he’s always quick to engage in conversation about himself; almost giddy with his effervescent wit, yet beautifully controlled.

You don’t know what made you want to engage with this man, the most you’ve ever done with him is shake his hand. There was a moment he brushed against you, you felt a hard bulge in his pants lightly brush against your ass, his big hand squeezing your shoulder as he wedged himself past you, lingering slightly and feeling as if he purposely was pushing his pelvis against you. You dismissed your suspicions of this minor interaction, explaining it away as a whimsical delusion plagued by your hormonal, juvenile brain. Although, you wanted more than anything to believe he was coming onto you, you were here to support the witches. Your sisters. Not the desperate, power-driven warlocks.

It’s late in the evening, Cordelia passed out on the couch in the common area while the other witches attempt to nurse her to health, a few of them nearly falling asleep next to her. For some odd reason, your eyes are resisting sleep tonight. You’re carelessly flipping through a book, eyes grazing over the tiny words. Your mind is preoccupied with something else, someone else. Constantly glancing around the room just in hopes you’d catch a glimpse of his golden curls reflecting the candlelight, or even his black cloak dramatically flowing behind him, something, anything to feed your hunger.

You presume a few hours have passed now; the whole school has gone silent except for a thumping bass in the distance. Once you fixate on the noise, your eyebrows knit in confusion. You thought you were the last person awake. You shut the book you’ve been neglecting and set it back on the shelf, prudently pursing the bass-y melody. Your heels echoing in the empty halls, stopping dead in your tracks when you come to the hall where the music originates. You walk through the arch into the rich, golden hallways lit up by flickering candles. Hard rock music blaring from a closed door, but it becomes obvious who’s room it is as you get closer. You can recognize his scent from a mile away. The music comes from Michael’s room.

You ball your fist, ready to pound his door and tell him to turn down his music, but pause before you can make contact with the door. You hear low groans over the music, momentarily mistaking them to be apart of the song, but soon realizing it’s Michael’s voice when he grunts out a loud “fuck!”

Your jaw drops, just hearing his moans on the other end of the door makes your heart sink. With little hesitation, you press your ear against the door, your earring hitting the polished wood and making a louder clink than you expected. Michael doesn’t seem to notice, continuing his low moans from inside the room.

You initially came with the intention of telling him off, giving him a much-needed reality check that the world doesn’t revolve around him. But you’re compelled to put all of that on hold and keep listening, laying your palm against his wooden door and resting on it, catching yourself pretending it’s Michael’s sturdy, defined body. You know you shouldn’t be so thirsty for him; he exudes arrogance out of his pores, exhausting and intoxicating you all at once. You’d never admit it, but buried deep down, you know you like that about him. You like his hubris, it makes you fantasize about how possessive he’d be when fucking you, how he’d humiliate you.

You run your hand down the door panel and press your cheek harder against the wood. Your other hand reaching underneath your short, lacey black dress. The scent of his cologne is strong enough to have tainted the door. You bask in the gritty, manly pheromones, starting to rub your aching clit in small circles. Your lips grazing the door as you quicken your pace, listening to his loud music and touching yourself to the rhythm. You can see why he listens to it; it’s even helping you get more into the mood.

You’re practically kissing the door when you almost fall flat onto the floor by somebody swinging it open. You regain your balance and collect yourself, feeling your face burning red with embarrassment. Michael’s icy blue eyes scope the situation for a moment, landing on you, then the door, then your hand on your crotch. You pull it away after Michael’s already found it. Shit. He clears his throat. “Y/n,” he talks to you slow, as if you were a toddler, “what the fuck?”

Your mind sets aside his condescending tone for a moment to revel in the fact that he knows your name; though you mentally beat yourself up right after for being so desperate and putting your dignity on the backburner. It takes you a split second to spew out your reply, “I-I could ask you the same.” You bite your tongue in hopes he didn’t linger too much on your stumble. “I could hear your music all the way from the common room, people are trying to sleep.”

“And why aren’t you?” he leans both his arms against the doorframe, looking so lackadaisical and impossibly sexy. You hate him for it.

“I was watching over Cordelia,” you lie, although you wish it was true. You know the only reason is because of him, because your thoughts always come back to his beautiful, smug face.

“I don’t believe you,” he says with a slight shake to his head, his lively curls bobbing with each movement.

You know you should just leave the situation now and give him one last nudge to turn down his music, but something inside you urges you to entertain his question. “Why don’t you believe me?” you ask, bouncing back and forth on the tiny heels of your stilettos. “What else would I be doing?” you wish you could swallow the words back up as soon as they leave your mouth.

He squints his eyes at you as if you had just asked the dumbest question on the planet. “Listening to me,” he shoots back, “and…” His eyes trail down to your crotch and he raises a brow. He doesn’t audibly declare your actions, as if saying the words aloud will frame the situation to be even more perverted than it already is.

“And touching myself,” you finish his sentence, taking a step closer to him.

There’s a certain energy to him, a sinister overtone even when a stupid grin spreads across his face. “You’re a nasty little witch, aren’t you?” he asks, keeping his voice low.

The tension becomes thicker with each pause, you feel your breathing getting uneven, mouth watering, a numbness to your fingertips. Michael looks completely unphased, still holding himself with the utmost confidence. “Maybe that’s for you to decide,” you reply gingerly, “sir.”

He inches himself closer to you until his nose barely brushes the tip of yours. “I think you are,” he whispers. You gulp down all the excess water in your mouth, just looking at him makes you hungry for more. He aggressively takes a chunk of your hair and pulls your head back, the candles in the hallway burn out. Did you do that?

He gives a measly scoff at your powers before turning back to you. Michael leans closer, his lips shave yours ever so slightly. Hooded eyes surveying every inch of your face, pulling tighter and smiling at your wince in pain. “You want me?” he asks, lips lugging against yours, but rejecting the satisfaction of a kiss.

“Yes,” you let out a breathy whisper. “I do, sir.” An attempt to kiss him results in your hair being mercilessly tugged again. It hurt to the point you felt a burning behind your eyes, tears threatening to appear, but you wouldn’t dare tell him to stop. At this point, you’d do anything Michael wanted you to do, be anything he wanted you to be.

He drags the back of his moist tongue down your neck and stops at the base, laying his lips down and lightly sinking his teeth into you, sucking up the salty sweat on your skin. You unexpectedly moan at his ardor, eyes darting around the hall for witnesses. He sucks vigorously, eliciting a surprised gasp from you each time he sucks harder. Deciding he’s done when your neck feels on fire, his mouth parts from your flesh with a delicious smack.

He releases his tight grasp from your hair, now clutching the back of your neck with a death grip, squeezing like he owns your body. A light groan dies on his lips as he comes back to your face, lips touching again. “I smelt you as soon as you came to my door, I know the smell of a witch well.” Neither of you make an effort to pull away, he uses one of his slender arms to caress the side of your body, moving along your curves. “I know the smell of a drenched cunt, too.” His hand finds your pussy and to his avail, he’s correct.

Sliding your panties to the slide, he thumbs your core. You grab his toned arm for balance as he touches your sensitive clit, rubbing it slowly with ease. “You eavesdropped on me fucking myself, huh?” his tone turns rough. “Invading my privacy…” he continues through gritted teeth as if he was holding back on cussing you out completely. He rubs you harder and faster, your face contorting as you grab onto him tighter. You bite your tongue to hold back screams, almost forgetting that you were standing outside of his room, but the thrill of getting caught turns you on even more. You can feel the wetness dripping down your thighs. “You like invading my privacy,” he starts again, rubbing harder than ever. You feel yourself getting pushed to the edge, biting your tongue so hard you draw blood. “Say it,” he demands.

“I like invading your… f-fuck! Y-your privacy,” it takes all your power to form a coherent sentence. Your pussy convulses under his fingers and he takes them away, leaving an agonizing throbbing in your clit.

He pulls you by your wrist into his room, shutting the door behind him. His lips automatically connect to yours, aggressively tongue-fucking your face, barely stopping to take a breath. “Is this what you wanted?” he asks breathlessly. “You want to be used like a whore?”

You smile at his crudeness; his dirty talk sends chills throughout your core. “Yes, daddy,” you respond softly, returning to his kisses. He grins against your kiss at this little nickname. A childish whimper escaping your lips when his pants rub against your unfinished cunt.

He pulls away to tug his black shirt over his head, you take the moment apart to slip off your tight dress. “I was hoping you’d stop by after I pushed myself into you,” he grins. A wave of relief passes through you when you realize that moment you shared with him wasn’t a product fabricated by being overly imaginative. “I knew your body would be mine the moment I saw you in that tight little dress.”

“I wore it just for you,” you speak your words with a sugary sweetness to match your frenzied desperation for him to fill you up. “My body is all yours.”

“I know,” he sneers. He pushes you onto the bed, towering over you as he claws off your panties. His skin slightly glistened in sweat, intimately lit by the dim lighting in his room. You’ve never seen someone look so goddamn sexy. He runs a hand through his perfect golden waved hair before settling himself between your legs. The first contact he makes is licking up your hot cunt before reintroducing his fingers. It won’t take much more to make you come since he started you off in the hall.

Now that you’re in the comfort of his room, you let all your moans escape as loud as you want. “Fuck, Michael!” you yell, hoping the music is loud enough to mask your screams. His tongue pulses against your dripping pussy as his slim fingers work your clit again. You shut your eyes as tight as you can and pull at the sheets of his bed, feeling the vibration of his moans against your cunt and the cadence of the song, everything turns you on.

Just not enough.

I need more.

Nothing seems to satisfy.

I said, I don’t want it.

I just need it.

To breathe, to feel, to know I’m alive.

Michael’s finger slides inside your pussy, pulsing to his own rhythm, speeding up before you can adjust to his intensity. He adds another finger flicking up inside your pussy, tickling your g-spot with each tap. “Fu-” you can’t even release your cursing. “Right there, right there,” you breathe, not sure your words are even audible. Michael begins pacing his tongue over your ripened clit, continuing to fuck you with his long fingers and rub your slit with his thumb, making sure every nerve is stimulated.

You yank his sheets, trying to sit up and watch him devour you, but dropping back onto the bed in defeat. “S-so good,” you cry. He speeds up even more and you yelp. He snickers at your titillation, sending a flood of heat against your cunt. “I’m,” is the only word you can get out before fauceting a stream of clear liquid from your hole.

Michael leans back, letting your pussy release all of the built-up tension. His face scrunches up inquisitively as you come all over his bed. Once you’re done leaking and completely out of breath, Michael glances at you in disbelief. “Wow,” is the only word that can cross his lips before licking up the excess filth that splashed onto your thighs. He climbs on top of you to plant a kiss on your begging lips, you taste your salty juices in his mouth. He parts from the kiss and you lick yourself off of your lips. “That’s my dirty girl,” he praises.

He takes both of your arms and pulls you to sit up on his bed. You’re so lost in ecstasy that you can’t even process Michael slipping his pants down in front of you and the enormous protrusion occupying his boxers. You get thrown back into the fire when his lengthy erection springs out and slaps your cheek. Your brain reacts as if programmed to be his little sex toy. You grab his cock in your hands and shove it down your throat. “Show me how grateful you are that I let you come,” he rocks his hips into your face. You grab his hips to push his dick even further into your mouth, working past your gags and pushing as deep as you can. Every time he thrusts you feel yourself choke on his length, “You like the way I fuck your face, huh? You like how I treat you like a dirty hole?”

You pull him out of your mouth, inhaling the smell of his cologne and spitting on the pink tip of his hard cock. You haven’t seen a dick this big outside of porn, maybe not even in porn. You stroke his length, giving yourself time to recover before shoving him back down your throat. You lick up his balls and he groans, beginning to reposition your head for sucking.

You open your mouth and he shoves himself back in, plunging to the back of your throat. You feel your mouth coat his dick with saliva, choking back on his precum and slurping back all of the juices. You run your hand up and down his shaft, feeling like you’re only able to guzzle down half of his dick. You pull it out of your mouth to spit on his glazed cock, continuing to jerk his shaft. You go back to sucking, bobbing your head up and down as fast as you can and releasing his cock to spit on it. He throws his head back as you continue mouth fucking him. “Goddamn!” he shouts, rocking himself into you even harder. You gag on his cock, tears streaming down your cheeks, he loves this. “Let me see your eyes,” he requests. You look up at him, blinking out your tears. “Fuck me,” he sighs before pulling himself out of your mouth, a white substance oozing from his hole.

You fight to catch your breath as he’s already repositioning you. Pushing you onto all fours and spitting on your cunt before entering. “I can’t wait to stretch out those tight little walls,” he says, teasing his cock up and down your folds. “Say it’s okay,” he begs, his cock pressed against your hole. Your heart skips when he says this. You nod your head, too in shock to conjure an answer. “I want to hear you say it,” he presses.

You gulp down your nervousness, trying not to appear stunned by his need for approval. “I want you to stretch out my walls, daddy,” you finally answer, using your hands to spread your pussy wide for him. “Fuck me until I can’t walk,” you plead, wiggling your tailbone and pushing his erection into your cunt.

This is admission enough for him, he inserts the head and you feel your whole-body tremble. His cock is so thick, you can really feel your pussy stretching for him. He grabs your hips and slowly starts adding some of his length. You tense up and grab his arm, he stops immediately. “Just relax, relax baby,” he reassures you.

You take a deep breath in and he pushes himself into you on exhale, placing a hand on the small of your back as he goes deeper… and deeper and deeper, as if his dick is bottomless. You find yourself pulling at his sheets again, more tears forming in your eyes. He starts rocking his hips, cramming his large cock into your tight pussy. Each push begins loosening you up, your pain turning into pleasure as he inserts more of himself into you. “Good girl,” he flatters, giving a small smack to your ass and making you jump.

Both of you moaning in pleasure, fucking to the rhythm of the song playing. The instruments enveloping you and you push yourself even more against his dick, wanting to feel all of him inside you. “Give it all to me,” you demand, pushing him deeper inside of you. You both sigh with how deep he’s getting. “Fuck me, daddy,” you hear yourself wailing like a child.

“M’yeah?” he breathes, taking it as a challenge. In an instant, he executes your request, shoving himself balls deep, filling your guts with his thick length. Taken aback, you accidentally knock out all the lights in his room with a squeal, leaving behind a single candle on the opposite side of his room. The wind gets knocked out of you; breath unsteady. You can’t summon any words to your lips, just incessant choked sobs that wither away at the back of your throat.

He keeps pounding himself into you, his balls slapping your clit and sending goosebumps throughout your body. “You like being your coven’s dirty slut?” he spits, giving another hard slap to your ass. You can’t bring yourself to answer him. He drills so deep into you that you can feel him hammering your cervix. You can’t take him anymore and autonomously shift yourself away from him with a raucous scream, crawling away from his thick cock, but Michael chases. He clicks his tongue. “Don’t run away from it, baby,” he teases as you keep shifting.

You stop crawling away once you reach the edge of his bed, his cock sitting idly inside your tight pussy as he catches up. He breaks the lull and starts pumping into you quickly again, this time pinning your arms behind your back. “No more running away,” he taunts. You feel your pussy spasming with each plunge, your muscles adjusting to his fat cock, but they never seem to process it. You can’t stop moaning, screaming for more. You roll your eyes back and drop your head in defeat, taking the hard pounding to your cunt. “That’s it, baby,” he sighs. “Take all of daddy’s cock like a good slut.”

He guides himself into you, salaciously smacking into your round ass with each thrust. You feel like your whole body is crumbling under his touch, one more move and you’d be pure dust. Your heartbeat quickened, body shaking, numbness in your legs, you know you’re close to coming. You close your eyes shut, clenching your jaw, stifled moans escaping animalistically from the back of your throat. You squeeze one of Michael’s arms as he continues holding your hands behind your back. Papers fly off his desk, the music volume fluctuates, you can’t believe how strong your powers are becoming under him.

“C’mon, baby,” he continues assaulting your cunt with hard thrusts, “come for me. Come for daddy.” He wraps a large hand around your throat, hitching your breath, and directs your body to be flush against his. Your back against his chest, creating friction as he keeps with the same fervor. His lips against your ear, “Who’s your Supreme now, baby?”

The thought of Cordelia decaying on the couch in the common space right now crosses your mind, but being under Michael’s influence sends dark thoughts rushing in your head. Who cares? “You, Michael. You’re my new Supreme,” you answer with a strangled sob.

He pushes you back onto the bed, burying your head into his mattress. You suck up his scent through the fabric; drooling onto his sheets while being fucked senseless, you love the way he uses you. “That’s right, baby,” he affirms, “I’m the fucking Supreme.”

He gives another smack, and with that, a trembling throughout your entire body. “Michael, I’m coming!” you scream, trying to lift yourself up, but he keeps pushing you down. “Michael, I’m-!” you get cut off by the unyielding orgasm overtaking your body. Your mouth hangs open, eyes rolled back, fingers digging into his sheets. The lower half of your body surrenders to the orgasm gushing juices from your already-soaking cunt.

Michael sneers over you coming before him, but he’s close to release too. You flip onto your back and he fondles your breasts, throwing his head back and letting out a deep sigh. His skin turns a sickeningly pale white, his eyes meet yours, completely blacked out. He leans down to give you a quick kiss on the lips, his skin burning hot. Why aren’t you scared?

Although you were certain you had lost feeling between your legs from orgasm, when he thrusts himself into you, the hardest he has yet, you can’t help but let out a little yelp. You feel his hot seed spilling into your cunt, he takes himself out of you, smearing his come into your folds with the tip of his cock. You don’t even give yourself the opportunity to dwell on what happened to Michael during orgasm, why he looked so evil. You write it off as maybe-it’s-a-warlock-thing.

He collapses next to you, skin returning to it’s usual light tan and eyes reverting to a deep blue. So blue that you can fall right into them. Oh, your mind wanders, how will you ever hide this from Cordelia? Or worse, how could you explain yourself to her? Face her at this time?

Michael rests his palm on your cheek, swaying your gaze towards him and snapping you out of your daze. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head about Cordelia,” he assures you. Fuck, he was listening.

He plants a soft kiss on your lips, much more loving than anything else he’s done with you tonight. “Cordelia is falling. Remember, I’m your Supreme now… and you don’t have to worry about a thing.”

#hello #another music inspired smutty fanfic lol whats new #xavier fic prob coming soon oop #michael langdon #ahs apocalypse #michael langdon x reader #american horror story #apocalypse #smut #hawthorne michael #xavier plympton #ahs imagine #michael langdon smut #ahs #michael langdon x fem reader #ahs fanfic #michael langdon one shot #michael langdon imagine #imagine

[interstellar-shores]

Your Mind Aches - Ch 2. Don’t You Wait (Josh POV)

Josh Kiszka x (F) Reader x Jake Kiszka

Warnings: Some angst, that’s it.

Summary: It’s okay to date your ex’s brother. Right? After being in a successful long-term relationship, things get rocky when the boys prepare to go on tour. Through long text threads and occasional coffee outings with your best friend, you discover that your ex’s twin has feelings for you. 

Tag list: @garbagevanfleet, @brianmaysclog, @anditsmywholeheart​ 

“Hey, Jake!” Josh hollered from his room.

“Yeah?” Jake yelled.

“Can you help me box up Y/N’s stuff?”

“Sure. She knows you are doing this, right?” Jake’s right eyebrow moved up as he questioned his busy twin.

“I texted her, but I haven’t gotten a response yet. It’d be nice if she could receive the box today.” Josh stated in a condescending tone. Jake rolled his eyes in disgust. “Why are you looking at me?”

“It’d be nice if she could receive the box today? Josh, you dumped her for a bullshit reason, and you expect her to come over and act as if it’s normal for her to pick up her belongings from her former LONG-TERM partner! She left baffled and upset yesterday, and you think visiting the scene of the crime is going to be enough closure for her?” Jake looked at his twin’s changing expressions.

“You know what? Since you care so much, why don’t you return her crap to her! I’m under pressure just from the thought of going on tour and giving up smoking to keep my voice just so your dream can come true!”

“Don’t start that shit, Josh!” Jake yelled, “You acted fine with falling into this career path, and you always came crawling back after you quit! Under pressure, my ass. You know what, I’ll give Y/N her stuff back so it’ll be easier for her to move on, I just hope she finds a better guy!”

“Geez, you act as if you’re in love with her. Okay, fine, so what if she doesn’t see me again because she finds someone better? Hell, after this she won’t have to step foot in this house.” Josh looked at the box of Y/N’s stuff, a tear forming in his eye. He had to get this done and rid himself of Y/N. I felt ashamed for dumping Y/N, but it was unclear why I needed to do it. Was I questioning my ability to support a long-term relationship? Or was there something else that made me cut ties with Y/N? It didn’t matter right now.

“Josh. She hung out here for four years. Y/N was optimistic for you. She was always the one who cheered you on when people scoffed at you. It’s one thing to throw it all away, but to be a dick too?” Jake resorted back to his healing solution, and I was quick to notice.

Sam stepped into the room. “To be fair, this break up is hard for us too. I mean, yeah, I told you and Y/N to get a room. But we love her.” Sam was leaning on the door frame. “I can’t believe you let her go.”

“Yeah, well, it’s done now.” I looked at the floor, no longer being able to handle the conversation.

Jake texted Y/N. I continued to put the box together, and Sam assisted.

“Hey, guys!” Danny walked in smiling. “So you and Y/N are over?” he asked, his demeanor now negative.

“Yep.” was the only response I could manage.

The room was heavy. The air was a mix of dread and confusion.

“Well, um, Y/N's is going to be here in an hour. How much stuff do we have left?” Jake asked.

“We’re finishing up the last bits and pieces. Sam, can you check downstairs?” I asked.

“Sure,” Sam replied.

“I’ll go with him.” Danny made his way through the hall.

“Want me to answer the door?” Jake asked.

Later

I paced around his room, looking out the window to see if Y/N arrived. When I spotted Y/N’s car, my heart sank.

Y/N knocked on the door and Jake was there to present her neatly packed stuff. I noticed her linger for a moment, her lips forming sentences. Then I saw her set the box on the ground to wrap her arms around Jake, Sam, and Danny. If Ronnie, mom, and dad were home, they’d embraced her too. They loved her! Y/N picked the box up and made her way to the car and drove away.

“We’re separated now”. I whispered to myself, and tears formed again.

*I accidentally deleted my old blog so the is Interstellar Shores 2.0*