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sluttywoozi · 1 month

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Interlude No. 7 | wjh x f!reader

Interlude No. 7: You snap at Jun and he teaches you a lesson in the art of patience.

Rating: M (18+) | WC: ~2.6k | Pairing: wjh x f!reader | Genre: smut

Warnings: fingering, edging, orgasm delay/denial, piv sex, creampie

Reader Notes: has breasts and a vagina, referred to with she/her pronouns

You regret snapping at Jun the very moment the words leave your stress-bitten lips.

“Can I not have just five minutes of goddamn peace in this house?”

You shudder thinking about the frustration and impatience in your voice, the ringing of your words in the otherwise silent bathroom, the way Jun immediately shrunk into himself and left without a word.

You were in the middle of your skincare routine when he came in, coming up behind you to settle his hands on your hips before asking where the extra formula was. You told him, for what had to be the fourth time, that you keep it on top of the fridge, that it’s exactly where it’s been since you bought it.

He hummed and nodded, squeezing your hips in apology before saying, “Right, I remember now. How much should I use, though? I don’t know how hungry he is, you normally feed him.”

You took a deep, centering breath and responded, “Half a scoop in the bottle, fill the rest with water.”

“Okay, perfect. And where are the-”

That third question, that’s when you snapped.

You shouldn't have, and you know this, but if you’re being honest, all you wanted was to get through your skincare routine uninterrupted. You don’t think that’s a big thing to ask, especially when you haven’t been able to carry out the sequence in a timely manner since you brought the baby home.

There’s always something to be done, a mess to be cleaned, a question to be answered. It’s been weeks since you had even a modicum of personal time, both by yourself and with your fiance, and you knew you were stretched thin, but you didn’t realize you were about to break.

However, you have to admit that Jun isn’t to blame for his lack of knowledge, not when he’s working and you’re doing the brunt of the caring. You hate that you got irritated with him for asking questions you wouldn’t have known the answer to if you were him, and you hate even more that you couldn’t keep it inside and instead let your frustrations out on him.

After that, you barely even felt like finishing out your routine, though you went through the motions anyway, not wanting it all to have been for nothing. You also, perhaps, wanted to hide from him and your shame for a little bit longer.

Now here you sit on the bed, psyching yourself up to approach him and apologize.

He’s your fiance, it should be easy to say sorry to him, you tell yourself.

Truthfully, you don’t want to come face to face with his downturned mouth or his muted spirit or his big, sad eyes. You’re expecting all three, and you just know the combination will feel like a punch to the gut. It’s what you deserve though, for the way you acted.

So you force yourself to stand up and amble to the door, your steps weary and your shoulders tense. You’ve just opened it and entered the hallway when you hear Jun’s soft voice, barely traveling to where you stand.

“We’re gonna be spending some more time together, baby. I think I’ve been working and leaving mommy alone with you too much, she needs to be able to take care of herself too.”

You tiptoe down the hall and peek around the cased opening, finding Jun sitting on the couch with his back to you and your seven week old foster kitten held up in his hands so they’re eye to eye. Peanut blinks his big eyes, seemingly listening to Jun and content to be cradled in his big, warm hands.

Every hint of exasperation melts away as your heart swells, leaving you feeling weak enough you have to rest against the wall to hold yourself up. You’re about to stumble your way into the living room when a knock sounds on the front door, making you jump and wonder who could be here at this hour.

Sure, it’s only nine PM, but it’s nearly your little family’s bedtime, your schedule much more regular now that you have a kitten to care for. Jun doesn’t seem fazed by the visitor, rising from the couch smoothly and hugging Peanut to his chest as he turns to walk toward the hall.

He does startle when he sets eyes on you, before he sends you a boxy grin and smooches your cheek on his way to the front door. You follow him on light feet, watching as he carefully sets Peanut in his carrier and picks up a canvas bag. The door opens to reveal Wonwoo, who takes both the cat and the bag without much fanfare.

“See you tomorrow, Peanut. We love you,” Jun calls, waving as Wonwoo returns to his car before closing and locking the front door. He faces you next and smiles a bit more shyly, taking your hand and guiding you to the bedroom without speaking.

“What’s going on?” You ask cluelessly, your fingers clinging tightly to his when he tries to pull away.

“I thought you could use a night off, so Peanut is having a sleepover with his cousins,” he says nervously. “I hope that’s okay. I can go sleep on the couch if you want to be completely alone.”

“No!” You exclaim before continuing, “I mean, the sleepover is sweet and thoughtful, and I do need a night off, but I don’t want to be alone without you.” Your other hand flies up to grab his and pull him to sit on the bed next to you. “You’re not upset with me for earlier?”

Jun shakes his head rapidly, his hair tousling on his forehead, “Of course I’m not upset with you, baby. You just needed a break.”

“Well… I’m sorry, anyway,” you frown, playing with his fingers. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”

“It happens,” he shrugs easily, brushing the moment off like it’s nothing.

You’re lucky to be engaged to someone who balances you out, who can withstand your high strung tendencies, who understands when you’re overstimulated and stressed and knows how to make it better.

God, you love him. And you want him to fuck you brainless.

It’s been hard to find time for intimacy lately, between raising a kitten and trying to get enough sleep, and you’re aching for him in a way you haven’t felt since his last long business trip.

His sex drive is even higher than yours so you’re sure he’s missed you too, and it takes little more than a look into his eyes and your hand dragging his up your thigh for him to get on board. His lips are on yours before you can take another breath, his other hand freeing itself so he can cup your neck and angle your head to deepen the kiss, his tongue seeking entrance immediately.

You grant it without a second thought, your lips parting for him as his fingers slip into your pajama shorts and skim over your pussy. He loves to tease you, loves to make you gasp and plead before giving you exactly what you want as if he never withheld it from you in the first place.

Usually, you can endure it with no problem, but tonight, you’re desperate.

It’s been weeks since you had the time and energy for more than a messy makeout in the dark, and already you can feel heat gathering deep in your stomach, feel your cunt starting to throb for him.

You pull away to whip your shirt over your head and scooch further onto the duvet, smiling at the way his eyes immediately zero in on your bare breasts. He follows you, climbing up and straddling your waist, pulling his own shirt off before leaning down to kiss you again, his lips hungry and his hands wandering.

His fingers roll your nipples, tugging them, pinching them until your back arches and you whine into his mouth. He swallows it eagerly, responding with a low moan and dragging his hands down your stomach. They can only go so far with him on top of you like this, and you feel him huff against your lips when he realizes he’ll have to move to get your shorts off.

A giggle bubbles out of you as he heaves a dramatic sigh and shifts to lay at your side, his fingers hooking in the waistband of your pajamas and wrenching them down to give him access. You bicycle your legs until you can fling them away, uncaring of where they land now that Jun is slipping one arm under your neck and pulling the leg closest to him over his own to open you up.

His fingers swirl over your stomach and down between your legs, the light touch making you tense in anticipation. You expect him to tease you, to make you wait for it, so you cry out when his fingers coast over your clit and sink right inside, curling into your sweet spot before you’ve even gotten used to the feeling of fullness.

You turn your head to look at him with shocked eyes, and he just smiles to himself and spreads his fingers, scissoring them inside of you and grinding his fingertips against your front wall again. You find you can’t look away now, not when you can watch every expression play out on his face, watch the way his eyebrows furrow when you clench around him and the way he bites his lip when your hips buck into his touch.

He’s so beautiful, your Jun, and so, so, so good with his fingers.

It helps that they’re long, lithe, agile, his knuckles dragging against your squeezing walls as he fucks his fingers in and out of you. They crook into your g-spot every so often, not frequently enough to build you up but enough to make you want more. You always want more of Jun, it’s part of how you got together in the first place.

When you were friends, you wanted more.

When you were dating, you wanted more.

Now that you’re engaged, you still want more.

You have a feeling that this desire for him will never fade, that too much could never be enough, that even after you’ve spent your life with him, you’ll still. want. more.

Thank goodness Jun is always willing to give himself to you, even if he does make you work for it.

You’re working for it right now, fighting not to beg him to just make you cum already, your pussy wet enough that you can hear every thrust of his fingers. You know he can hear it too but you’re long past being embarrassed with him, especially when you get this wet for him every single fucking time.

He’s pleased by it, you can tell by the light flush on his face, the dark look in his eyes, the weight of his gaze on your pussy as it sucks in his moving fingers. Finally, he starts hitting your g-spot with every thrust, his thumb shifting to press flat on your clit and rub tiny circles that make your brain melt.

You gasp and let your head fall back on his arm, your eyes fluttering shut as you feel yourself get closer and closer. It’s almost in sight, your orgasm, you just need a little bit of focus and maybe one more finger.

You open your mouth to ask him for it, but before you can even get a word out, he’s saying, “No, I don’t want you to cum yet.”

“What?” You ask despondently, blinking your eyes open to stare at him in disbelief.

“I want you to wait,” he tilts his wrist to get a better angle, fucking his fingers into you even harder, even faster. “I’ll let you get close, but I don’t want you to cum until I’m inside of you.”

“Why?” You whine brokenly, your hand coming up to grip his arm for strength as he denies you.

“It’s an exercise in patience,” he smirks, his eyes playful when they dart over to connect with yours.

You don’t ask any further questions, gravely accepting his decision and resigning yourself to this new form of teasing.

For what feels like hours, he builds you up and brings you back down, tapping directly into your g-spot then leaving his fingers stagnant inside of you, rubbing your clit with his insistent thumb then shifting it just to the side.

You take it all, blubbering half the time and moaning for the rest, your eyes filling with tears as he pushes you right up to the edge then pulls you right back.

It’s a method of torture you didn’t know him to be capable of, and you can’t help but wonder if there’s more you don’t know. You almost hope there is, because that just means there’s more of Jun to learn (and you always want more).

You wonder how he’s got so much self control. You can feel his dick twitching and leaking under your leg, even through his pajama pants, and if the roles were switched, this would already be over.

It’s getting to the point where you’re on the verge of cumming every other minute, needing less and less from him to work you up, your orgasm dangling so close you can almost taste it.

“Juuuun,” you whimper desperately, unsure of how much more you can take.

He glances over at you and can’t seem to look away, his face growing closer to yours until he’s nose to nose with you, your watering eyes connected with his.

Then he pulls his fingers out, tears down his pants, and fills you with his cock before you even register the emptiness.

The stretch is immaculate, the heat of him otherworldly, the pleasure all consuming.

You suck in a breath, feel yourself bear down, and cum harder than you ever have in your whole goddamn life. It steals your voice and your vision, leaving you to listen to every choked out sound leaving you and every grunt and whimper coming from Jun. His hips smack into yours rapidly, wildly, the drag of his cock inside you intensifying every feeling in your overwrought body.

Your eyes roll back into your head and you shudder against him, your legs trembling and your pussy spasming as he bursts within you, his cum painting your rippling walls and filling you to the brim.

When it’s all over, you don’t move for eons, your eyes gently closed and your body limp in his hold. You sense him pulling out, leaving the bed, cleaning you up with a warm, damp cloth. His fingers smell clean when they drift over your face, he must have washed his hands before coming back. He’s whispering to you as he dresses you in new pajamas, murmuring words you can’t make out in your muddled mind. They soothe you anyway, bring you to the surface enough to blink your eyes open and gaze at him.

He smiles when he notices, cupping your cheeks and brushing his thumbs under your eyes, sweeping away the tears that fell without your notice. You summon enough energy to pucker your lips, and he smiles even wider before pressing his mouth to yours in a sweet, soft kiss.

Soon enough, you’re drifting off again, his head resting on your chest and his arm banded over your stomach, keeping you safe.

He fucks you three more times that night, and when you wake up to a knock on the door and a kitten to care for, you actually do feel like your patience has grown.

AN: i still don't feel super confident writing Jun but I'm glad I tried! I had a good time and I enjoy him immensely!

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earlgreyflowers · 2 months

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39. we’re not just friends and you know it with max x teammate!best friend! reader. please and thank you!

A/N time for some Max appreciation besties <3

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Max was starting to think he was the most readable person on earth, with every single member of the paddock seemingly pointing out how obvious his crush on you was.

"Dude, your eyes are literally always on them." Daniel laughs, nudging Max with his elbow as they walk. Max feels a blush rise to his cheeks, "Are they? I haven't noticed." He mutters, his eyes glued to your figure as you talk to GP in the Red Bull garage. Daniel shakes his head, following Max's eye line to meet the shape of you, now waving at your best friend. Max breaks out in a large grin, waving back at you before speeding up to join you sooner.

"He's so obvious." Charles says, rolling his eyes at his childhood rival. "We need to get involved." Daniel states, "Let him know that we all know, and to make a goddamn move already before someone else does." Charles nods in agreement, "I'll let Carlos know the plan."

Daniel smiles, "Perfect, he'll tell Lando and then Lando will tell everyone."

"I'll tell everyone what?" Lando asks, appearing from nowhere. "That Max is in love with Y/N." Charles explains, watching Max interact with you. "Oh been there, done that. I told everyone like two weeks ago, catch up guys." Lando explains, leaving the two smirking that their plan was apparently already in action.

It's a week later when Lando brings the subject up to Max. They're out playing padel, and you're sat on a bench with a book, soaking up the sun and attempting to ignore the yells of Lando and Alex. Lando and Max are stood by the net, casually chatting whilst George and Alex get some water. "So, do you like Y/N or something?" He asks, head tilted at Max as he fumbles his words trying to respond.

"Why would you think that? Me and Y/N? What? How could you think that?" He blurts, hand scratching the back of his neck as he avoids eye contact with Lando, eyes glancing over to you to make sure you're not listening. "You keep staring at her like you're in love with her man, all heart-eyes and gross." Lando explains, causing Max to scoff out a nervous laugh as George and Alex rejoin them.

"Are you talking about Y/N?" Alex asks, smiling when Max gets impossibly more flustered. "So you can all tell then?" Max asks, nervousness overtaking his tone. "Yes, you look at her like she created the universe," George says, "And also you look like you want to kill us whenever we speak to her." He concludes, eyebrows raising at Max in an accusatory manner.

"I need to tell her don't I?" He asks, a resounding yes coming from the group.

The thought of telling you how he felt was eating Max up inside, making him cold and distant towards you. Every weekend you could be you were in the Red Bull garage, a large 33 sprawled across your back as you cheered him on. Max barely acknowledge you during these weekends, instead insisting that he's not happy with the performance of the car and needs to focus on being faster. You roll your eyes, "Sure, you've won 8 races in a row but you need the car to be faster. I'm not stupid Max." You tell him before leaving the paddock without him and heading back to the hotel.

Max sits in the garage glumly after you leave, cowering away from the disappointed head shakes that Daniel sends his way after he sees you leave. He doesn't register anything until he finds himself outside your hotel door, hand raised ready to knock. Before he can make contact with the wood of the door it swings open, revealing his very mad best friend, you.

"I know you're mad at me, please let me in and I can explain." Max grovels, eyes wide with sadness as he pleads for you to humour him. You say nothing, stepping aside and letting him walk in, his shoulders visibly relaxing at your kindness. You sit on the edge of your hotel bed, watching as Max paces the room. You want to stand and help him, bury yourself in his chest until he calms down but you need him to explain himself.

"Did I do something?" You ask quietly, Max halting in his movements. "No, no Y/n you could never do anything." He says, standing in front of you. His hand rests under your chin, tilting your head towards him. He stares down at you, an unrecognisable glint in his eye.

"Then why have you been so distant with me Max? I just- I can't do this." You explain, eyebrows crinkling in worry. "Do what?" He asks, thumb swiping gently back and forth against your chin as he forces you to look at him. "I can't lose my best friend." Max's eyes close at your words, jaw clenching. "That word." He murmurs, frustration seeping into his tone, "I hate that word."

"What word? Lose?" You ask, confusion growing by the minute. Max takes a deep breath, "Friend." He tells you, your heart dropping at his words.

"We're not just friends, and you know it." He explains, "You know that you are the greatest thing to ever happen to me, my support system. Yes, you are my best friend, of course you are. I could never picture my life without you by my side, but that's not because you're my best friend. It's because I'm in love with you."

Your eyes widen at his words, smile creeping over your lips. "I knew telling Lando would work." You laugh, "He can't keep his mouth shut." Max looks at you in confusion, "What do you mean?"

"I told Lando how much I liked you, how much I loved you, and he told me to leave to him, clearly whatever he did worked." You smile, watching as Max mirrors the same smile. "You're lucky I love you, je nachtmerrie." You giggle at his words, "Say it again." You request, voice dropping to a whisper as Max leans in.

"I love you schatje."

His pillowy lips meet yours in a gentle kiss, your stomach churning with pleasure as you slip your hand behind his neck. He follows your lead, deepening the kiss and swirling his tongue with your own. You surrender yourself to him, allowing his tongue to dominate your own as he leans toward you. He breaks his lips from yours before attaching them to your neck, sucking and biting as he explores your body.

You feel the vibrations of his soft groans against your skin, relishing in the fact that he can finally touch you the way he's always wanted. "Been waiting so long for this dropje, can I do everything I've been thinking of?" He asks, kneeling down in front of you as his hands slide under your hoodie. You nod, smiling at your best friend as he lifts your hoodie. He licks his lip, trapping at between his teeth with a muted groan as he sees the lack of bra underneath your clothes.

"So pretty, my god." He mutters, lips meeting the soft skin in between your breasts before traveling over the mounds. His large hands encompass your chest, kneading and squeezing your tits as his tongue swirls around your nipples. You whimper at the feeling, expressing your pleasure with a hand on the back of his head, encouraging him to continue. Your nipples are hard from a combination of his tongue and the cool air circulating the room, your back arching at the tingly pleasure shooting down your spine.

His lips trail down your stomach, leaving a wet line cooled by the breeze, causing goosebumps to rise on your skin. Max's fingers edge into the band of your shorts, tugging them down. He groans at the lack of underwear there too, evidence that you had showered when you got back from the track. Max places kisses on your inner thighs, smirking when your muscles clench at the feeling of his lips. He admires the way your pussy glistens under the light of your lamp, the sheen of wetness making his mouth water.

He licks his lips before hovering closer to your core, the tickle of his breath causing your walls to clench around nothing. Max groans at the movement, "Are you desperate schatje?" You whine at his question, bucking your hips toward his face.

"Please Max, need you."

He smirks at your whiny tone before flattening his tongue against your pussy, using the muscle to split open your folds. He moans against you at the taste, his tongue swirling around your clit. You watch as he pulls his face away, a string of your juices connecting his lips to you. His eyes have darkened beyond recognition, lust clouding his senses. Max dives back in, tongue flicking and sucking every inch that it can reach.

He pays attention to what makes you moan louder, what makes your walls clench and your thighs tighten around his head. He's certain that he could die a happy man between your legs, drowning in the sweet juices that coat his tongue. He seals his lips around your clit, sloppily slurping and sucking as you squirm above him. The tip of his finger swirls around your wetness, soaked now in both arousal and spit just like Max's chin.

He feels the way your pussy jumps at his touch, slipping his finger in gently, curling it up against your g-spot. The moan you let out his heaven to Max's ears, his cock throbbing in his jeans as he seeks friction for the ache.

"Fuck Max, you're gonna make me cum." You whine, hand raking through Max's hair as you pray he never stops. He groans louder at the force of your hand against his head, doubling his efforts until all that can be heard in the room are your moans and the wet sounds of his tongue between your legs. He flicks his tongue as fast as he can, ignoring the burn in his jaw and the need to breathe as he gets smothered by your thighs. He's rewarded when your orgasm hits, flooding his tongue with the taste of you as your hips flinch in sensitivity.

Max stands from the bed, quickly ridding himself of his clothes. In your hazy state you still manage to admire him, the thickness of his thighs, the bulging muscles in his arms, his toned stomach. But it's the soft smile on his face that you can't help but reciprocate that sends butterflies floating in your tummy and a shiver down your spine.

He clambers back onto the bed, leaning on his elbows above you. Max's lips slot against your own, the faint taste of your cum making its way into your mouth with every swirl of his tongue. Your soft hand wraps around the base of his cock, slowly sliding up before swiping your thumb over the weeping tip. You bring your thumb up to your mouth, sucking it into your mouth and relishing in the salty taste of his precum.

Max's eyes widen at the sight, practically whimpering at the realisation his biggest wet dream is coming true. "You're amazing," he utters, voice thick with desire. "Please tell me I can fuck you schatje, I need to feel you." You barely grace him with a verbal answer, grasping his cock and guiding him towards your entrance.

He thrusts himself forward, his thick tip stretching your walls. Your back arches at the mixture of pleasure and pain, eyes fluttering shut. Max's head drops down to your shoulder, body shuddering with a groan as he feels the warmth of your pussy.

"I've wanted this for so long, dreamt of it so many times," He whispers against your skin, sucking a purple mark as he bottoms out. Your walls encase him like a vice, his eyes practically rolling with every slow grind of his cock into your pussy. Your legs wrap around his hips, encouraging his deep strokes, nails scratching against his muscular shoulders.

You're surrounded by Max, his scent clings to you as he fills you up, feeling him in the depths of your stomach with each thrust. You slip your hand between the two of you, rubbing against your swollen clit as the wet noises of your pussy echo through the room. Max frowns at the feeling of your hand bumping his stomach.

He leans back from his position crouched over the top of you, knocking your hand from your pussy and making you whine. "Max please." You beg, desperate to cum one more time.

"I know, I know, but you have me know you don't need to do that." He explains, splaying his large hand across your stomach, his thumb dipping down to swipe against your clit. His rhythm increases, thrusting harder and faster into you, your arousal spilling out around his cock. "Cum for me schatje come on, not gonna stop until you do." Max mutters, hitting that spot inside you with every drag of his hips.

Your jaw drops and your eyes roll as your orgasm washes over your body, goosebumps covering your skin in its wake. Max barely lasts long enough to prolong your orgasm before he pulls out, stroking his cock until white ropes of cum splash over your stomach. He groans with each pulse, his arm dropping as he struggles to hold himself up.

He slips off the bed, returning with a towel from the bathroom to clean you up. He sidles up next to you, bundling you up in his arms, encasing you in his warmth.

"I love you, always have." He whispers, assuming your deep breaths as a sign of sleep, a smile gracing his face as you cuddle deeper into him.

Thanks for the help, is the text Lando receives before Max goes to sleep

No problem, heard it went well for you, is the reply Max sees when he wakes up.

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moonlitdesertdreams · 1 day

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Take the damn shot

A/N: Ohhhhh I've spiraled. Going from Mandalorian fics to writing about a radioactive cowboy with no nose within a couple weeks of each other is totally healthy :) Tags: Fallout, Cooper Howard, Cooper Howard x F!Reader, Cooper Howard x You, Ghoul x Reader WARNINGS: Canon-Typical language and violence. Summary: A single quiet day in the saloon is all you wanted. But somehow, your Ghoul partner is pulling his gun and you're covered in another person's blood. Honestly, it's just typical.

Word Count: 1.7k+

(GIF Credit to @djo)

The Ghoul hates to admit it, but he needs you.

In the same sick and twisted, goddamned way he needs the Vials to stay sane, he needs you next to him. When poison air grows thick and the scorching sun sinks beyond a brutalized horizon, you’re always at his side. Day in and day out, you stick around. Full of piss and vinegar, ready to take on the fucked up world you’re all stuck in.

And Cooper’s not one for generosity anymore, but he gives you credit a lot of the time. He knows he can be nasty, and you don’t mind one bit. In spite of his callousness and general disregard for safety, you put on a chipper attitude and tug him (sometimes physically) along to the next town. Outwardly innocent but filled with a mutual hatred for Vault-Tec and what its influence had done to the world and yourself, you’d quickly become his diamond in the rough.

And you shine particularly bright in the shack of a building the Wasteland called a saloon. You’ve made careful friends with a couple of gray-haired biddies- presumably the owners- in the back of the room, and chat happily with them. Cooper sits off to the side behind you, a bottle of the local brew dangling between his fingers. He’s content for the first time in a while; ass in a creaky rocking chair and boots kicked up on an old milk crate. The brim of his hat is pulled down to hide the majority of his face, but eyes wander lazily from you to the front door.

Cooper didn’t think many things were nice any longer, but listening to you prattle on with the women warmed something in his dead heart.

“You’re awfully pretty for this place.” The older of the two women, sporting a single eye and an impressively neat beehive style, compliments you. “Gotta be out of the Vaults with that skin.”

The Ghoul tenses, knowing the mention of your 200-year prison would strike a nerve.

“Yeah. I’m from before the war, actually.” You say it plainly and chase it down with a swig of liquor. “Fuckin’ Vault-Tec.”

The Ghoul’s familiar with your story, from you finding out about the plan to drop homemade bombs on American citizens to your confrontation with the executive group in Vault 31. Little did you know, you’d be sneaking in with no chance for escape. Cooper tightens his fist at the thought of Hank MacLean shoving you carelessly into a cryopod and slamming the button to lock you in. You’d relayed the story to him with watery eyes, and that’s something he absolutely loathed. He had enough personal beef with Hank that your trauma added to his ever-growing list of things to be absolutely pissed-the-fuck-off about.

Finch and Sparrow, as they were so comically named, clutch their pearls in sadness as you tell your story. They fawn over you, and Cooper makes out a few ‘fuck them Vaulties’ and a ‘well as much as it sucks, we’re glad you made it this far’. You sniff just barely and wipe your eyes.

“Thanks, ladies. It means a lot.”

The conversation turns back pleasant for the most part, and you’re enthralled as the women pull you into the town gossip. Cooper begrudgingly gets up to piss, comfy as he was, but stops at your side to hand off his bag first. You take it with a nod, more interested in the rumor mill than his whereabouts for the moment. He swaggers to the back door of the saloon, where wind whips sand against his jeans and patters the leather of his boots with tiny rocks.

Voices drift out the door from inside as Cooper yanks his zipper back up.

“Is it true what they say ‘bout Vaulties?” It’s a man’s voice, gruff and demanding in comparison to the happy lilt of yours. “Heard your story and always been… curious.”

“If you listened, you would know I ain’t no Vaultie.” Your reply is instant, but the edge in your voice has Cooper stepping a little faster down the short hallway. He reemerges to the sight of a suspiciously dressed man leaning against the wood beam beside your table, a little too close for comfort.

“Sure you are, darlin’. I can tell by lookin’ at’chya.” The man’s face is half-covered by a bandanna, and a pair of sand goggles are pushed up on his forehead, “Like they say.. everything’s… softer.”

There’s suddenly a hand landing on your shoulder, and Cooper sees red. His gun is pulled before he knows it, leveling at the man’s forehead.

“Hands off the girl.” He growls.

On closer inspection the man is probably close to the age you appear. Above the bandanna, weatherbeaten skin turns into frizzy ginger hair. He’s wearing a typical duster type coat, and the goggles are leaving red marks in his forehead. Cooper decides he’s taken shits more attractive than him.

Probably smarter, too.

“Fuck off, Ghoul.” Is the reply Cooper receives, sending a flash of white-hot anger through his already irradiated body. “I wasn't talkin’ to you.”

It was all too common, being brushed off. At this point in his life, it actually brings a smirk to his face. Your mouth is even tipping up at the edges, having had many interactions with the can of worms this guy was prying open.

“Listen man, I think you should let it go.” You warn and try to stand from the broken chair you had been carefully perching on. The red-head doesn’t relent, and pushes you back down into the chair. It wobbles dangerously as Cooper stomps closer. The movement prompts your captor to pull his own gun. It’s a crudely made pipe pistol, but able to shoot flying projectiles into your brains nonetheless.

“Get your goddamn hands off her before I decorate that wall with your fuckin’ skull.” Cooper yanks the hammer back on his pistol, hesitating at your close proximity.

The redhead pulls his bandanna down and Cooper watches you lean away as you recognize the scent and characteristics of a Fiend. His teeth are hanging loosely at crooked angles, and the pock marks around his mouth from scratching his skin open drip blood and serous fluid. His gun is trained on Cooper, but he freezes when he sees the Ghoul shift forward.

“Ah ah ah. How’d you like me to put a bullet in her instead?” The Fiend tugs you to your feet and nuzzles at your hair as he presses the barrel of his gun to your ribs. “I’d love a taste myself.”

The suffocating need to keep you safe and at his side fills Cooper’s corroded veins as you scowl at the Fiend whose nose is pressed dangerously close to your cheek with rotten teeth bared. Rage ignites from the anger he’s already feeling.

BANG.

Cooper’s watching when the red spray of blood washes over half the saloon, but still doesn’t quite comprehend what’s happened. His gun didn’t fire, but the scent of ignited powder fills the air. You fall to the floor along with your captor, and the aforementioned rage boils over. He holsters his gun and scrambles to pull you away in the chaos.

Thankfully, a quick once-over shows you to have no injuries, but the same can’t be said for your attacker. A foot away the Fiend lies still, about five pounds lighter from the gaping hole in his chest. Gore from his wound is splattered thick across your face and neck. Your eyes are pinched closed to avoid anything unsightly entering them, and you lash out blindly when Cooper grasps your arms.

“Let me go, you rotten bastard!” The Ghoul catches your right hand before it can hook into his jaw, “I’ll kill you myself.”

“Quit squealin’ sunshine, it’s me.” Cooper growls

While he’s getting a handle on your flailing limbs, a shadow covers the both of you. Cooper glances up at the one-eyed old woman who’s sawed-off shotgun is still smoking in her left hand.

“I know your brain is shrunken and all, but next time take the shot sooner.” She bites. “And feel free to clean up my damn bar.”

Cooper is torn between staring at the older woman- Sparrow, he thinks- and trying to contain your squirming. He’s not too fragile to admit he really doesn’t want to take a punch from you right now, so he wipes the back of his hand across your eyes and tugs you to sit up beside him.

“Cooper?”

He huffs a laugh at your incredulous tone and flicks away the remnants of blood littering your skin “The one and only. Open your eyes.”

They flicker open slowly, and you pout at the blood congealing on your clothes. “I just got these pants.”

Cooper sets a hand on your thigh and squeezes gently. “I’ll buy you a new pair. S’Long as you promise not to get Fiend all over those ones too.”

You thrust an elbow into his ribs at the jab and climb to your feet. Cooper follows with a dramatic groan.

“Old man.” You tease over your shoulder, observing the carnage from Sparrow’s well-aimed shot. A kick to the corpses’ ribs follows, sending a splatter of blood across Cooper’s pants. You shoot him an insincerely apologetic look. “She’s right, you know.”

The Ghoul follows your gaze to Sparrow, who’s hollering at any remaining patrons that dare tread too close to the mess, damning them for tracking blood around the bar.

“‘Bout what?”

You lean into his space, the scent of blood thick in the air. “Take the damn shot sooner.”

Cooper grabs the back of your neck and yanks you forward in a hard kiss. The blood transfers easily onto his lips, and he licks it off while pulling away. “Fucker deserved more than one shot.”

Possessiveness floods his mind and he squeezes the soft flesh beneath his fingers.

“I’da strung him up by his balls if I got my hands on him.” He mutters, tracing another finger through the blood and popping it into his mouth. “After grabbin’ onto you like that.”

You lean into his chest and let a smile curl the corners of your lips up. “All for little ol’ me?”

The Ghoul pinches your bloody cheek. “Anything for you, sweetheart.”

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

thanks for reading, much love ❤

Read More: Fallout Masterlist

#fallout imagine #cooper howard #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #cooper howard x f!reader #The Ghoul x Reader #the Ghoul x you #cooper howard x oc #fallout tv series #lucy maclean #walton goggins #fallout fiends #possessive!cooper howard #fallout #fallout 4 #fallout new vegas #ghouls deserve love too

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fluffairy · 2 years

Text

#weirdly I miss M #like I don’t really miss him but I miss him #at work we’re publishing a new graphic novel about a sci-fi writer and I thought wow wish we were still together so I could get him an ARC #lol homeboy really missed out on getting free books about comics via me #but anyway. I’m lonely and sad #i think as time goes by (almost 9 months now goddamn) my perception of this whole weird thing changes #into something a lot sweeter and cuter than what it actually was which was me crying and feeling bad all the time #doubting myself and my worth and scrutinizing every text and wondering if it was too good to be true and then it actually was #this wasn’t meant to be and it wouldn’t have lasted #and I hate continually talking about it bc no one wants to fucking hear it but I’ve never been good at getting over things and this affected #me deeply #i think I just miss who he used to be to me #and I feel sad about it #that’s all #m

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wynnyfryd · 5 months

Text

Trailer park Steve AU part 26

part 1 | part 25 | ao3

cw: period-typical homophobia, recreational drug/alcohol use

He’s marching over the grass with a couple of varsity guys; two on his left, two on his right; V-formation like a flock of geese. Jason's at the head of the group, self-assured purpose of a leader, and it’s weird, seeing this little runt all grown up. The kid used to worship Steve; used to follow him around practices like a lost puppy, called him Captain before he’d even earned the role.

“Is this freak bothering you?” Jason asks. His voice is harsh, winded, winding up for a fight. Steve can see it in his stance: the tightening of his jaw, the clench of his friends’ fists. Plant your feet.

Steve’s gotta shut this shit down before it goes where it always does. Smashed plates, broken bones. All pissing contests flow toward the ocean or whatever.

“Nah, man,” he answers, standing up to dust himself off. The coke zips under his skin, makes him jittery and hot. Hard to play it cool. “We’re good. Busted my ass on the rocks; Munson was just helping me up.”

Munson. Like they’re buddies. Like Eddie’s thumb isn’t still damp from Steve’s tongue.

Jason doesn't seem to buy it. Little pastor-cop in training, he narrows his eyes and turns on Eddie. “Were you following him, Freak?”

Eddie's eyes flash in warning, a muscle jumping in his jaw. Steve shifts his weight to stand in front of him, and his fingers twitch around empty air. He wishes he had his nail bat with him; kind of wants to glue the handle to his palm.

Never know when monsters will come crawling out of the woods.

"Well?" Jason barks, "Answer me!"

His lackeys all pipe up then, the guy to his right sneering, "Not so talkative without his lunch table to stand on, is he?"

"Look at him shaking," adds another.

"Think he was trying to do some Satanic ritual shit while no one was looking?"

"I don't know," says the guy on Jason's left. "Looked like they were sucking each other off to me. Hey, maybe Harrington’s turned fag.”

“Andy!” Jason warns, and Steve—

Steve staggers forward with three arrows in his chest. One for every letter of that stupid fucking word that's been haunting him for years; raging fire in a black box in the far reaches of his brain, belching thick, black smoke, singing his fingertips whenever he gets close enough to touch it.

He wonders if Andy can taste the sulfur in it, too.

“No, go on,” he seethes, voice deadly calm when he lays a hand on Andy’s chest. Steeple his fingers, tips his chin. “Say it again; don't think I heard you right.”

Andy swallows hard, grinds his teeth; tenses to square off for the fight, but Jason throws an arm in front of him. "Easy," he says.

Easy. Down boy.

Andy snarls and backs off.

Jason lowers his voice, searching Steve's face. "You sure you're good? Can't be too careful with..."

His gaze slides over Steve's shoulder, his nose wrinkling in disgust. Steve's never wanted to risk a concussion more. "I'm fine," he grits out, balking at the diplomatic bullshit that's about to slither from his mouth. "Really. Thanks, though, man; appreciate you looking out for me."

Jason gives him a serious nod. "Any time."

—

“So, uh…” Eddie squints at Steve once Jason and his goons run along. His arms are hugged tight around his middle, and he's biting his lip; nervous jiggle of his leg. “How, um— How are we playing this, exactly?”

Steve scrubs at his face; swoons where he stands. Feels like all the blood's drained out of him without the adrenaline to prop him up. Goddamn, he's still so drunk. “Playing what?” he asks, confused.

Whatever it is, it’s already been played, hasn’t it?

Fight’s over; Steve’s exhausted. He just wants to go home.

But then Eddie shakes his head and tuts softly at the ground, his expression gone sour and sad, and there it is again. That feeling that Steve’s fucking everything up somehow.

He’s so tired of that feeling.

Slowly, so slowly, he reaches out a hand. Skims Eddie's side; leather jacket, bony hip, and then he hooks his pinky finger into the belt loop of his jeans. Tugs, just a little. Not hard enough to topple him, just—

Enough.

He hopes.

—

part 27

tag lists in separate reblogs with the tag "#trailer park steve au taglist" if you'd like to filter that content, comment and let me know if you want me to add you tomorrow (21+ only, please confirm your age if you're asking to be tagged)

#trailer park steve au #steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #my writing #my fic

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cosmicmunsonwrites · 5 months

Note

for dad!jj— jj and the reader are in an argument and little maybank hears her parents yelling at each other saying hurtful things and she gets scared? yk yesterday she watched her parents with loving eyes as they laughed together, kissed, tucked her in bed, etc.. and now they’re acting as if they hate each other.

train wreck

pairing(s): dad!jj x mom!reader

warnings: yelling, hurtful words, teen parents

summary: while you and jj are in a heated argument, your daughter unfortunately catches a glimpse of it.

authors note: thank you for the request baby! enjoy :)

not edited

do not copy my works. i do not condone rewrites, translations, or edited versions. all my content is my content that i wrote.

not my gif

“yeah? well maybe if you weren’t running away every other goddamn day, i wouldn’t need to ask my parents for help!” you shouted at him.

“i have shit to do!” he shouted back. “don’t you dare make it seem like i don’t fuckin’ care for you or our daughter.”

you scoffed and rolled your eyes. “if you care so much, why are you never here?!”

“jesus christ, did you not listen to a single word i just said? i. have shit. to do!” he screamed, slamming his hand down on the table.

you knew he’d never hit you. he’d never even think about hurting you. yet the action was enough to make you jump. and that was when the both of you heard it.

the small whimper that you two had become so familiar with.

your heads immediately turned to the doorway where your toddler stood frozen, her bottom lip quivering and her eyes glossy as if she was about to cry. all the noise must’ve woken her from her nap with her messy hair and disheveled pjs. “what’s going on?” she asked, voice trembling.

you just wanted to cry knowing that your daughter had seen the monster inside the two of you. you quickly dropped any ounce of anger and frustration and rushed over to her. “hi baby,” you said softly, picking her up from under her arms. “we’re just talking.” you carried her out of the kitchen where the fight took place and into her room. “sometimes, me and daddy don’t always like the same things. we just have to talk about it to make it better.”

“are you okay, mommy?” she asked softly.

you nodded with a smile and brushed some of the short hair from her face. “i’m okay honey.”

“is daddy okay?” she questioned.

“mhm,” you said. “we’re okay. we just had a little disagreement.”

she leaned into your chest and wrapped her arms around your neck. “you guys were happy yesterday.”

you kissed her cheek softly and sat down on the bed with her. “i know. we’re gonna be okay. i promise.”

she crawled out of your hold and under her sheets with a big cheesy grin on her face. “go talk to daddy. i don’t like when you guys are sad.”

you chuckled and pressed another kiss to her forehead. “okay baby. you ready to go back to bed then?”

she nodded quickly. “night mommy. i love you.”

“i love you too,” you said, tucking her in and shutting her lamp off.

you headed out into the kitchen, rubbing your temples and groaning. “is she okay?” jj asked, standing up from his seat as soon as you entered the room.

“shes fine,” you replied tiredly. you hated fighting with him. it was hurtful and mentally exhausting.

he headed towards you, pulling your hands from your face and wrapping his arms around your waist. “i’m sorry, my love. i don’t wanna put anymore stress on you and i swear to be better. i just get overwhelmed with the whole having a kid at 19, you know? i’m sure you do too and its unfair of me to just leave all the responsibility on you whenever i feel like it. and i’m really, really sorry for yelling at you like that.” he apologized, his pretty blue eyes gazing into yours. “i just want to be here for you, sweetheart. for you and our daughter.”

you leaned into his firm chest, wrapping your arms around him and taking a deep breath. “it’s okay, j. i get it. but at the same time, this really has to stop.”

“and it will. i promise you it will,” he said, leaning back slightly and using his hand to tilt up your chin toward him. “i’m going to be here for the both of you until the end of time. i’m done running. you two are my entire world.”

you smiled tiredly and stood up on your toes to kiss his soft lips. “i love you jj.”

“i love you more, angel.”

#gracie writes jj maybank 🌸#gracies asks and requests 💌#jj maybank #jj maybank angst #jj maybank blurb #jj maybank fanfic #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank imagines #jj maybank obx #jj maybank x you #obx #jj #jj maybank smut #jj maybank imagine #obx jj #jj obx #jj outer banks

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theminecraftbee · 4 months

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I'm kinda glad Hermitcraft 9 is ending because it was incredibly obvious that most all of them were having trouble figuring out things to do 💀

Did Scar ever finish Scarland though?

so I fully understand everyone who is sad, because there are several unfinished projects. the notable ones are scarland, joe’s pinball machine, and mumbo’s new base. plus there are a lot of new fans who haven’t had to have a season end before, as well as old fans who will miss specific season nine dynamics. plus plus, we’ve been hanging with these projects and these teams and this server for TWO YEARS, of course we’re all very attached! it’s totally fair to not want it to end and I GET IT, I really do. I’ll goddamn miss that pinball machine I wanted to see the elytra course in it finished.

that said I am slightly more in your camp—I could tell it was time, most of the hermits have either wrapped up their projects or lost steam on them, and the amount of non-decked out 2 content from the server has been somewhat minimal. I think everyone could use the holiday break and then a chance to refresh for a new season!

while I’m sure the hermits could come up with new things to do for many more months—they’re the hermits they’re good at that—the energy on the server is very. it feels like it felt at the end of season seven, when people were ready to move on. (although I want to clarify: I don’t think recent hermitcraft has been bad! that said I love decked out, so that’s definitely part of why I personally have loved the last few months of hermitcraft, even though I was feeling that people were wrapping up.)

so yeah, I get you!

#answered #this isn’t an abrupt end like eight where it still feels like they’re going full-energy into everything #this is a ‘yeah okay this has been coming for a few months’ ending

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imtryingbuck · 7 months

Text

Affair

~ gif not mine credit to owner ~

Affair

Summary: Y/n founds out about her husband’s affair.

Word count: 1207

Warnings: Angst, Bucky is not good in this im sorry. Sad yet strong reader. Infidelity. Sharon and Steve. Little teeny tiny bit of body hate. Swear words.

A/n: there’s a line from my favourite song of Adeles.

Masterlist

Part 2

The day she found out her husband was having an affair it felt like time had stopped. Thousands of questions sworn inside her head, she didn’t blame her husband or the other woman nope she blamed herself. It was her fault her husband was unfaithful, it was her fault she had not been enough for him, it was her fault for not satisfying his needs. It was her fault.

After the self-blaming and self-hating she moved on to anger. Angry at her husband betraying her, angry at the other woman - a woman she had called a friend for 15 years - angry at herself, just unadulterated anger.

Then came the self-pity party, where all she did was cry and cry and cry. She would stand in front of the full body mirror just in her underwear, picking at every single detail on her skin hating what she saw in the reflection. Then she would cry even more due to the fact that after finally loving and being kind to her own body, she was back to hating it. However, she didn’t just feel sorry for herself, no, no she felt sorry for her husband, her children, her husband’s mistress and the husband of her husband’s mistress.

Oh and then there was denial - but that went straight out of her head pretty quickly, after all she did catch them going at it with her own two eyes.

And finally came acceptance. She accepted her husband’s extra marital affair, she accepted that she had been betrayed by two people close to her. Completely aware that her marriage was over and dead.

Her heart remained broken though, that would never change.

~~~

The sound of the door opening use to bring a smile on Y/ns face, sending her straight to the door awaiting him like a goddamn lapdog. Now though all it did was make her wonder which excuse she was going to be given.

Sitting on the sofa with her knees pulled up staring at the tv screen, chuckling quietly to herself as Peter Griffin continues his antics, wondering to herself why Lois puts up with him. Already smelling the mistress’s perfume on him makes her roll her eyes.

“Hey bab-“

“I filed for divorce.”

He actually has the audacity to act shocked “w-what do you mean? Bab-“

“Stop. Just stop. I know about your affair, I know you’ve been sleeping with Sharon for the past six months, probably longer I don’t know” mumbling the last part quietly “but all that matters is that I know so now we’re getting divorced.”

She sees him in her peripheral nervously shifting foot to foot, colour completely drained from his face, is that tears? Gross. Before he can even get a good enough excuse for his betrayal straight, she continues.

“Don’t say anything it’s not going to change my mind or decision. I spoke with my lawyer who thinks I’m being to kind - his words not mine - anyway I told him in don’t want money or the house from you. Custody will be split between us evenly” standing up wrapping her arms around herself “you know at first I wanted so many answers but now I just want to know one thing, do you think you can be honest for once? Do you actually think Sharon is going to want you know that I’m leaving you? Think you both can run off into the sunset and live happily ever after?” Using a baby like voice at the end she chuckles at his expression, she can’t tell if it’s heartbreak that she’s leaving him or heartbreak that his mistress isn’t going to want him anymore - laughable.

“The answer is no by the way. I feel bad though, you both deserve each other. Both so wrapped up in your own selflessness that you were happy to ruin two marriages, two families! To betray, lie and deceive your spouses who happen to be friends! All for what? Sex?” Stepping back when he tries to reach out “don’t fucking touch me! Don’t you dare try and touch me AFTER you’ve been with her! What the actual fuck is wrong with you? And don’t you dare stand there and cry! You did this, you both did. Oh and Steve knows” Literally as she said that his phone started ringing “Go ahead and answer it’s probably your best friend or your mistress, go ahead James and answer” at the sound of his first name he flinched, he pulled his phone out and sighed, declining the call he looked back at the woman who he had the privilege of calling his wife. The mother of his children, the woman who he has loved from the moment he was introduced to her. The woman who he cheated on.

“I’m sorry” is all he could say, he really didn’t remember how the affair started or why on earth he continued it, he has this perfect wife at home, his other half his soulmate and he cheated, he couldn’t even give her a good enough excuse. His guilt was hitting like a ton of bricks, he betrayed his wife and his best friend all for a quick fuck that wasn’t even good.

“You’re sorry? I’m sorry too. I’m sorry that when the morning comes, you’re going to have no one. I feel for you James honestly - stop swaying you’re making me feel seasick, sit down.” Watching him sit on the chair she moves to sit where she was originally sat before.

“Listen I just want to get this off my chest before I go to bed okay, I have loved you so deeply that I honestly don’t think I’d ever stop loving you but James I can’t forgive you, maybe one day in the future I will but not right now. I have been stood by your side through every single thing that has happened to you, and yet you betray me. I don’t know what went wrong with us but whatever I did I’m sorry-“ when he tries to intervene she puts her hand up “Just listen! I’m sorry that our story has ended this way but i can’t trust you anymore or even stand the sight of you if I’m being honest. You have given me something that I can't live without, you mustn't underestimate that when you are in doubt. But this is where our story ends.”

Wiping her tears with the sleeve of her jumper, she stands up stronger and taller than ever before.

“You can sleep on the sofa or head to Sharon’s I know Steve said he’d be staying with Sam and Nat. Tomorrow I’ll be taking the kids to our new house and then I guess we’ll go from there” Shrugging her shoulders as she doesn’t know what else to say to him. “Goodnight James, I truly hope you all the best”

Once in the comfort of her bedroom she listens to hear his movements but all she can hear are his cries. Smiling sadly, she climbs into the bed, she fears the unknowing of what her future holds whilst also excited for it.

For the first time since she found out about her husband’s affair she sleeps peacefully.

~ banners credit goes to @sweetpeapod ~

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eddiemunsons80sbaby · 25 days

Text

I Hate Myself for Loving You

Pairing: ReaderXEddieMunson

Request: i don't remember reading something like this before and i thought it might be nice. a smut where they suddenly start kissing rough during a big fight like in films/series? they might be fighting because of jealousy or something else and the fight is going really hard, (they don't hit each other) but maybe eddie is throwing things against the wall and breaking them and the reader is pushing him by the shoulders etc., with the intensity of the fight, something can be ignited and I thought it could be a really tough smut

Word Count: 3.3K

18+ Only

Smut, Rough sex, there is verbal fighting, name calling, and throwing of things but never violence at each other

“Are you fucking serious right now Eddie!?”

Your chest heaved, blood boiling in your veins, making you feel as if you were incinerating from the inside out. Was he really going to stand there and accuse you of this when he did it all the goddamn time, assuring you it meant nothing?

“I saw you, sweetheart! You were practically in his goddamn lap!”

“I was not! Jesus Christ! I was sitting on the stool next to him. We were just talking. I haven’t seen him since high school so he was asking what I’ve been up to.”

Eddie snorted, his eyes rolling up into his head. “Yeah. I’m so sure Billy Hargrove was real interested in a conversation and not your tits that were practically in his face, begging to be touched.”

The rage that was building within you had you trembling. It slithered like an ugly disease down your arm and into your hand. You grabbed the ashtray from the end table and chucked it at him. He ducked just in time as it smacked into the wall with force behind him.

“What the fuck!?” he yelled, those brown doe eyes now dark with fury. “What is wrong with you?”

“You! You’re what’s wrong with me! I sit there every fucking time you have a show and watch while girls hang all over you! You smile and laugh and tease them! You make them think they have a shot with you! You pose for pictures and sign their fucking tits! You sit there like a king on your fucking throne, soaking it all up, loving being the rock star that all the groupies want a shot with! And you’re always telling me it means nothing! I have to just accept it if I’m with you! But I have one goddamn conversation with a guy…”

“He’s not just a guy! He’s your fucking ex!”

“Yeah! He is! Ex being the word that matters here! I’m not with him. I’m with you! I chose you and I keep choosing you but you never fucking choose me!”

His mouth dropped open, sounds of disbelief and disgust spluttering from him. He folded his arms across his lean chest, rising up to full height, towering over you. You didn’t flinch. You weren’t scared of him. Eddie could be a jerk but he would never lay a hand on you.

“I choose you! I could have any of those fucking girls I want! They want to come home with me! They’ve heard I can show them one hell of a time and they practically beg me to show them! But I don’t because I have you!”

“Oh! Well so sorry you’re saddled with me! That can easily be fixed you know!”

“And just what the hell is that supposed to mean, princess?”

“You can leave anytime you want if this isn’t making you happy anymore! Yeah! You know what? Maybe you should! Then you can actually live out your sad small town rock star fantasy! You can bring a different whore home every night and show her what a good time you are.” You paused, tilting your head, hands on your hips. “But what fucking home will you bring her back to when you don’t have me to foot the bills so you can run off pretending you’re Tony Lommi?”

“We’re really going to do this again?”

“Do what again?”

“Bitch about me not pitching in enough around here! You knew what I was when you decided to be with me. You told me you were good with me working part time so I could focus on my music.”

“That was three fucking years ago! How long are you going to keep it up!?”

“You used to support me! You used to believe in me!”

Tears welled up in your eyes, only fueling your anger more, because you didn’t want to cry. You didn’t want to show any sign of weakness. You didn’t want him to see how much his words had hit their mark, like an arrow hitting the bullseye.

You had supported Eddie. You had supported him. You’d encouraged him to go for his dream but his dream was now killing both of you. You couldn’t take it. Night after night watching women throw themselves at him, watching him encourage it, eat it up, relish the attention. Working twelve hour shifts, dead on your feet, just to cover rent because Eddie couldn’t possibly take on more hours if he was going to get that new song finished.

“Yeah, I did, and you used to act like I mattered!” you spat.

“You matter!”

“Do I? It sure as hell doesn’t feel like it! When’s the last time you spent any time with me that wasn’t in the fucking bed, Eddie? That’s all I’m good for anymore! You don’t want to watch a movie or go down to the lake like we used to! I’m nothing but a toy you bring out when you need to quench your urges and then you put me back on a fucking shelf!”

“Bullshit! I invited you to band practice last week and you said no!”

“Oh! Thanks so much for wanting me to be there! We both know you just want an audience! You want someone to worship you and tell you how amazing your music is. I’m your girlfriend Eddie! I’m not some fucking groupie who’s just there to fawn over you and spread my legs!”

“No? Well, you sure acted like one tonight with Hargrove!”

“Fuck you! Get the fuck out!”

“This is my apartment too!”

“The fuck it is! You don’t pay for shit and my name’s on the lease!”

“You seriously want me to leave?” he growled.

“Yes! I want you gone! I’m done! I’m not doing this shit anymore!”

“Oh! Oh! I see what this is. You gonna call your roid rage boy toy once I’m gone? What sweetheart? You saw that mullet again and just couldn’t help yourself? You going back to him?”

You should say it but you couldn’t help yourself. Not after week after week of questioning if Eddie wasn’t just giving all those girls attention. Not after nights staring at the clock, wondering if he was off with one of those groupies, temptation too much for him to handle. Not after the way he’d just assumed you’d be willing to do the same. Staring him down, you challenged, “And so what if I am?”

His arm shot out and you shrieked, flinching, your hands coming to either side of your head as a shield. The crash of broken glass shocked you to your core as he grabbed the nearest thing to him, the lamp, and threw it with all the force he had against the wall.

You stared at him, silent, shocked as he glared down at you, chest heaving, each breath straining the fabric of the fitted shirt he’d started to wear ever since a groupie told him he should show off his body more.

“You want to go to him! You’re gonna leave me for that piece of shit!” he raged, flinging magazines from the end table one by one, nowhere in your direction, just satisfying thunks against the wall that punctuated each word he spoke. “You think he’s gonna be better to you than me!” His hand snatched the little elephant that he’d bought you from the zoo, the tiny figure cracking as it made contact with the wall next. “You’re just gonna walk away!”

“You asshole!” you screamed, fists pummeling against his chest, shoving him backward. His hands wrapped around your wrists, holding you in place, keeping you from reaching him.

“Stop it!” he yelled as you flailed like a feral animal to free yourself from his grip.

“I hate you!” you cried. “I fucking hate you!”

“Calm the fuck down!” he roared, pushing you back until he had you pinned against the wall, his weight pressing against you. “God, why do you have to be such a bitch!?”

“Probably because you’re such a dick!” you snap back, trying so hard to hold onto your anger but the awareness of his body, every inch of him now pressed against every inch of you, is making it harder to do.

He rolls his hips, his erection pressing against your center, smirking when you gasp at the contact, “Yeah, but you like that dick, don’t you?”

“Go to hell,” you grind out through gritted teeth and when he drops his head to find your lips, you snap at him, going for the bite. He just chuckles, keeping hold of your wrists, bringing them to either side of your head against the wall.

“You are such a pain in my ass.” He tries for the kiss and when you nip at him again, his lips latch onto your neck instead, sucking a bruise into your skin while he slots his thigh between yours.

“You are…”

But you never tell him what he is as he presses his thigh against your center, your traitorous hips rolling, seeking the friction he’s providing. His mouth moves over your neck, suckling the flesh in a semi-circular pattern until he reaches the other side. He’s marking you, a necklace for you to wear, to display that you’re taken, that you already belong to someone. Like a fucking dog in heat, he’s making sure that Billy Hargrove and any other unfortunate male who even glances your way knows you’re not available.

You want to fight him. You want to be the badass bitch who pushes him off and walks away, stands your ground, but it just feels so goddamn good. His mouth on your skin, firm muscle grinding against you just where you need it, fingers pressing into your pulse points as he keeps you captive against the wall.

“What was that, princess? I’m what?” he teases, fingers loosening their grip on your wrists, trailing over the sensitive flesh on the underside of your arms sending shivers racing up your spine. They brush over the outer curve of your breasts and your back arches, your body craving more, needing more but Eddie just steps back, holding his hands out in front of him. “There’s the door. If I’m such a dick, why don’t you head out right now and find your little boytoy?”

Your teeth grind together, that anger that you’d forgotten in the haze that was desire raging back, the two warring with each other, a battle that was about to lead to epic destruction.

“You bastard…” you mutter, shoving him backward, his body moving barely an inch. “I despise every fucking thing about you.”

One eyebrow lifts, taunting, his tongue slipping out of the corner of his mouth, tracing over his bottom lip. Your eyes watch, a clenching between your thighs as that backstabbing bitch aches for what she knows that tongue can do.

“I hate you…you’re…you’re…”

“Yes? I’m listening.” He cups his hand to his ear, egging you on, brown eyes dancing with amusement as how vexed he’s gotten you.

A roar of frustration rips from your throat, your hands slamming into his chest, sending him almost toppling over the coffee table. His arms flail for a second before he drops to his ass, hard, just managing to keep himself sitting. He barely has time to look up at you before you’re climbing onto his lap, your fingers sliding roughly into his hair, grabbing a fistful, painfully pulling his head back, relishing the way he winces.

“Fuck, princess. Careful with the hair.”

“Shut up,” you order, your tongue tracing down his neck, his wince quickly turning into a groan. You sink your teeth into the flesh between his neck and shoulder and he grunts, grabbing onto your hips, fingers digging into the flesh hard enough to bruise.

You rock against him, seeking the relief, the pressure building within you, winds of anger and lust meeting to create a tempest that was about to sweep you both away. Lips, teeth, and tongues clash in a war of biting, sucking, and scraping that has your thighs shaking, a coil tighter than you’ve ever felt before curling in your stomach, begging to spring free.

Eddie’s hands grab onto your top, tearing it in half, the sound of the threads coming apart satisfying. He makes quick work of your bra and then his mouth descends, marking your flesh until you’re sure there won’t be an inch of you that isn’t bruised. Your hands find their way up his shirt, nails raking along his back when he clamps his teeth over your nipple, tugging at the tender peak, a pain that sends a rush of pleasure straight to where you keep rocking against him.

“Fuck yes!” you cry, nails embedding into the skin of his shoulders, using him as leverage as you chase your own release against the bulge in his jeans.

His hand clamps around your throat, pushing you back, away from what you want right at the moment you’re about to get it. The rage is back, awakened again by the audacity of this man to keep your orgasm from you. Your back drapes over his legs as he makes fresh marks over your stomach, his other hand slipping up your skirt.

The soft Eddie, the one who glided calloused fingers over your trembling flesh, who teased you over top of your panties, who pressed tender kisses to your inner thighs, was nowhere to be found. Without warning, his thrust two of his thick fingers past the scrap of fabric and inside you, not giving one thought to if you were ready for him.

But you were. Holy shit, you were wetter than you’d ever been, inner thighs already sticky from the friction, the brutish way his mouth was marring your skin. You’d never been so turned on in your life and you didn’t know what that said about you and at this moment, with his fingers deep within your pussy, his heel grinding against your clit, his mouth suckling a fresh mark under your breast, you really didn’t care.

“Not thinking about leaving now, are you, princess?” His hand came down, making contact with the side of your breast with a smack, your whole body jolting.

You cried out, your hands dropping to the ground behind your head to keep you from spilling off his lap. Another finger pressed into you, stretching you, filling you and a sound you didn’t even recognize wrenched from your body as it clamped down around his fingers. His large palm grabbed your breast roughly, pulling at the overly sensitive skin, everything heightened in this moment, your entire body feeling like it flayed open, senses on max level.

“Fuck!” you growled, your whole body quaking as it neared release and his palm lifted, fingers slipping out, leaving you feeling empty.

“You don’t come until I tell you to.”

“What the fuck do you mean…”

But your words were cut off as he manhandled you, turning you over, your face pressed down into the carpet. Snatching off your underwear, he roughly palmed your thighs, spreading you wide until your entire front half was bent onto the floor.

You heard the slide of his zipper. “You want this dick, don’t you?” he purred, leaning forward, his voice just over your shoulder. “Come on, princess. You want this dick, you gotta ask nicely. Say please.”

“Go fuck yourself,” you spat, refusing to give him the satisfaction of hearing you beg.

“Hmm…okay then…”

“You think I want that after so many groupies have had a turn on it,” you challenged, daring him to say it. To tell you that yeah, he’d been cheating on you for months. Letting you believe it was all just about keeping the fans happy so they’d keep coming back. “You think it’s so special? You can fucking keep it. I can find just as good elsewhere.”

You moved to get up and his hand wrapped around the back of your neck, pushing you back down to the floor.

“Nobody’s had a fucking turn but you,” he growled. “I’m a lot of things, sweetheart but a liar ain’t one of them. You are so goddamn stubborn, you know that? Sometimes I wonder why I even put up with you.”

“Then don’t!”

“Oh, I wish it were that simple. I’m fucking in love you, you idiot! You’re a pain in my ass and you drive me up the fucking wall but I love you and you love me and you fucking know it.” He slapped your ass, leaving a sting that had your pussy dripping all over again. “Now be a good girl and ask for my cock politely.”

Fuck. You hated how right he was. You hated how much you wanted him. You hated how hopelessly in love with him you were. You wished you had the strength to just get up and walk away but you didn’t. A throb between your thighs reminded you how much you needed this. Your body was going to make the decision for you.

“Fuck me, Eddie,” you snarled.

“I’m sorry. What’s the magic word?”

“I hate you…I hate you so fucking much…”

“Nope. Sorry but that’s not it.”

“Please!” you screamed. “Please fuck me into this goddamn floor and let me come already!”

“That’s my good girl.”

His hips slammed forward, colliding against your own as he buried himself to the hilt within you. You groaned gutturally, your body a discrepancy of both relief and tension. He thrust into you at a brutal pace, your skin smacking together, loudly filling the small space. You had a fleeting thought about what the neighbors were hearing but it quickly dissipated as the only thing you could focus on was Eddie, stretching you, filling you, finally giving you what you needed.

His hand wrapped around your throat, pulling you off the floor, pressing your back to his chest. Continuing to fill you, he gripped your neck, his other hand sliding over your stomach and in between your thighs. When he applied pressure to your clit, you keened, arching back against him.

“This pussy is mine. You’re mine.” His teeth bit down into your shoulder. “You’re the only one that’s mine. You’re the only one I want. Do you understand that?”

You couldn’t answer. Your eyes rolled toward the heavens, muscles trembling violently. You had zero control. His grip around your throat tightened, a wheeze rising from your lungs as you attempted to suck in air that you couldn’t find.

“I said, do you understand that?”

He slowly eased up pressure and you rasped out, “Yes. Yes. Yes…”

The word continued to fall from your lips, a mantra as the pressure that had been building within you finally reached its boiling point. You were standing at the precipice, looking at the drop…it was so damn close you could taste it.

“Come for me now,” ordered Eddie.

The band snapped, an explosion of sweltering heat racing along your skin, as your orgasm violently took over your body. Eddie kept his hand around your neck, not ceasing his unmerciful pounding, his flesh meeting yours with a ferocious collision every single time. His grip tightened as an animalistic roar assaulted your ears.

Sweat slicked flesh slid against each other as the two of you collapsed into a heap on the floor. You lay next to him, panting, struggling to understand what the hell had just happened. How had you gone from being ready to kick him out to having the hottest sex of your life?

“I mean it. You’re the only one. I’ve never kissed or touched any of those girls. I’ve never even considered it,” he gasped. “Have you? Were you…considering Billy?”

“No…not really,” you managed, still unable to fully catch your breath.

“You love me?”

Your head turned, looking over at this idiot that somehow had such a hold on you. You couldn’t explain it but you also couldn’t deny it. Rolling your eyes, you shook your head.

“Yeah. I do. I love you even if you are a dick.”

“Good because I love you too, you pain in the ass.”

#eddie munson #stranger things eddie #eddie the banished #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x femreader #eddie the freak munson #rough #rough smut #smut #request #smut requests #eddie munson stranger things #jealousy #toxic relationship #rough stuff

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ellabsweet · 9 months

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[ੈ✩] 𝐅𝐄𝐓𝐂𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐎𝐋𝐓 𝐂𝐔𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 • 𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐁𝐒

synopsis: in which you’re fooled.

pairing: rockstar!ellie x reader x rockstar!abby

warning: mentions of cheating and drug usage but i believe that is all ! let me know in case there’s anything i just wanted to put this out already because of the traction this is getting which is making me sososo happy thank you everyone i love you <3

authors note: ——

← previous part | next part →

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐎: 𝐑.𝐈.𝐏 𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐘 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐇

approximately two years earlier…

“Who’s the pretty girl?” Ellie asks after snorting a line of powder from the small bathroom’s sink, a banging to the door from an urgent adult being dismissed by her and the dealer.

“You’re gonna have to be more specific than that”

“Oh c’mon you know the one. Sad eyes girl who watched the whole show from her seat at the bar like we were a band worth shit, like we’re going to be someday”

“They call her bunny around here. ‘Cause you know, a cute shell for a sex addict, y’know some misogynistic shit. She’s a regular to all The Deadbeats show on this shitty bar, you only want to fuck her now? Get on some fan service?”

“You’re fucking gross, man. I just digged her vibe, is all”

What Ellie meant by that was, she saw her soul reflected in your eyes and it scared her shitless but not enough to go untouched by the exchange, drowning in curiosity and magnetism the drugs made sure to intensify your face in her mind as though a printed sticker inside her brain. What Ellie meant was, she thought God was a girl with sad eyes and skimpy top watching her band in the corner of a loud bar piercing right through her like a Heaven and Hell collision midst a guitar riff.

Daniel took one last sniff of cocaine before he slammed the door open, the yell in his throat setting off a headache in Ellie: “Bunny! Come meet your rockstar!”

“I like your songs-“

“We’re gonna get married” You errupt in laughter with that, the sad eyes Ellie had attatched to the memory of you suddenly disappearing in bright amusement, she felt as though she could use your happiness as a new kind of high “I’m not joking, I would carry you in my arms straight into a chapel right now”

“Does that line usually work with the girls you go for?”

“I don’t know, you’re the first I tried it on. Is it endearing enough to convince you to elope?”

“You know every single person in this goddamn bar wants to get in your pants after that guitar riff, right?”

“I’m gonna be fully honest with you right now. I’m fucked out of my goddamn mind today, if I stare at you too long from the mix I took you’re gonna start having two heads and still I might dig it. But God, even then you look so fucking sad”

“Jesus” you scoff “alright junkie well I’m gonna go now-“

“You look so fucking sad and I see you. It’s like I’m seeing an angel cry, like I’m watching God in a party outfit wandering around and listening to my band, like a little bunny eyed daydream fucking painting on a museum wall that makes critics bawl into tears listen, shit, what I’m saying is you’re a fucking tsunami and I feel like I’m flooding and we haven’t even kissed and you don’t even seem to like me all that much right now but when I was up there?” Ellie pointed at the stage “You felt it too. My lyrics. You felt my stuff I know you did, like some soulmate shit like you feel my pain too like we’re both just trying too damn hard. I’m not insane yet, you’re something let me be something to you, I think I can be”

You didn’t answer her. You just kissed. Crashed your lips into her like you were coming up for air because something in your booze made something about her nonsense make sense. You thought you saw her in a dream when she first went up on stage, thought her to be one of those blurry faces in good nights of sleep that passed right through you, familiar in a mystical sense, in the stupidest way. Her lips on yours tasted of pure alcohol and it made you dizzy, weak in the knees. She knew her way around your body, waist and neck like a map engraved itself to the palm of her hands and you melted straight to them.

For two months you believed she was right that day, onto something. Talked about grief and music and love and death and space and leace and thought you knew her forever. Then The Deadbeats got more traction, moved to the spotlight. Then you caught her fucking a fan in the studio.

“All of Ellie’s girls think they’re special”

“Listen Abigail I don’t want to fucking hear it so you can fuck right off” You grabbed your bag, tears prickling in your eyes as you did so before the blonde grabbed hold of your shoulder, instinctively having you look back at her, perhaps the first time you truly looked at her all this time.

“But you really are.”

taglist: @abbysvictim @lottiematthewsceo @sadeyedsugar @digit4lslut @r0ckgoblin @machetegirl109 @scatapple @elliesgirlll @madelynie @emothurman @p1llowthoughtss @scottstre3ted @thatonementallyillsimp @rockyroad-is-bomb @spaceshipellie @toesorhoes @callmewhenyoukan comment to be added!

#ellie williams x reader #abby anderson x reader #the last of us fanfiction #lesbian #ellabs x reader #ellie williams #abby anderson #ellie williams fanfic #abby anderson fanfic

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lynlmao · 7 months

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kisses, hugs & cuddles 🫂

cc!Quackity x f!Reader hcs [SFW/FLUFF]

a/n: NOT PROOFREAD, this is kinda just to dump my thoughts sooo,, enjoy ? also this is my first post in a long time, so sorry if it seems cluttered or unrealistic💀

KISSES

He puts chapstick on so his lips are soft

His kisses are either very affectionate, very sloppy, or both and I feel like when he’s really happy or excited or something like that(?) he kisses u multiple times/peppers kisses on ur face.

He’d be like “Omg cmere..*MUWWHAAAH PHMUAH MWUAHMWAMWAMWA*” like u can hear a pucker noise if that makes sense🤗 .

Sometimes u gotta push his face away from yours bcs you might be late or something and he’d just look at you with a pout on his face :(

(I personally would rather take the kisses and be late)

When u kiss him he’s like “😍☺️😏😚” yk?

I feel like if u wear lip balms/glosses then he would have a fav…sometimes he kisses u when u have lip gloss/balm to taste it and then he’d be like

“Babe…..can u wear that lip gloss/balm u we’re wearing last time”

Lets u kiss his face, neck, and/or hands with lipstick on and then posts it on his ig story with the caption “these are better than hickeys”

He’d still be into hickeys but I feel like he would want them to be in areas he could cover up.

Making out with him‼️

Again, it’s either romantic, or you guys just look like horny teenagers💀.

Ok, a lil off topic but I remember his qsmp elections stream with that mannequin at the start….And how he was gripping its hair😍

Anyways he definitely holds u by the hair or by the neck while making out. No questions asked.

Sometimes he’d be like: “Your *kiss* so *kiss* goddamn *kiss* PRETTY. *MUWAHH*”

Basically kisses for days.

Also pls kiss him back or you’ll make the poor boy go crazy.

HUGS/CUDDLES

His hugs are so sweet and I noticed that when he hugs ppl he does that light back rub thing☹️💗

when ur cooking something he sneaks up behind u and snuggles you (and maybe try and tickle u if he’s feeling like silly😭)

his hugs are super warm and comforting, especially when ur sad, I swear one big hug from him can literally make u go from 😭 to 🥲☺️

When u and him cuddle he’s a switch but I feel like you would probably be the big spoon cus he wants to lay his head on or in between ur boobs.

He finds it comforting the way you wrap your arms around him tightly, but not enough to suffocate him. The soft “badump” sound of your heart beat, your soft breathing, and the smell of your perfume.

At some point he just starts to get drowsier and falls asleep.

His head against ur chest + you running ur hand through his hair = literally heaven for him.

When he’s a big spoon, it’s probably in the morning when you’re about to get out of bed and get ready…Until you swiftly get pulled back into the comfy bed and all you hear is “no.”.

After a few failed attempts of escaping him, you finally give in but only for a few more minutes.

Sometimes when he’s the big spoon he likes when your both somewhat facing each other because he enjoys looking down on you, he thinks the way you look when u look up at him is adorable😭

idk how to explain it but it’s like taking a photo at an angle that makes ur eyes a little bit bigger and u just look cute like that🤷🏻‍♀️.

But if he ends up streaming and your already sleeping then hes the big spoon. Carefully pulling you closer to him with his hand on ur stomach while nuzzling his face into your hair, enjoying the scent of your shampoo.

Speaking of scent and cuddling he would also know when your using a new perfume🤗.

So basically this is what I imagine happening when he smells your new perfume:

*smelling u a lil* *Ooo are you using a different perfume?…what is this one called??

“[insert perfume name or whateva], why?”

“*literally full on inhaling all the perfume particles*…nothing.”

“…I know you have something to sa—“

“Can u PLEASE wear it more often? :33”

..…He would buy you an extra or two of the perfume u we’re using the next day.

On some special occasions, he’d let you straddle his lap and cuddle him while he’s working but sometimes he won’t if he’s extremely busy that day.

He also knows after a few kisses, it’s almost always gonna turn into a make out session☺️ (Or smth else..iykyk ig)

#QSMP quackity #quackity x reader #quackity headcannons #quackity blurb #qsmp #quackity imagine #quackity fanfic

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wen-kexing-apologist · 7 months

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Fight Night

ALRIGHT! Life is wilder and crazier than normal and I have finally had a singular moment to breathe so it is time to do my first scene breakdown of Only Friends. Jojo and co have been feeding me so well, a literal feast of good sex choreo, hand placements, and puppy dog eyes that it has been impossible for me to figure out where I want to start. But the end of episode five was just so expertly executed I couldn’t not talk about it, the build up, the explosion, the cool down?! Zero people in this production came to play, they showed up on set day one, gave some of their best performances, and just went about their goddamn day. [insert thirty more minutes of showered praise here].

So let’s get in to it:

The Calm Before the Storm

We’re going to start with Sand and Ray before shit goes downhill, at a moment of genuine connection. This is not the first time we have seen them connect. The first of their peaceful, friendlier interactions are paid for by Ray but Sand quickly moves towards free hang outs with Ray after he gets to know Ray a bit better. I think we can all agree that 95% of the time that Sand and Ray are spending with each other, Ray is asking to be serviced (either seeking out sex, or being fed, clothed, or protected by Sand) [and I do think it is pretty telling that Ray’s idea of friendship is being taken care of in every way, and that Sand fully calls that out as being the role of a father]. But the 5% they do have of these moments of getting to know each other, primarily center around their own family dynamics, but in Episode 5, Ray does start dipping his toes in to getting to know more about Sand’s own hopes and dreams.

Where before Ray wasn’t really interested in Sand’s backstory as much as Sand was interested in Ray’s, now on the balcony of Sand’s dingy apartment, Ray finally starts to ask Sand about himself. And Ray is locked in, just absolutely attentive to Sand as he is talking, rarely looking away, asking follow up questions, and making statements based off of what Sand is saying. Things seem to be flowing smoothly, Ray seems slightly sad that Sand doesn’t know his father, he has an actual smile on his face with he tells Sand that he thinks his mother is really cool, and that he respects her. And of course he would respect the relationship that Sand and his mother have, the obvious love they have for one another, because he never got that from his own family.

Sand has asked about Ray’s family before now (they talked about Ray’s mother in Ep. 2) but when they were first starting to get to know eachother, Ray brushed off any further conversation around his mother’s death. But that willingness to be honest with Sand is beginning to shift. Ray sits there listening to a birth story that runs parallel to his own, a mother with an unexpected pregnancy after a hookup, a father that wasn’t really intending on having a child, and Ray is faced with what his life could have possibly looked like if his mother was a different person.

And they’ve been hanging out all day, Ray has seen much more of Sand’s personal life, his family life, it’s Sand’s birthday, they are cross faded, and Sand asks Ray once again what happened to his mother, and Ray takes the opportunity to be honest. He watches Sand refill his glass, and he says “she drank herself to death”.

Now, personally, this is a very important moment to me in terms of both understanding Ray better as a character, and getting Sand and Ray to connect to each other more. A really important thing to remember about substance use disorders is that they are aware of the health consequences of long term substance use. Ray knows his mother drank herself to death, Ray knows that alcohol in the quantities that he is consuming are dangerous, and he cannot stop drinking. Ray does not have any good coping mechanisms for when his life gets hard, (and we will see a much stronger example of that near the end of this scene), but in the build up to the blow out, we are taking some time to re-establish that Ray has a drinking problem. And we are gaining a bit of further insight in to the genetic history of Ray’s own mental health problems.

I’d have to go back and rewatch all the episodes to be completely certain, but I think so far the only person we haven’t see call Ray a burden is Mew, Mew who knows that Ray tried to kill himself two years ago, Mew who remembers that Ray said if he was gone he wouldn’t be a burden anymore on his goodbye phone call. I mention his mostly because, if that is true, then that is an indication to me that Ray’s other friends don’t really know that much about him. They don’t know how deeply the idea that he is a burden to everyone around him is rooted in to his psyche. They probably don’t know anything about Ray’s relationship to his mother, after all, she died when he was still in high school.

We know from the end of Episode 4, that Ray has shifted his interests from Mew to Sand. That is not to say that he is not still in love with Mew, or that he wouldn��t drop Sand as soon as possible if presented the opportunity to date Mew, at least from my perception. But what it does indicate to me, is that Ray is beginning to at least consider Sand someone that care about him, that will listen to him, that will be an emergency contact, and as such Ray is more willing to be upfront and honest about who he is as a person. How his mind works, what his place in his own family is, what his own connection to family is.

Ray senses he is bringing the mood down, and makes a comment to change the subject, shutting down any potential deeper conversation or exposure to pity that he could have with Sand. We know Sand has been down bad for Ray since like…Dick Down 1, but he is really just embarrassingly obvious with his interest in Ray. The way his face goes slack jawed when he looks at Ray’s face for a second too long? Your cool guy persona is in the fucking gutter. ANYWAY, the point of this is that Sand and Ray are vibing, having a good time, connecting, Ray is opening up more, and Sand is falling deeper in to this infatuation at the first sign of Sad Boi Hours when we cut to Nick and Boston.

Boston, who has had a genuinely peaceful day thus far. He got some work done for school, he and Nick clarified their relationship to one another, he made out in the pool, and he’s looking to reward Nick for changing by asking if he can stay over. We know that Boston has been blackmailed by someone, we know that as a result of that Boston has decided to “settle down” a bit as it were, spend more time with people who he can talk with afterwards. (If you ask me, this isn’t really what Boston wants, it’s just how he is trying to justify laying low with Nick, someone he thinks he has control over and someone I don’t think Boston suspects is capable of blackmail).

It is Boston who suggests staying over (I am not going to dig too much further in to his choice to ask Nick, but I will just look respectfully towards the thought that he doesn’t want to be found).

Anyway, Boston asks if he can stay over, and Nick smiles like he’s won something, and leads Boston inside, where they both promptly interrupt Sand and Ray. Boston’s face lights up when he sees Ray there, but not in any way that indicates that Boston is actually excited to see his friend. More so, that he has gotten +1 Information in his notes on Ray’s comings and goings.

Boston sees Sand and Ray, and he is scheming already. The very first fact we learn about Boston in Only Friends is that he is The Hunter, and while we have primarily seen this in the way that he hunts-for-that-d, Boston is a hunter through and through, he doesn’t just aim and fire, he plays with his prey. He toys with Top and Nick’s emotions to try to manipulate them in to what he wants, and he sees Ray and Sand together here, and the douchebag gears begin to turn.

But, Boston needs to know what these two are to each other first, so he can figure out his best approach to fucking with the two of them, so he asks:

“What’s with you and Sand?”

“What? We’re just friends,” Ray says with a smile and a small laugh, like he is trying to brush off any attempt for Boston to think of Sand and him as anything more. Sand is of course, devastated (and it is at this point I would like to make a tangential remark about the brilliance of the cinematography in this entire scene because it frequently moves between blurry and clear, like the camera is having as difficult of a time focusing on any of the characters as the characters themselves are, since they are under the influence).

Nick, having already interrupted the SandRay foreplay once today, tries to pull Boston along quickly, to give everyone in the apartment some motherfucking privacy, but no no, when it comes to every other person in the world besides himself, Boston does not do privacy. So he cockblocks himself and SandRay and suggests they all party instead.

The Build Up

There is this moment of awkward tension, that Nick tries to break by saying that Boston is bothering Sand and Ray, but Sand, having just been reminded that Ray does not think of him as anything more than friends, agrees to all hang out together, thus shifting the mood between himself and Ray from sexual to casual.

And Boston?

Oh Boston has already won.

Now, before I get further in to breaking down this episode, I just need to take a minute and just give a huge MASSIVE shout out to Neo motherfucking Trai. He has absolutely been destroying this role, he is clearly having such a good fucking time. But I don’t care about that part (I do but it’s not the relevant aspect here), I care about how much of Boston’s character, Boston’s internal monologue Neo reveals through Boston’s eyes.

Boston has been watching how Ray and Sand interact with one another, he saw them make out, he saw Ray grab a cookie from Sand’s mouth with his own, and now, he is sitting here, with Nick pressed up against his chest watching Ray flirt with and cling to Sand. That boy has mischief in his eyes, that boy is a hunter and he smells fresh meat. Boston is The Drama, and while he’s in the middle of his own blackmail saga, he’s found new toys to pass the time until the dust settles.

This is the face of a man who will cause problems on purpose. This is the face of a man who does not give two shits about upsetting the people in front of him. Boston is a miserable, manipulative piece of shit, and he will drag everyone down to his level.

I am showering praise in Neo’s general direction, anyway, Boston is studying Ray and Sand’s interactions, the way they talk with one another, all the little things that point towards there being some genuine feelings.

“The cookie’s getting to me”

“I told you to hold back”

“Well, it’s a good thing I’m not driving”

“Can I stay over?”

“More often than this I’m going to start making you pay rent”

“Go ahead”

They aren’t talking like this is a one time thing, they aren’t talking like they are just fuck buddies. The way that Ray and Sand are slightly bickering/scolding each other, the way that Ray just so absentmindedly reaches to put his arm around Sand, it reads a very particular way. Especially when you add on the fact that Nick interrupted them in the kitchen that morning.

Now, something happens here that could have been good. If Boston was a good person, if Boston actually cared about his friends, if Boston wasn’t such a fucking Masshole. Because Sand has been very obviously dopey and doe eyed for Ray for ages and the lines between lust and love have been blurring heavily for him. But when they started fucking, Ray and Sand both discussed and established the nature of their relationship. Only friends. No love, only sex. Friendship can come from sex. Sand wouldn’t take someone like Ray as his boyfriend (liar). But things have changed since their first hook up, at least for Sand. Sand is catching feelings and Sand has not talked with Ray about how his feelings are shifting.

And Nick actually opens up the potential for Sand and Ray to have that conversation when he asks “Are you and Ray going out?”

See, Nick is definitely nasty4nasty when it comes to his desire to be with Boston, and Nick is by no means whatsoever a pure person, the man bugged Boston’s car and kept the recording for fuck’s sake, but he is also not an asshole the way that Boston is an asshole. Nick isn’t asking Sand if he and Ray are going out because he wants to fuck with them, he’s asking because he is genuinely curious, because this ain’t the first time that he’s walked in on them.

But don’t pay attention to Mark Pakin’s body language here, because Nick is obviously drunk, relaxed, content, and curious. Look at Neo. Look at Boston. Look at the way Boston is looking at Nick when Nick asks if they are going out:

And look at the way Boston turns his gaze upon Sand and Ray the second Nick finishes asking the question. Boston is picking apart every action, every expression, every movement between Sand and Ray. Boston is calculating. This is not a dude that is just turning to look at the next speaker in a conversation. He’s staring deep into their souls to figure out how they actually feel about each other so he can decide if one or both of them cares enough about each other to be hurt by him.

So naturally, the next shot we get is Ray drunkenly cozying up to Sand, resting his head on Sand’s shoulder, in a way that feels very couple-y, in a way that feels different to the casual arm Boston throws over Nick like he’s got his prize on a leash.

“You two talk all lovey-dovey like you are a thing, you know?”

Consider the fact that the second that Nick starts saying “you two talk all lovey-dovey, you know?” Ray peels himself off Sand’s shoulder and stares at Nick. And he’s smiling casually, like he finds the question funny, though he doesn’t fully break physical contact with Sand, still resting his arm across Sand’s shoulders.

Sand is taken aback for a second, like he’s been caught, but he knows that he is not supposed to be falling for Ray. He knows he isn’t supposed to be wanting a relationship with Ray. He knows that this is not the time or space for a “what are we?” conversation, so he puts on a smile and squeezes Ray’s cheeks and says:

“Look at his face. Look how squishy he looks. He looks just like a dog my mother has.” (Which we can interpret as Sand saying look at him, we cuddle cause he’s cute, I think of him like a pet). Associating Ray with his mother’s dog for me, feels like a way for Sand to try to get Boston off his back, to put his feelings in alignment with how Boston typically views his hook ups, as pets, as toys, as prey. But Sand’s face betrays him more than Boston’s ever could the very second that Ray says “I’m not a dog and I’m not his boyfriend”

Sand has a moment of quiet devastation hearing that, even though he SHOULD KNOW BETTER. He should not be so upset about an objectively true statement. Sand may think of Ray as special, and may want to date Ray, and may want Ray to be his boyfriend, but they have never revisited their initial conversation about the nature of their relationship. As far as Ray knows, Sand would never take someone like him to be his boyfriend. Sand is just getting caught up in his feelings and this brief reprieve from the hard and labrous and exhausting life he leads is clouding his judgment.

And Boston goes in for the kill

“Ray, I bet Sand likes you. I can tell.”

And here is the question of the hour, a question I personally do not believe we have the full answer to, why the fuck is Boston targeting Sand? (beyond the fact he finds it fun). Boston and Sand clearly know each other, Boston knows Sand well enough to know that the weed he is smoking is not his typical supply. Boston came in to Sand’s home, smoked Sand’s weed, and then went straight for Sand’s throat.

And Sand is a little mad and more than a little anxious. The way First plays the emotions in this moment is brilliant, you can see all these little moments of Sand feeling put on the spot, the way his mouth moves like he is trying (and failing) to maintain his composure. Like he is looking for an escape route, but can’t find one. Especially because Boston will not let him escape, explicitly calling Sand in to the conversation:

The Blow Up

“So what is it, Sand? Do you like him? My buddy here has both the looks and the dough. His type is hard to come by, you know?”

Sand tries to dodge, by putting on his logical person hat for the first time in what is most likely weeks. “Now that you said that” he starts with Ray literally moving his hand to brush it gently against Sand’s shoulders. “My answer has to be yes now, doesn’t it? But if you really want to know the answer, ask me again when I am sober”

Sand is willing to let Boston win this, to concede here, to admit to liking Ray as if forced to agree expressly because Boston is poking at him about it. But he will not engage in an important conversation like the one Boston is setting up for him and Ray about what they are to each other when they are under the influence and when they are in public.

Nick is like “alright”, but that is not enough for Boston. (SERIOUSLY LOOK AT NEO, LOOK AT HOW MUCH FUCKING DISATISFACTION IS BEHIND THOSE GODDAMN EYES! Jojo and Ninew fucking thank you for giving me Neo in this role, he’s been craving complex roles since his time on The Eclipse and I’m glad he’s getting to have some).

Boston is watching, waiting, wanting to see how Ray reacts to Boston speaking for Sand. Unfortunately for everyone, but Boston especially, Ray does not have the reaction I think Boston is expecting. Instead of Ray getting uncomfortable, instead of Ray pushing himself away from Sand, instead of Ray doubling down on him and Sand not being boyfriends, instead of Ray reacting negatively to the idea that this “not his type” poor boy might actually like him he leans in close, he smiles wide, he teases Sand a little in a way that does not feel cruel.

So Boston has to escalate. Boston has been stalking his prey in the grass for as long as he has been in this apartment, and now it is time to strike.

“Even if you really do like Ray, I doubt it will work out between the two of you. Ray’s whole ass is owned by Mew”

BOOM. Instant kill. Boston just made this entire encounter go from 0 to 100. Especially because (as far as we know), he has no goddamn idea about the dent in Ray’s relationship to Mew, and his realization about how Ray and Mew’s feelings are never going to align.

Ray did not spend all that time sitting in the bathtub staring at a keychain and a Poor Boy shirt for nothing. Personally, I am uncertain where Ray stands with Sand, I think Ray is probably chasing the endorphins of a good and easy lay. I think he is drawn to Sand’s inherent need to act as a caretaker. But as I’ve said before, Ray uses Sand far more as a service provider than he does a person he wants to make genuine connections with, only recently has he started to open up more and seem more interested in Sand as a person.

But Boston is poking at an extremely sore spot. A spot I don’t think Boston considers as a nuclear option, because I don’t know that Boston is aware that Ray tried to kill himself. I don’t think Boston knows that Mew came and saved his life. I don’t think Boston is truly aware of just how deeply important to Ray Mew is because he seems to be one of the first people to make Ray feel less alone.

Immediate anger. Boston has struck a nerve, gotten a bullseye. If he actually cared at all for his “friends” and their feelings he could have stopped there. Boston is a voyeur, a photographer, all he does all the time is watch, record, manipulate bodies. He can read people well, but he is cocky and overconfident about his own understanding of the situations that have occurred between people in his social circle. If Boston cared, he would see that Ray just turned on a dime, that the loose, casual, fuzzy, flirty person that was just wrapped around Sand has turned in to a tense, focused ball of rage. ““What the hell are you saying, Ton?”

“What? Sand doesn’t know you’ve been in love with your best friend for years? But Mew is with Top now. Someone beat you to it, man.”

So…my Dad has this habit of saying shitty things, and over the years we have made safewords with him to tell him when he is approaching saying something out of pocket and he should change the subject (“pothole”), and for when he has said something out of pocket and should probably stop talking immediately (“sinkhole”). My father consistently blows right through “sinkhole” and continues to dig his hole deeper. Boston reminds me of my father.

Pothole: “Ray’s whole ass is owned by Mew”

Pothole: “Mew is with Top now. Someone beat you to it, man”

I honestly don’t feel like I need to use too much space here on Sand’s reaction, because I read a really good post by @bird-inacage about how this revelation hits Sand hard because he may feel stripped of his dignity and see himself as a fool.

“What a shame for my pal”

Shout out to Jojo and co for this shot of Nick. Nick who looks horrified. Nick, who I don’t think has seen this behavior of Boston’s up close. I mean, he knows that Boston has something on Ray and Mew, he didn’t really seem to care at that point. But Nick doesn’t really know Mew, Nick only cares about Top insofar as he is competition for Boston’s attention, he’s not really friends with Ray. But he is friends with Sand. And the implications from the beginning of the episode that Ray has stayed over and hung out with Sand all day multiple times, feels like Nick is at least starting to develop some modicum of care/friendship with Ray. And Nick is sitting there, watching Boston be cruel. Cruel to people that Nick actually cares about. Cruel to people that Nick doesn’t think deserve it, and the wheels are turning, so there isn’t much more he can do about it.

“Oh wait. My bad. I remember you and Mew making out. Did you take his virginity?” (Sinkhole. Boston should probably shut his goddamn little whore mouth at this point)

“Ton, what the shit are you going on about?” Ray asks, shooting up from the ground and in to a standing position [and lord almighty is Khaotung just a powerhouse actor between the way he is able to physically embody Ray’s anger, and just look and act drunk all the time). This has turned in to a fight, Boston has riled Ray up, Boston has already punished both Ray and Sand at this point. But he has to make everyone around him as miserable as humanly possible in as little time as he can, so:

“Oh? I saw everything. I took some photos, actually.” (SINKHOLE. No seriously dude you need to shut the fuck up right now).

“What the hell did you do that for, bastard?” Ray is shifting his weight, Khaotung’s breathing has changed. You can fucking tell Ray’s heart is racing, that a blind rage is seeping in to his bones. Ray is livid.

“What? I just want to keep track of my best friends’ romantic moments. Was I wrong?”

(Spoiler alert to those reading this post for the body language breakdown: Boston does not actually give a single flying fuck if he is wrong)

“Keep track?”

And finally someone punches Boston straight in the mouth! And even still! EVEN STILL Boston cannot shut the fuck up. Boston is righteous in the worst possible way. Boston is hurting everyone around him for the sake of “honesty”, “clarity”, “visibility” in a way that Boston himself in his own life actively avoids. With Nick he keeps their relationship status unclear, with Nick he refuses to get photographed, with Nick he hides the fact that he hooked up with Top. But Boston will air everyone else’s dirty laundry, Boston will record and photograph everyone else’s private moments, Boston will give facts as best as he knows them when literally anyone else is involved:

“Sand has every right to know. Ray is in love with Mew. They even screwed! But good thing you came along, Sand. He needs to get over Mew”

“What does it have to do with you?” Ray is still fucking pissed, and this is a really important and relevant question to ask. Boston has no place in Ray and Mew’s private business. Boston has no right to record them without their permission. Boston has no right to have this conversation about Ray’s feelings with Sand. And Boston does not answer this question. He will not answer this question, because for Boston everyone else’s business is his, and his business is no one’s.

Now, do I think Boston is lying about Ray and Mew having sex? No. I think there are actually a number of layers to that statement. I think we are either a) setting up to have a killer conversation about people’s perceptions of sex/people’s perceptions of what counts as sex or b) that Boston fully thinks he saw Ray and Mew do something sexual when they actually didn’t [think Ray throwing up while doubling over Mew so it looks like he’s giving head]. And it is worth noting that Ray doesn’t deny the statement, although this doesn’t necessarily mean anything because there are lots of words and fists and vitriol being thrown around at this point, confirming or denying any sexual relationship with Mew is not really going to do anything to calm this situation.

“If you’re not in love with him anymore, then why did you get so mad?” Boston asks, and I love that this is phrased as a gotcha! moment. Boston thinks asking why someone got mad enough to punch him in the face after he said he was keeping track of his friends' romantic lives by holding on to pictures he had taken of them in secret is definitive proof that he is correct. Ray got real mad about Boston’s doucheness, and that must mean that Ray is love with Mew.

And he isn’t totally wrong. We know that Ray is in love with Mew, we know part of why Ray is in love with Mew. We know that Sand is now filling a similar role in Ray’s life as the only person who is willing to take care of him. But this question for me highlights a huge aspect of Boston’s character that I do not think we appreciate enough.

Boston does not know everything, and he acts like he does.

Ray is getting so mad at Boston because what Boston is saying is true AND Ray is getting so mad at Boston because Ray almost compromised his relationship with Mew by kissing him when he was sleeping. Ray is in a weird place right now in relation to how he sees Mew and how Mew sees him. At the moment, Mew is patient, kind, and forgiving, and willing to maintain their friendship and accept Ray’s apology as long as Ray can get it through his head that Mew is never going to see him as a potential romantic partner. If Ray cannot do that, Ray loses a very important person in his life. (And we see Mew punch Ray in the promo for next week, my hunch is that Nick tells Ray about Boston and Top and Ray tries to warn Mew about Top and Mew takes that as Ray lying to break them up, but that’s beside the point).

Boston may be correct that Ray is in love with Mew, but Boston has no idea what the fuck he is talking about when it comes to Ray’s current relationship to Mew. Boston does not know that Mew and Ray are in a rocky relationship right now because of Ray’s feelings. Boston thinks that he is right that Ray is in love with Mew because Ray gets so mad so quick, because he does not understand that a huge part of what is riling Ray up is that Boston is poking at a deep injury he thinks is just a flesh wound.

And still after Boston has gotten a fist to his face, and swung back; even after he has shoved Nick out of the way so hard Nick fell on to the couch; even after they had blown off some steam and were de-escalating to the point of screaming at each other rather than beating eachother up. Boston

Still

Can

NOT

Quit

“Oh, are you going to be two-timing?”

Boston is literally just…going in to a house that is not his and lobbing grenades all over the place cause he’s fucking bored. Cause he sets Ray off again, leaving Sand, screaming at Boston and Ray to stop fighting (IN HIS OWN FUCKING HOUSE, AFTER SHARING HIS OWN FUCKING WEED).

Boston listens to Sand, Boston walks away, Boston goes to Nick’s room. But the look in his eye?

He is not done with this. Boston is not surprised that Ray got mad, Boston was reveling in Ray’s reaction, but I think Ray’s rage went beyond what Boston had anticipated, and this feels to me like an act of war.

The Cool Down

Boston and Nick remove themselves from the scene and Ray and all his infinitely perfected coping skills rushes to chug as much alcohol as he can.

Again, thank you to Jojo and co for spending this amount of time highlighting Ray’s addiction, reminding us that Ray is not just a party boy, but is an alcoholic. Ray’s using alcohol to calm his nerves, possibly to forget what happened, and definitely because he has no idea what else to do but run to the most comforting item he can.

We cut to the silence of Sand’s bedroom. Sand and Ray laying awkwardly side by side. Ray, to his credit, does try to comfort Sand

“Hey, don’t listen to what Boston said. If there’s something you want to know, ask me”

The problem is, while Boston does not have the full context for the depth at which he has just hurt Ray, he is still right. Ray loves Mew, and if Ray didn’t, he would not have gotten mad the way he did. Ray can say whatever he wants here, Ray can ask to be trusted by Sand to tell him what he wants to know. But Sand has seen enough of Ray’s behavior, been jerked around enough by Boston, heard too many times in too short a period that Ray does not consider them anything more than friends, and so Sand is back to boundaries and barriers.

Sand lost sight of himself, and he fell too quickly for a deeply broken boy that he cannot fix, and who is not emotionally available enough to be a good fit for him right now.

And God, for as much as Sand exists to be jerked around by the narrative and shit on and used by the wealthier characters, I see why First was picked to play this role (besides the fact that there is no one else but Khao that I think could have done Ray, and it’s hard to kick the GMMTV pair-ups.) We have not even gotten to the height of First Crying Over Problems That Are Partially His Character’s Fault in this show yet, but First is a master at microexpressions, and despite the fact that his face is pretty neutral, that Sand has put on this mask, there is just such a palpable disappointment radiating off of Sand. The shine in his eyes is dulled, I saw someone on tumblr say this really looks like the first time that Sand has seen Ray, looked at him without the rose-colored glasses.

Sand’s mother loves him, I think he is special to her, but it is hard to feel special to someone you have to take care of. In the montage at the beginning of the episode, Sand is shown working, working, working, working and we don’t really see him interacting with other people who he isn’t providing a service to. He sings at the bar, he seems to enjoy that, he seems to have a good time with Yo and Atom, but he is only that close to them because they pay him to play there. He is providing them a service. The only classmates he is shown interacting with are clients he is selling plum wine to. It’s really possible that Sand’s only friend is Nick, and we don’t see them hanging out that much.

And, I know there is always some contention about how any and all of these characters feel, how much or how little they are telling the truth, etc. But for me personally, I think about when Ray said that he does care about Sand’s feelings, and I at the time he said it, I don’t think he did, but I think by Episode 5 he is starting to genuinely care.

Ray is getting better at reading Sand, Ray is trying to have a serious conversation, or at least to open the floor to one, and Sand is sad and so he isn’t saying anything, and Ray is able to tell that something is wrong. Ray wants Sand to talk to him, Ray says Sand’s name multiple times, trying to get him to answer verbally.

And Sand can’t do it, not if he is looking at Ray, not if he has to actually face the reality of how much of a fool he has been, to fall this deep, to fall this fast, to get it in his head that he and Ray were becoming something more than friends. To actually believe for even a second that someone could think he was special.

So he closes his eyes, and he takes a deep breath, and he says:

“Forget it. I’m tired. One more thing…This has nothing to do with me.”

Who is he talking to here, Ray or himself?

Sand’s inhale in this moment is deep, it’s weary, unsteady, and sad. Sand is gathering the strength to let go of what he thought he had. He is rebuilding his walls, and placing Ray on the other side of them. He cuts Ray out completely the second he turns his back. And you can just see the guilt all over Ray’s face, you can see all these little bursts of realization moment after moment where Ray realizes that he’s losing Sand now too. Even though Sand is likely more of a consolation prize to him, an easy victim of his puppy dog eyes.

Alone o’clock is not just for Sand, it’s for Ray too. Boston has won yet again because Boston is a miserable sack of shit lashing out because Mew and Top finally fucked and he has to make it everyone’s problem

Tagging the ephemerality squad: @lurkingshan, @waitmyturtles, @chickenstrangers, @ranchthoughts, @twig-tea, @clara-maybe-ontheroad, @distant-screaming

and my blessed mess crew: @so-much-yet-to-learn, @ginnymoonbeam, @bengiyo, @shortpplfedup, @neuroticbookworm, @emotionallychargedtowel because I want attention :)

#only friends the series #only friends #ofts #sandray #bostonnick #firstkhao #neomark #first kanaphan #khaotung thanawat #neo trai #mark pakin #jojo tichakorn #ninew pinya #wka long post #only friends analysis #only friends meta #ofts meta

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