#brandy's stuffies

[brandycranby]

i went through my old stuffie box and brought one out bc i missed him... anyways here's mr lion... im introducing him to acnh 🥺 he's from 2002 so he doesnt know anything

himb learn

[animationismycomfort]

Bruce and Brandi are so cute

(and their kids are so chaotic I love it)

[mending-up-your-fences]

My other thought of tonight: the Hilton Brandi Carlile commercial is the cutest thing I’ve seen in my entire life

[flamingo--ing]

ohhhh i love my friends so so so dearly

[simpingforthemm]

Could I have a carmen Aziza fic where Yn is new to the prison and she always feels like someone’s staring at her and one day she catches carmen staring at her and gets really flustered then carmen starts flirting with her and becomes posessive over her then one day she drags Yn to the library and kisses her and basically confesses how she wants Yn all for herself

my love, mine all mine

my love mine all mine - mitski

word count: 5.9k

warnings: obsessive, possessive and protective behavior, flirting, kissing, toxic behavior, a bit of violence, threats, cursing, stalking, harry potter part 2 hate (I'm truly sorry)

summary: y/n is new to the prison and always feels like she is being watched. one night in the tv room, she turns around to the person who is watching her, only then realizing how gorgeous her observer is. they form a bond through several sets of events, slowly falling for each other. y/n slowly gets to know ouija's protective and possessive nature and at one birthday party of y/n's bunkmate, that behavior hits its peak. provocated by jealousy, frustration and confusing feelings, ouija makes a messy confession, explaining how she wants y/n all to herself

a/n: heyy, sorry that this took so long! I had a lot going on with school and writer's block so that I literally had no motivation to write. Anyway, I put a lot of work into this and I hope you like it (pls tell me what you think!!). I hope the flirting isn't too awkward, I'm still figuring out how to do that. I hope you enjoy and that I've done your idea justice. also this takes place in season 4

You were walking towards the entrance of Litchfield Penitentiary, the prison where you would be spending the next 3 years of your life. You had been charged with drug trafficking and distribution, all because some scared little snitch who didn't want to go to prison had ratted the whole cartel out. Even your drug lord was now facing a sentence of 9 years. 9 fucking years.

Your lawyer, who had defended you in trial, had been really shitty and literally just gave up on you. He didn't even try to make your sentence shorter, that sorry excuse of a man. Lazy fuck.

Morello, the weird Italian lady who drove you and some other people down to the prison, opened the gate and let you and the other new inmates inside. You couldn't believe you were now an "inmate", it was so weird to think of yourself that way.

"Welcome home everyone!", she exclaimed, giving you an encouraging smile.

You were lucky to get out of the cold van, it was January after all and since it had already snowed, the temperature had dropped down several degrees. So it was a relief to step into the warmer walls of the prison, not having to freeze your ass off in the snow.

The first thing you noticed when you stepped into the halls was how crowded it was. You were tempted to just turn around and run, trying to escape the stuffy air and suffocating feeling that was slowly spreading inside of you. Other inmates were constantly passing your little group, shooting you intimidating glances or smiling dangerously at you. You were uncomfortable, but not scared.

It just reminded you of the halls of your high school back then. Loud, uncomfortable and always overfilled. And god, the popular girls who used to bully you. To say the least, you were used to this.

Morello guided you through the prison, showing you where the commissary, bathrooms and everything else was. You were just passing the TV room, looking inside for a second when you made eye contact with a brown haired woman. The woman frowned at you, looking you up and down. You frowned back and kept walking, turning away from the door.

What the fuck was that?

You sighed and shook your head, telling yourself not to think too much of it. It had only been a small encounter, nothing too significant. At least not enough to get you in trouble. For now.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

You were shown to your dorm, where you occupied the bunk above a woman named Brandy Epps. It was obvious she was extremely racist, you even heard her discussing something about "white lives matter" or "white pride", which you took as a sign to stay the fuck away from her. She continued to make dirty comments about other inmates in the prison while you were busy making your bed.

You turned around to listen to her when you were done, staring at her in disgust and listening to the insults that were coming out of her mouth so easily. You shook your head in disbelief.

You must've been staring at her for too long as the woman turned around, obviously pissed off.

"You got some kind of problem?", she questioned threateningly, getting closer to where you were standing.

"No", you huffed, looking away. You really didn't want to start any trouble on your first day. Best to avoid tricky situations.

"Good. I see you staring like that again, we got a problem, you hear me?"

You sighed. You should've known people would have anger issues in here. That people would get aggressive over the smallest things, because they didn't have anything better to do. Because prison was a shithole and it was fucking tiring to simply just exist there. You certainly didn't want to end up like her, but you feared you were going to have no choice in the future.

"Sure."

Before she could say anything else, you made your way to the cafeteria for dinner.

Due to the prison's overcrowding, the blocks were divided up at each meal. You and your block ate with Cell Block C or the so-called "Spanish Harlem", as Morello had already explained to you.

With your plate of food in hand, you sat down at the end of some table and started eating. You were extremely hungry, exhausted from the stress of arriving in the prison.

Suddenly, you felt two pairs of eyes burn holes into your back and you just knew someone was staring at you. You forced yourself to not turn around, not wanting to start a fight on your first day. One never knew what could happen in prison, you might get jumped just because you sat in the wrong seat or stared at someone the wrong way, almost like it did with the racist bitch back in your dorm.

It made you uncomfortable but you focused on the disgusting brown liquid in front of you that was supposed to be "chili con carne", forcing it down your throat and hoping, no praying, that that person was going to leave you alone.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

The next few days you felt as if you were being watched the entire time, feeling that burning sensation in your back again. There wasn't a single moment where you didn't turn around every single second while walking to the showers or the cafeteria.

You were extremely paranoid.

But every time you did, there were always too many people in the halls to really make out someone who could be stalking you.

So you just kept on going about your day, minding your business.

Until you couldn't anymore.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

It was Friday night, which today should've been movie night, but it got canceled and now everyone was in a bad mood. It wasn't often that something nice like this happened and it was a good escape from the tiring everyday routine the inmates had in the prison. You got to watch cool movies, eat snacks from the commissary and chill with your friends.

Instead, you were now sitting in the tv room, just reading your book in a chair next to Morello, who had unfortunately forced you to come along.

"Come on, Y/N! I promise it'll be fun. You can bring your boring book, even though it is a TV room, meaning you go there to watch TV and not to…read. Usually. But I'm sure they'll make an exception!", she had said to you after finding you alone on your bunk, wrapped in your blanket. You had rolled your eyes at her but gotten up from your bunk nevertheless, admitting defeat.

You had actually been enjoying the silence in your dormitory from everyone being gone, but of course, that just had to be interrupted.

Now you were sitting there, amongst all those other people, just trying to read your book in peace. But, and honestly what else did you expect, there was the piercing set of eyes again, just watching your every move. You were actually so sick of it now. Why was this person looking at you the whole time? Why were you so interesting?

This time, you actually decided to turn around and not ignore them like you had done the other times.

You spotted her immediately. It was the woman who had frowned at you on your first day! The woman with the brown hair!

And now she was smirking at you. How was she not looking away or ashamed that you caught her?

Your eyes widened as you slowly scanned her. She was drop-dead-gorgeous. She had curves that were to die for, these stunning dark brown eyes…

You felt yourself blush and turned away. God, hadn't you promised yourself to not find anyone attractive here? Especially not people that could possibly be dangerous?

Well, you had just failed miserably and pathetically.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

Someone pulled a chair up in front of you, sitting on it backwards, using the back of the chair as an armrest.

You were looking down on the ground, burying your face in your book when a finger hooked itself under your chin, tilting it up.

The drop-dead-gorgeous woman was right in front of you, her eyes scanning your face, biting her lip.

She outstretched her hand to you.

"Ouija. Nice to meet you." Her eyes shone with something you couldn't quite decipher.

"Y/N", you introduced yourself, feeling shy in front of this beautiful woman, shaking her hand. She held onto it a little longer than normal, looking you directly in your eyes.

"That's a beautiful name."

She flashed you an amused smile, recognizing your anxiousness.

"Yo, there's no need to be shy, chica" (cutie/girl), Ouija said while moving in a little closer.

"Not for a pretty girl like you at least.", she said with a lowered voice.

She smiled at you once again and you felt your cheeks heat up.

"Thank you", you mumbled, not really knowing what else to say.

Ouija smirked.

"You're welcome, muñequita" (dolly)

Fuck.

"Anyhow, what you in for, mama?", she asked, slowly leaning back again as if she didn't just audibly make you gasp.

"Drug trafficking and distribution", you answered, avoiding her gaze.

"Yo, damn! So you a 'little miss drug dealer' then?" She laughed.

"Certainly. Right hand woman of my drug lord, thank you very much", you responded, bowing your head a little. She chuckled, shaking her head.

"Impressive, yo. I like a woman in power. It's hot."

You felt yourself blush again. God, this woman somehow had the ability to make you flustered very easily.

"So, what did you do?", you questioned.

"WIC Fraud. I killed three somebody's - nobodies -", she pointed to a tattoo that she had right next to her eye, three black teardrops, "and then I get popped for fucking fraud. You believe that shit?"

You shook your head, confused as to how they didn't find out about her killing all those people but charged her for the fraud. Maybe if you had committed another crime besides the drug thing and turned yourself in, you would be facing less time. You were suddenly deep in your thoughts, wondering about that, so that you didn't notice Ouija standing up beside you.

"All right, mama, I'mma let you get back to your book here. We'll see each other around", she said optimistically.

Ouija walked back to her seat, but not without winking at you and letting her hand brush against your arm.

You didn't get the chance to ask why she had been staring at you this whole time before really introducing herself to you, but right now, that matter seemed pretty unimportant to you. You felt starstruck from the interaction with the latina, just staring at the words in your book and not being able to focus at all. The conversation had been way too short and you already wanted to talk to her more.

But what you didn't know is that you wouldn't have to wait long until the two of you would speak again. Carmen had taken a liking to you and she was ready to explore what might develop between you two. At least she already knew that she was capable of making your cheeks go red within a matter of seconds.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

You were doing research in the library, or more like trying to find one of your favorite books, Harry Potter. You were trying to find some comfort in this cold place and what better way to do it than with your favorite literature? You wandered through the fiction aisle, scanning through the books.

There it was, on the highest shelf. But, of course, as expected, you were not tall enough to reach it. You felt so incredibly pathetic right now, there was no chair in sight to help you, no stool for you to stand on.

„Yo, need some help there?“, you heard someone ask. You turned around to the voice.

It was Ouija. She was leaning against one of the shelves, smirking at your attempts to stand on your tiptoes to grab the book, of course failing miserably.

„Yes, please“, you said, just a tad embarassed.

„Which book?“, she asked.

„Harry Potter“

She nodded, reaching up, taking it out without any strain.

„So, the goblet of fire“, she said, twisting the book in her hands.

„It was one of my favorite books growing up. I’m already done with all of the books I was allowed to bring in here so I thought I’d do a little nostalgia trip“

Your fingertips touched as she passed you the book.

„I liked it too as a little kid. But my favorite book was always the chamber of secrets“

„Girl – no offense – but are you serious?“

Ouija frowned, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.

„What do you mean?“, she questioned, crossing her arms in front of her face.

You smiled, shaking your head.

„Nah, I don’t want to destroy your favorite childhood book for you. I have a very strong opinion when it comes to Harry Potter.“

„No worries, yo, I can handle it. Give it to me“, Ouija said lowly, tilting her head. You bit your lip, rubbing your hands together, getting ready to go.

„Well, I think Ginny’s absolutely insufferable in that book, I mean sure, she was influenced by Voldemort but still, I think it’s not right that she played the „weak, needing to be saved“ girl in that book. It’s not exactly feminist. Also I think the book doesn’t really add to the series, it’s just kind of there as a „filler“ or an information dump. Also, the thing with the diary is just unrealistic. Why wouldn’t anyone notice that it’s in Ginny’s posession? It just doesn’t make sense.“

You grit your teeth in worry, hoping you didn’t go to far.

„I’m sorry, was that too far?“, you asked.

„Nah, I think you’re right actually. Yo, I might have to rethink my favorite childhood book“, Ouija laughed, rubbing her neck.

„I’d be happy to help. I know quite a lot about the series actually“, you explained proudly.

„I figured. That pretty face can convince me of anything, man, I’m sure“

You looked down, trying to hide the blush spreading on your cheeks.

„Don’t hide it“, Ouija said, tilting your chin up. You looked up into her beautiful dark brown eyes, getting lost in them.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

It was late in the afternoon, the sun was already setting and the inmates had a few hours left to catch some air outside before the prison would close its gates, making it time for lights out. You had put on your winter coat and beanie, ready to take a little stroll in the yard. Your hands were covered in thick gloves, protecting you from the harsh January wind

Today, you were just going to take a little stroll around the yard, not that anything else was really possible here. You wish you would have some kind of space to run, get rid of all the energy that you weren’t able to put to use properly.

You were just about to round the corner at the mailbox when you heard a noise.

You stopped in your tracks when you heard someone sniffle and sob.

Frowning, you started walking towards the sound and soon you were able to make out the person who they were coming from. They had brown curly hair - Oh shit! Ouija! You stopped yourself before you were going to run over to her and make sure she's okay.

You were unsure if you should approach her at such a sensitive time.

You wouldn't know how she was going to react, the two of you had known each other barely a hot second.

But you knew that if you were alone and crying in a prison and the person discovering you had good intentions, you would want to be comforted too. And that was good enough for you. You hoped you were making the right decision.

"Ouija, hey, what's wrong?", you asked worriedly, slowly kneeling down beside her.

Her head snapped up, her eyes widening when she realized it was you. She quickly wiped her tears away, trying to find her composure. You couldn’t help but admire her, she was even pretty when she cried, her lashes were stuck together, her cheeks were flushed… God, wrong moment!! Get it together Y/N...

"Oh shit. Hey, didn't hear you coming. Yo, how's it going?"

"I'm fine, but you don't seem to be. What's the matter?"

"Nah, I'm fine, nothing to worry about", she said quickly. You raised your eyebrows, not believing anything she said.

"What? I said I’m fine, man“, Ouija spat, putting up all her defenses.

"Look, I know we don’t really know each other, but I’m not gonna judge you for showing emotion or opening up. It’s human.“

Ouija huffed, shaking her head in disbelief.

"Fuck, fine. Shit, you're stubborn, girl. It's my son. He's in the hospital because of some gang activity in his block and…I'm not there for him, man. I'm in fucking prison. And I can't do anything about it."

You sighed. You knew what she was talking about. You felt the same. Being in prison made you feel so stuck, even though you had only been there for a few days. You weren’t there for your loved ones, the world around you kept turning and changing while you were locked away. Your friends had also seemingly already forgotten about you. Maybe they were all just glad you were gone.

"Honestly, I get it. I have a little sister, she just turned 5. She's growing up so fast and in a year, she'll already be in primary school. I'm missing out on her making her first friends there, I can't help her with her homework or comfort her when she has a bad day. It's torture. So yeah, I can relate. Nothing bad happened to her yet, fortunately, but you know the world out there. I can’t protect her from the harm she might experience out there."

The two of you were silent for a second, saying nothing.

"The thing is, you can't change anything about it. As much as it sucks, you gotta figure out how to deal with that shit. You gotta trust that your son knows you love him and that you being in here has nothing to do with him."

That flipped a switch in Ouija. She did love her son, a lot. She had just got to find a way to show it to him, especially right now. A small smile spread on her face as an idea popped up in her head.

She felt your hand touch her back, stroking it slowly.

Ouija turned to you, the woman who she had been obsessed with ever since she had entered the walls of this prison. The woman who she had frowned at when she made eye contact with her at her first day. The woman who frowned back. She knew that you knew that she had watched you the first few days upon your arrival. You were just so mesmerizing to her, she somehow felt drawn to you.

"Inmates! Back inside!", you heard a guard shout loudly. You sighed. The roughness of the CO's was still something you had to get used to.

"Yo, we should probably go before it gets serious or some shit. You never know if these fuckers are gonna pull out a gun or not", Ouija said, outstretching her hand to you, desperate to get you away from possible danger.

You nodded, letting her help you up.

As you were about to walk past the guard, you noticed that your shoe was untied. You stopped, reaching down to tie it, but the CO was not having it.

„INMATE! KEEP IT MOVING! I HAVEN’T GOT ALL FUCKING DAY, YOU UNDERSTAND??!“, he shouted aggressively, about to yank you up from the ground, when Ouija threw herself inbetween you two.

From your place on the ground, you didn’t hear what she said to the CO or what made him back off of the two of you. You only saw her enraged facial expression as she turned to help you up, once again. You were in a complete state of shock, this being the first time you were properly yelled at by a guard. You felt Ouija wrap an arm around your shoulder, guiding you back inside.

„Inmate Aziza, I would fucking throw you down to the SHU, but I’m fucking exhausted from today so I will let you off EASILY because I’m so nice with just a shot. For the both of you that is!“, he spat at the two of you as you walked back inside.

Ouija saw the broken look on your face and from that point, there was no way in hell that she was ever going to leave your side. She felt protective of you suddenly, she wanted to rip that guard’s head off, no, she wanted to choke him until his words got stuck in his fucking throat for ever talking to you in that way.

She wanted to shield you from any and all bad things in this place. She wanted you to herself, wanted no one fucking near you, except for her. Her hand grabbed your shoulder tighter.

She stood in front of you, so you were facing her. Butterflies erupted in her stomach as your gaze met hers. Your eyes were so beautiful. You were slightly looking up to her, as Ouija was a bit taller than you.

„Hey, yo, are you okay, mama? That guard was pretty rough on you“, she asked you, her voice soft as velvet. Tears threatened to spill from your eyes, but Ouija wasn’t letting that happen. She grabbed your chin, caressing your cheek with her thumb.

„Yo, no crying, pretty woman, we’ve already had enough of that today.“

„I love that movie“, you chuckled slightly, wiping your eyes with the sleeves of your shirt.

„Pretty Woman? White poor woman fucks rich white man and falls in love? Nah, that shit’s too predictable.“

„Exactly. One already knows how the movie ends, but I still like it“

Ouija scoffed, ruffling your hair. She leads you back to your dorm, glaring at Epps as the bald-headed woman was about to harass you again. Epps backed up with raised hands, whispering:

„I wasn’t even about to do anything...“

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

You were casually walking to the showers, towel and toiletries in hand. It was 5am in the morning, so the line wasn't long.

You had gotten up early for the hot water, your bunkmate Epps complaining that you were making too much noise, disrupting her very important sleep. There were only 2 hours until she had to get up anyway. Epps luckily hadn’t bothered you too much the past few days, thanks to Ouija, who had given her death glares whenever the two of you had been hanging around each other, which had been quite often. You had spent most of your time with her, she had helped you settle into the prison and made you laugh almost all the time. You had been there for her during all the announcements she got from the hospital about her son and celebrated with her when the doctor told her that he was going to be okay.

You hadn’t really gotten acquainted with any of the other women at the prison, as every time you tried to talk to one of them, you felt Ouija’s glare on the both of you or you got pulled away from the other person because she suddenly „needed to talk to you very urgently“. Of course you knew that she was jealous somehow, even though she had no reason to be. One of the times when she had dragged you away, the two of you had gone to the chapel. Ouija hadn’t said anything as she had taken your hand and pulled you along with her.

She had lifted you onto the stage, where performances or speeches were given, but kept standing on the ground herself. She still stayed silent as she locked eyes with you and slowly ran one of her hands up your thigh. She leaned in a little bit when her hand reached the waistband of your pants, her eyes on your lips. You could basically feel the electricity sizzling between the two of you. It was like the two of you were always meant to end up so close to each other, like this. Your foreheads were already touching, your lips barely inches away from each other, when the door to the chapel slammed shut and the both of you immediately flew off of each other. Pidge was calling for Ouija, telling her that Maria was calling a meeting. Ouija, frustrated, promising you she would be back for you, „continuing where you left of“. And now you were here.

You stepped into one of the shower cabinets, turning on the shower head.

You sighed as the warm water washed over your body, immediately making you sleepy again. You hadn’t slept really well with that racist woman Epps beneath you. You never knew what she might do and you always had to sleep with one eye open. It was exhausting and definitely took a strain on your body.

"Mornin', muñequita."

You turned around to the voice, looking directly into Ouija's eyes. She looked a little sleepy, but her half-closed eyes were still roaming your body, drinking in your frame. With just a look, she was able to to make you sweat, blush, avoid her gaze… it was nerve-wracking. With a towel wrapped around your body, you stepped outside of the shower and towards the fully dressed Ouija.

"Hey there“, you answered, yawning.

"How you doing, mama?"

"I'm good, a little tired still." She nodded understandingly.

"Glad my pretty girl is doing well", she smiled, leaning against the wall.

You blushed a little and looked to your feet, trying to hide your reddened cheeks.

"Yo, come over here, mama", she beckoned.

You looked left and right to check if anyone was there who could possibly see you before you moved out of the shower cabin and over to where Ouija was standing.

As soon as you were standing in front of her Ouija grabbed your shoulders and pulled you close, wrapping her arms around your lower torso. She pressed a kiss to your forehead, allowing you to rest your head on her chest.

„Y/N?“

„Yeah?“

„I wanted to say thanks for the time you found me..you know, crying, and comforted me and shit. I didn’t deserve that and I’m still a shit mom, but I talked to my son on the phone and...he’s coming to visitation next week“

You squealed in excitement, jumping up a little bit, so excited for Ouija.

„Ouija, that’s great! I’m so happy for you!“

You wrapped your arms around her neck , embracing her in a hug.

Ouija grabbed you by your hips and switched positions so that now you were pressed against the wall. Both of her hands were placed next to your head while yours were busy holding up that towel of yours.

„You’re so cute when you’re happy, you know that?“, Ouija asked, biting her bottom lip. She leaned in closer, taking your face inbetween her hands. Your eyes closed in anticipation, ready to finally connect with her, to finally feel the full extent of the electricity between you too. She leaned in, leaned in, you started feeling dizzy of her scent, of her presence...

BANG! The metal door to the showers slammed shut, loud voices coming from the doorway. Ouija immediately let go of you, distancing herself, and as some of the other inmates walked past you and entered the showers, you tried to act as nothing had happened before. You exchanged a frustrated glance with her, were you ever going to be able to kiss?

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

It was your bunkmate Epps' birthday and she made like this whole deal out of it. Almost everyone in this prison was invited, including you and Ouija and almost every single lesbian which was weird, since Epps was definitely homophobic.

But she and her friends did know how to throw a party, you had to leave her that. There was a snack bar with drinks, a dance floor and colorful garlands reading "happy birthday".

You had just entered the overfilled room, completely overwhelmed, not knowing what to do or where to stand or where to sit. You were looking around for Ouija, finding her in a corner of the room, next to Pidge and Zirconia.

She was staring down everyone in the room, a grumpy expression on her face. You know how frustrated she had been the past few days, you were about to kiss two times, but always had been interrupted by one of the other inmates. Privacy was basically non-existent in prison and by now, the two of you were so desperate to kiss, you almost felt like two pathetic lesbian teenage girls.

You were walking towards her, pushing through the crowd, and as you approached them, Zirconia noticed you, her face lighting up.

"Y/N! Hi!", she exclaimed happily.

Ouija's head immediately snapped in your direction and her entire demeanor changed. Her grumpy face disappeared, her eyes lit up and a smile spread across her lips.

"Well, yo, look who showed up!", she said, genuinely happy to see you.

You smiled at her and Pidge.

You looked around for a chair to pull up next to the group, but of course, every single one was taken. This did not go unnoticed by Ouija and she certainly did not seem too unhappy about this fact as her smirk widened.

"Come, muñeca, you can sit here", she said, pointing to her man spread legs. Damn, you thought, really really wanting to, but not being sure if it might be risky. You looked around to see if anyone was looking except for Zirconia and Pidge, but everyone was too focused on themselves to even slightly care about the two of you. And even so, you didn’t care.

You lowered yourself onto her lap and immediately felt her arms tightly wrap around your torso.

„Good girl, put those pretty thighs on me“, she whispered in your ear, her hand stroking your leg softly. Your eyes widened, the familiar blush spreading on your cheeks. „Mi amor, mio todo mio“, (my love, mine all mine) she mumbled, placing a kiss on your shoulder.

The evening progressed without anyone even looking at you. You sat on Ouija’s lap the entire time, wondering how it wasn’t taking a strain on her legs, conversing with her, Zirconia and Pidge. You did not once go to the buffet because you were so immersed in the conversation you were having with them but nevertheless, you were thirsty.

„I’ll just get something to drink really quick, do you want anything?“, you said to Ouija, hopping off of her lap.

„Nah, I’m good, thanks though“

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

You were standing at the bar, deciding what drink you were going to get, not that there were a lot of options, this was prison after all. Possibilities weren’t exactly endless.

„Hi there“, a voice greeted you, coming out of nowhere.

You jumped, letting out a little shriek.

„Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you“, the woman next to you said worriedly, but you only laughed.

„It’s fine, I get scared easily.“

„You’re new here right?“, she asked, tilting her head in curiosity.

„Yeah, I arrived here about two weeks ago, so my stay hasn’t exactly been long“

„Ah, so a newbie. That’s why I haven’t seen you around.“

You nodded, conversing in a little small talk with her. You already felt Ouija staring at you, knowing it was because of her protective and posessive nature, but you also wanted friends in here. You needed other people that you could rely on.

The woman, who turned out to be called Carla was telling you funny stories about other prisons she had been at and interactions she had with other inmates there and here at Litchfield.

You laughed loudly, finding her absolutely hilarious. While you and the woman were joking around, Ouija was boiling with anger and jealousy. She tried to keep her cool, „take a fucking chill pill“, like Zirconia had advised her. But it was really hard when she hadn’t even kissed you yet, didn’t even get to call you hers yet. Maybe the possibility of somebody else still being able to snatch you away was giving her the nerves. Maybe she would be more relaxed if she knew you were really hers.

Maybe. But right now, she just wanted to get you the fuck away from that other woman.

As you kept talking with Carla, you felt her put her hand on your waist.

„Um…“, you mumbled, looking over to Ouija. That was Carmen Aziza’s last straw. Nobody would touch her girl, not like that.

She stormed over to where you were standing and pushed the other woman off of you and to the ground where she landed with a loud bang. She stood over the woman, placing her thick boot onto her chest, compromising her airways.

„Touch her again and yo“, she laughed bitterly, „I’ll fuck you up“.

Before you could properly register what was happening, you felt yourself being grabbed by the wrist and pulled away. You didn’t know where you were going, as you were still finding your way around the prison, when you reached the door to the library. It was completely silent, the only sound being you getting pushed against one of the shelves.

Ouija stood in front of you, placing one of her hands beside your head. She used the other one to harshly grab your chin, lifting it up so you were looking at her. Her facial expression was one of anger, jealousy and displeasement.

„I don’t know who that other woman thinks she is, but she better know that you’re mine. Ever since you stepped into the walls of this prison, shit, I knew I had to have you. You're mine, amorcita. You're all mine and yo, guess what? I ain't about fucking sharing. I can’t hide how I feel about you anymore, munequita. Not when 1000 other bitches are this close to you every day. I love you.“

Ouija’s face was full of worry, anticipation of what you thought of her confession, if you felt the same.

„I’m yours“, you said, breathless, and that was all it took for Ouija to smash her lips against you and press you further into the wooden shelves. Her scent intoxicated you, all you saw, smelled, heard, touched was her. She was your whole world and you were hers. Her warm body was pressing into yours, her hands were roaming your body, diving underneath your shirt. Finally, you could do what you waited so long for. Her hands were in your hair, her tongue was dancing with yours. You forgot that you were in prison, you forgot about the world around you.

All there was, was you and her. Your love, yours all yours.

[straykidsmoonlight]

SKZ react- they take their kids to work.

Please send any requests!!

I’m also now writing personalised stories for small tips… unemployment is real in my country… please message or ask (anons more than welcome) for more info!

Chan:

Definitely wakes up lonely knowing your on a business trip, pouting without his morning cuddles

Slowly, pulls himself out of bed, tired after a late night at the studio and worries about how to get all three kids in the car simultaneously

Once they arrive at the JYP building, Brandi and Karl immediately run to their favourite uncle, Jisung and clamber on his lap, while Chan carries your youngest baby in a carrier attached to his front.

Being so young, Libby still has lots of people to meet, so many of Chans colleagues stroll in and out as 3racha work, to cuddle with the newborn.

Chan keeps a watchful eye the whole time, always wary when it comes to his precious baby, can only fully concentrate when one of the members is holding her, knowing what amazing dads and uncles they were.

Lee Know:

Another one who hates starting the day without you

Sleepily drives Jeni to work, while you are staying overnight at the hospital with Byeol.

Carefully places Jeni on a sofa in the practice room, surrounded by blankets

100% bet none of the members can focus on the choreography all day… as the coo over Jeni, complimenting Lee Know on her cuteness as he goes all shy and blushy.

Just turns into a massive hugging session as the members pass round the little one for cuddles, as Minho captures the sweet moments on his phone.

Changbin:

Gets really nervous taking both kids out on his own.

Almost cried when you told him the kids would have to go to work with him.

As he tries to work on music, Jimin starts to fuss, and won’t stop crying no matter what Changbin does, while Hyungsik keeps getting bored.

Luckily Jeongin brought one of his kids, so Hyungsik and Jihae could play together

Ends up holding Jimin against his chest with one hand, while typing with the other, every so often looking down to check on her

Hyunjin:

Practically has a mental breakdown the second Cheon-Sa wakes up as he “literally cannot” find anything for his son to wear

Once he’s finally dressed, he gets to the studio where him and the guys are filming SKZ code.

All his uncles can be seen with huge smiles as Hyunjin walks in cradling his only baby.

Carefully hides Cheon-Sa’s face when the cameras are on, as he’s one of the members who doesn’t show his kids face.

All the comments on the video end up being about how adorable Cheon-sa is, and all Stays find watching him with his uncles and dad adorable 🤧

Han Jisung:

This is a perfect example of a child with children

Is completely lost without you while you’re spending time with your friends

Tumbled through the building’s doors with his daughters missing shoes 😭

Literally barley got anything recorded because he was so distracted by his girls. One moment he was racing Mae down the hallways, and the next he was falling asleep with Seol-a and Dani on the sofa

Cries tears of joy when you get home, exhausted from spending all day with his girls.

Lee Felix:

(This gif legit shows how I think he would talk to his kids😭)

Surprisingly really capable without you there, but this sunshine literally pines after you all day

Gets the kids to the JYP building just fine before he realises he’s forgot Milo’s Wolfchan 😭

Milo’s a quiet child, but you forget his his stuffie chan and he will lose it. Felix tries his very best to calm Milo while keeping a watchful eye on his younger baby Hanuel.

Physically cannot calm his son down, and has to call chan in to bring wolfchannie from felixs apartment, just for Milo to cling on to his uncle for the next three hours.

Seungmin:

You leave this man with your girls for two damn hours

He just lets his twins do whatever

Is so much of a pushover😭

The girls literally run around babbling away driving chan half insane (he loves his neices dont worry)

Seungmin just laughs away until one of the girls hits her head and he has to rush her to A and E. feels so bad

All is well, and you return home to Seungmin pretending nothing ever happened

Jeongin:

You are quite scared leaving Jeongin to take all five kids to work

This guy is a great dad though

Somehow managed to juggle a ton of hyper kids, all while recording music

In the end had to record the new song with Seom in his arms, meaning you can hear tiny teeny baby noises in the background of the new song.

Hyungs definitely stare proudly at the scene in front of them, and take tons of photos of their Maknae on top.

[aconflagrationofmyown]

but then…Gigi

An Elvis fanfic -chapter 3

Notes: finally a little update! There’s more coming up behind it I just needed to break it up a bit. Thank y’all for all the asks and the continued enthusiasm! Hope y’all enjoy! 💗

18+ content, sexual content, age gap and poor self esteem, parental neglect

Chapter Three

It’s stuffy inside the Stutz, humid air trapped inside it and in the garage; even Elvis Presley’s garage smells like mildew on this oppressive, stormy summer day. Her perspiration gluing her bare legs to his leather seats, Gigi tries in vain to pace her gasping breaths in the thick air.

Raising a jittery hand from its place balled in a fist on her thigh, she touches her lips in an effort either to relive or soothe the memory -she doesn’t know.

Elvis had kissed her.

Acting on her dare, he had kissed her. And it was no solitary peck or showy tongue plunge, it was a kiss so wanting and yearning and adoring as to make her feel it in her toes. Even now they were still tingling and her blood was roaring in her ears and if she wasn’t so overwhelmed with sensation and emotion, she might have found it in herself to touch herself to some completion just to make this pounding want for him moderate itself before the man himself appeared. Each passing second tore her between fretting over the unpleasant scenes that must be occurring inside the house and unadulterated glee over the thought of him finally helping himself to a portion of her.

She liked him a little selfish. It made her feel wanted, and it was a woozy, drippy, woolen headed feeling to be wanted by a real, red blooded man. Gigi hadn’t much experience with that, with the barrel chested, raspy voiced, brandy tempered men in their 40’s. Like a shot of whiskey after so many fruit drinks, his seasoned appraisals were flattering and dizzying all at once.

Her pulse roars and her thighs smack against each other with each shift against leather and helplessly Gigi closes her eyes and relives the feeling of his hands buried in her hair, cradling her face, thumbs anchored at her jaw, bending her to his kisses as his weight crushes her to the floor.

He’d been so large, so sturdy, so sure, ungiving yet plush all in the right mix. And she had felt him hanging low and prodding. The memory zaps her right where she had felt him thick and firm in his soft track bottoms and with a gasp tumbling from bitten lips she sneaks a hand beneath the hem of his jacket and into her sodden panties. As the time wears on she has some strange presentment that he’ll have lost the mood they were in and it’s out of a sort of despair that she chafes her slippery little hood in a quick bid for relief. She thinks about those thighs of his, sturdy and toned and furred as she’d seen them when in his swim shorts, she thinks about rubbing herself raw on them.

Her feet make a squeaking noise where they’re propped up against the glove box, her legs trembling from the sparks, widening as the feeling mounts. A quick squeak of friction and she catches herself and sucks on her lip, repositions those long legs to a sturdier stance and speeds up her hand in her knickers as the sweat pours down her neck, wets the back of her hair where it drapes down her back and his seats. Suffocated she yanks the zipper away from her neck, undoing the jacket down the glistening hollow of her navel. She flaps the edges to get a breeze.

Almost there, almost there.

What Elvis had not anticipated to find waiting for him in his Stutz after a predictably miserable finale with Ginger and Co. was the leggy beauty of his deepest, darkest, most far fetched daydreams fingering herself with unabashed gusto in the passenger seat.

Childlike in her concentration, with eyes closed and legs splayed so wide the entire windshield was like a projector for the damn show happening beneath a tiny nylon scrap, Gigi all bowed up under his unzipped jacket like a bowstring, teetering towards a damn good crescendo by the looks of her vibrating legs.

It was obscene.

Made more so by those fat titties of hers barely covered by his unzipped jacket, glistening with every heaving breath. All in stark constant to that angelic face. It was infuriating.

Something akin to jealousy animated Elvis enough to send him stumbling down the remaining step to land his bejeweled hands heavily enough on the car’s door frame to cause a clatter and frighten the daylights outta his lil nymphomaniac.

He’s not sure who’s blushing worse when those blue eyes fly open and she gasps,

“Elvis.”

in acknowledgement of his presence while doing nothing to remove the offending hand from between her legs. He had been able to hear the sopping wet mess between them and it takes him aback a little, this tangible proof of her carnal interest. He’d been doing a damned good job with Ginger, settling in for the quiet life of reading and tennis, no heady first encounters and only his stupid bouts of yearning causing him to commission stupidly erotic tokens of bygone potency like that welded belt with his name on it. A burdensome gift for an unwilling recipient.

Guess he’s gonna have to run by the jeweler and cancel that trinket, Ginger hasn’t any use for it now. But this, this is better than any of that. This is old fashioned and nasty, this way of Gigi’s cunt makin’ a sound like stirring Macaroni and Cheese between her legs. It’s both flattering and terrifying and his blood rushes to meet the challenge just as it had when he first found a woman lying in wait for him in his car after the hayride in ‘56. She’d had a husband, that lady, and a wet snatch that had dripped down to her very calves watching him put on a show. Elvis had put his whole fist up there and got fondled real nice for it before ending up with a busted face.

It’s been awhile since anyone laid in wait for him.

Finding such raw need for him oughta make him smile. Instead he finds it makes him pause, hand on the door handle. He didn’t think she was this sort.

“Lord forgive ya, you enjoyin’ yourself lil girl?” he mumbles with an edge to his tone as Gigi just sits there and shakes, teetering on the edge and not even ashamed, although her hand has stilled. He hates it, for one fierce second he’s irreparably cross with this virginal little harpy for having deceived him, for being so randy when he’d been so sure she needed protection and guidance.

He’s sick of being wrong about women, sick to death of it.

“Yessir, I am -was.” she whispers back to him, eyes wide and guileless, “I’m so glad you’re here.” she says with such obvious relief in her breathy voice and faith in his good intentions to satisfy her that he’s reminded suddenly what a baby she is, like a punch to the gut and kick to the conscience. He’s still leaning on the doorframe when she takes her hand outta those panties and he wants to be relieved until she stretches it towards him with all the pleading grace of a damsel in great distress, “I need you real bad.” she explains plaintively and all that well entrenched nonsense about how ladies oughta behave themselves when in public spaces like garages or pools, suddenly gets a little murky in Elvis’ head. Sorta floaty and fuzzy when met with the sticky, perfect, nectarine sweet smell of her want for him glistening on the tips of her fingers.

“The hell are ya, the serpent himself?” he grumbles even as he wrenches open the car door and heaves himself in alongside her, his belly wedged behind the wheel in a regretfully inelegant bulge. “Get that fuckin’ temptation outta my face, we’ve buisness to discuss. We ain’t primates, we’re adults and we’ll dee-s-cuss the various matters at hand like adults.”

Elvis slaps her hand away from his nose as he says this and Gigi clutches it to her chest as if his sharp words had scorched the soft flesh of it. He tries to ignore the way the whole car smells of thunderstorm trapped pussy musk. The way her eyes are brimming with tears over his refusal to suck the sticky strings of her horniness off her digits. And the way he feels so pressed to keep things sedate between them initially, simply because he knows “adults” is a kind word for them both.

He’s a dirty old man with what he wants and will eventually get around to doing with this fawnish young thing if she lets him. And holy lord!

- ‘Adults’-

it ain’t a lie in respect to her, they’re both adults, but it’s rather reaffirming of how shoddy that excuse is when he has to say it a million times to comfort himself and this over excitable girl who has her legs wide open and her thighs shiny from fingering herself to the memory of a make out session.

God, what he could do with such sensitivity…

“Alright, listen here, lil one-” He makes an effort to clear his throat and in a bid to make her eyes stop watering with unshed tears from his tone, Elvis tries to lighten the mood by aiming a little slap at the offending place between her still splayed legs.

It has a slightly more stimulating effect than he anticipated.

Gigi’s eyes fly wide in cerulean disks of joy at the ringing pain of his rings smacking against her petals, right before her body goes rigid and his hand gets trapped between two spasming thighs as an unmistakable little peak rips it’s way through her, taking its sweet time to zap her and compress her lungs. The sight is heavenly and it gives him a little prelude of what it would be like to make her lose her mind.

His irritation fades away at the sight of her trusting pleasure and the melted look of loneliness that flashes across her face as she endures it with ample room between them on the seats, no embrace to catch the slumping after effects. He’s a cruel man and his hand defends himself by rubbing at her soothingly, asking for forgiveness with fumbling swipes of the pads of his fingers along her inner thigh. His hand is drenched when he yanks it out and grabs at a knee, hauling her over across the bench seat, scraping her thighs over sticky leather, nearer to him.

She looks like she needs a hug after what he just did to her.

What had he done? Fucked if he knows, he had pussy slapped her…err, ok he made out with her on his floor…no, he led her on before that but it was all in good fun…he’d held her in the pool…no law against that…he’d made her a burger as any hopeless romanti-

-as any good host would do.

He takes out his confusion on the hapless gear shift, tucking this suggestively foldable girl into his side and reaching round her shoulders to yank at the jewel studded stick, desperate to get outta this garage before someone witnesses him losing his mind in there.

He gets the gear shift tacky from her traces on his hand. He should've guessed that, strings of slick connecting them still even as she calms down from the feel of him against her in the seat, just as he suspected, hoped, needed. No words as the car revs out and into the drive, just her little moans still bubbling up as the car moves and her legs jostle her.

“Baby, tuck yourself down beside me,” he pleads, “don’t want no one to see your precious self.”

Gigi wastes no time in getting offended over his secrecy. Instead she somehow folds further, head nearly between her legs and face smushed into the crease where his belly meets his thigh. It’s not what he meant, it’s not what he wanted. The bottom of the steering wheel is liable to knock her little nose with each spin. And his fat gut is folded against her forehead.

It’s not what he’d wanted.

But today seems to be going that sorta way. The screwed up, make a fool outta his hopes sorta day.

He still manages to be polite to his boy in the gate shack and it’s gratifying that there are a few folks outside the gate, loitering mostly but they animate when he drives out, happy and waving and caring whether he lives or dies or never drives outta there again. Gratifying, it’s real gratifying. He protectively lays his hand on Gigi’s head to keep her low, to keep her steady in her curled up position as the voices of his fans rise outside the automobile and the car spins out into the boulevard with enough force to send a frailer girl straight to the floor boards.

Instead Gigi just clutches at his leg and throws a tanned leg out to catch herself against the console, takes the turn like a champ and stays down as he asked. Her hand warms him like some forbidden shit coursing lava-like through his veins, pounding in that artery under her palm, there beneath his squishy inner thigh, so close to where he can feel himself getting heavy -if not hard- right there in the baggy tracksuit. He thinks he must be dreaming, that it’s just an action of readjustment, but no.

No.

God it can’t be, no but, he could swear she was nuzzling that crease of his. The one that used to be lean and cut during his army days, chiseled and contoured in the movies and always at least a little defined even as a boy but now -now it’s a soft roll of flesh dropping onto bulky thighs and she’s -

Fuck. She’s definitely nuzzling it.

Gigi’s head is foggy and fuzzy with the old terror of having messed up somehow and somewhere and not knowing what it was. It makes her pulse race and her eyes burn in that old crybaby way until she thinks she can’t take it anymore and just might pass out like an overwrought little maiden -until she feels him tuck her into the security of his warm side, until she hears his pleading command to hunker down, until his hand cradles her head as he presses her lower into the bulk of his soft belly: and then she is warm and safe.

Fuzzy and foggy then in a way only her silliest daydreams have ever promised her. The ones where she’s loved and permitted to be a little too soft for it all. One where her forehead is pressed against warm flesh beneath a tracksuit, her lips puckered out to feel the material glide against them, straining for the feel of his wiry curls beneath. She feels compelled to cradle herself in every nook and cleft of him, her arms winding around him as he takes a turn and her hand anchoring to his thigh, her cheek atop it. Her nose buried in that scrumptious fold of his that is as burnin’ hot and sticky to her senses as a Tupelo hothouse in august.

It makes her moan, a hot and puffy gust of appreciation, her thighs still smashed together. She could cry this time from gratitude at how close he is to her, how commanding the weight of his hand is on her head. She’d happily let him push her face into his crotch in payment for having messed up all his arrangements today. She’s never given a blowjob before, not properly at least, and maybe he’d be a little angry about it but she thinks she could take it. She wouldn’t like him angry but as long as she was near him and he was down her throat and gripping her jaw and pulling her hair -well, he’d have to touch her to do all that and she wanted that. She needed that. That would be ok. It would be kinda hot. She just needed him to stay close. Forever.

She’d never felt so safe as she did now, tucked under his arm with his hand spanning her whole skull and likely driving straight to a speedy deflowering. Nothing about that gave her pause. She was sure she could love him to some sort of compromise -one involving her being his pet and he her daddy for ever and a day. It was simple really. So simple it felt like it had already begun and that silly adult conversation he needed to have with her had been worked out and now they were off into the sunset.

Gigi feels a wash of contentment at this. Simple really, she thinks again to herself and acts on it as she feels him suck in his stomach in response to her nosing at his fold. It had made the hem of his jacket gape and she takes full advantage of that by discreetly sticking her whole face up in that musky little tent and peppering his soft belly with heartfelt smooches. His belly is still wet, maybe from his shower after the pool.

Kiss, kiss, just a little peppering of pecks.

She licks her lips. It’s salty. She pecks at him again. This time open mouthed. Definitely salty.

Kiss kiss kiss. Just little kisses. Little thank you’s.

Each one saying “we’re gonna be so happy.” It was simple really. They could make each other happy. Isn’t that how kids form their friendships? You make me laugh, you share your toys, you like my food. Let’s love each other.

Kiss kiss kiss.

The brakes squeal and the wheel bonks her head and maybe she wasn’t being as subtle as she intended with her affections but those were all minor distractions. They were gonna be happy together.

“Sweet merciful baby Jesus on the cross—“ she hears Elvis saying above her instead, muffled by his jacket and a few pounds of prime memphian beefcake.

“What is it?” she asks, yanking her head out from under his jacket to get some perspective on why they’ve stopped, all she can see is at endearing little extra bit of fleshy padding under his chin and the curve of his lips and maybe beyond that there appears to be an awning outside the window, like at a gas station. They must be low on fuel.

“What is it?” he mimics with a lifted eyebrow and a silly expression that just enhances his adorable double chin, a goofy little move she recognizes from his movies but likes it better from this vantage point. “The “it” is you, lil girl, as usual,” he laughs in disbelief, “and the “what” is that you’re gonna give this ole man a heart attack goin on like that while he’s navigatin’ a public roadway. Ain’t safe, ain’t sensible.”

“Oh, sorry ‘bout that.” she says and it’s so honest and accepting he melts right away at it. That and the fact she’s still laying down all shiny and golden across his lap with her hair pooling in the V of his legs and her smile lookin’ so fond at what she must consider a portly, middle-aged fussbudget.

Since when did he start soundin’ like fuckin’ Gingerbread? Whinin’ bout safety when he coulda been spurtin’ down an untried throat.

“You’re just so cuddly, Elvis, wanted to snuggle right in. Way you were drivin’ I figured I needed an airbag if things went wrong.” She explains teasingly and there goes that smile again and he’s so confused and so in love… “We low on fuel, Elvis?” she asks without missing a beat.

“Wha-?” he glances around and realizes he has peeled the car up next to a Seven Eleven’s dingy pumps. “No, I’s just tryin’ to get away from a lil snail that burrowed under my damn jacket.”

Gigi giggles at that and so he does too. Goes so far as to take his hand off the idle wheel and cup the sharp underside of her chin. He feels it again, that thrumming, electric, shocking and sedating connection all at once, everything that oughta be felt when you touch another’s soul, everything full of good intentions.

“I just wanted to kiss on ya some more.” she explains herself so very softly to him as her eyes flutter shut from his touches and her legs draw up and together unconsciously on the bench seat. “I do know givin’ road head’s illegal.” she says next with a laugh and it jars him, “And you’re a cop!” she feigns a little horror. “But since you’ve got us parked…” she trails off before opening those glittery eyes again and lifting her head just a little as she turns back on her side, intimating some intention to make good on her jokes.

Elvis would rather go to hell than face fuck so sweet an Angel, much as his leg twitches from want for it. Her face is so close, so, so close. He’d rather go to hell.

She ducks her head and her hair covers the revolting scene as he feels rather than sees Gigi nuzzle beneath his belly and press a wide open kiss to his (pretty neglected of late) ball sack, aiming at random, he thinks, from the way she just open-mouth-smooches him. His toes curl from it.

That’s all the reaction she’s gonna get from his useless body, those pills he took for the migraine this morning are gonna keep him as limp as those goddamn seaweed noodles Ginger tried to feed him in Hawaii. Just a couple of years ago he coulda easily choked this little thing to death with his firm meat but now she’s gonna find out he can’t even twitch when he’s this sedated. Ballsack smmotching and pussy slaps, regardless.

He’d rather go to hell.

“Don’t be crass, lil girl, that sorta act ain’t becomin’ on you.” he says it as gently as he can, in a fatherly way if he thinks about it, weaving his hand into her hair and savoring that visual ecstasy for just a moment before he pulls her head the opposite direction his body really wants, pulls her up and away from him. She’s surprised and saddened enough by the rejection that she jerks her head up faster than he’s guiding it and it bonks into the steering wheel again.

The blast of the car horn makes them both yelp.

She scrambles to sit up, doubly wounded.

There’s those tears forming again.

She’s frustrating in that way but he can’t manage to let it out on her, and that’s puzzling as only Yissa has ever elicited this amount of indulgence from him and he feels exhausted at that implication. He involuntarily shuts his eyes and he sighs and reaches over to pat her leg assuringly.

“You’re tired.” she deduces and there’s not a hint of judgment or disappointment in that voice.

“Yeah, and I gotta think.” he says, “All my thinkin’ spots are currently takin’ up by assholes.” he realizes, “And we’re gonna get caught out in the open here.”

She hums understandingly and he keeps petting that silky smooth leg, relishing how muscular those calves are, fingers itching to play with that anklet. He rubs his palm higher to get away from the dangly temptation, higher and in between her legs. He might as well give in a little. He rubs over the wet crotch of her panties and she sighs happily, leaning her head back and closing her eyes. Same position he’s in, mirroring him, as he keeps his eyes closed and rubs. He spreads his index and middle finger, catches those outer lips and traps them together, rubs her that way with her wet petals gliding together and her moans go up a notch. They just breathe and he rubs, the sound of the car idling a heavy bass to her breathy percussion.

“I’m sorry everybody is taking up your space.” Gigi makes conversation while he’s at it, and somehow it just feels right to chat while he pets her.

In the dark of his closed eyelids Elvis has regained a little peace and he lets his fingers drift to her pantyline, flirting with the idea of going under the fabric. “S’alright. ‘M’used to it.” he slurs, “Where d’ya go when you gotta get away?”

Gigi hasn’t got any fans or a legion of family members but somehow he knows, just knows she’s like him and has to get away. Someone’s always got something to get away from, or least the sensitive ones do.

“I've usually got the track.” she answers

“Hmm.”

“But they don’t bother me. They might bother you.”

“Yeah, s’no to the track. Though I’d like to watch ya run sometime.”

“Really?!”

“Don’t be silly, ‘course I would.”

“I haven’t had anyone come watch me run before.”

“I doubt that, honey.”

“No! Really!”

“Bleachers cleared out whenever you’re up?”

“No! No I mean anyone I know, besides the footballers.”

“Yeah, I bet they show. That’s shitty though, baby. I’m sorry for ya.”

“It’s alright.” she is the one who says it this time, “It’ll be like nothing at all if you really come! Please, please!”

“I done said I would. I will!”

“Aww thank you!”

“Honey, I wanna.” he insists, it’s very important she understand that if her folks haven’t ever once made her feel special like that. Even if he’ll be more like the footballers, come to watch her jugs and tight lil ass bounce down the track. Unlike them though, he’ll make sure to make her know he’s proud of her. He'll reward her real good for it afterwards, too.

His fingers slip under the panty seam. Calloused fingertips swiping along bare and slimy skin, she’s pooling and her slick’s working against gravity she’s so hungry for him. But that ain’t the troubling bit.

“Lord baby, where’s your hair?” he asks her in concern, finding a perfectly bald mound the more he rummages in her drawers. “You not grown any yet?”

Gigi laughs so hard he can feel her belly sucking in with each giggle beneath his forearm. “I shave it, silly. Isn’t it nice?”

“Baby you oughta have hair.” he insists, his hand quite stalled from this development. “Just damn weird for a woman to be posin’ like a lil girl.” Maybe that’s his conscience over the age gap talkin’ but he’s really a bit flustered by it.

“I’ll grow it out for you.” she whimpers, stung again by his rejections and -he really can’t seem to stop hurting her feelings, can he?

“Ok.” he says softly, going back to rubbing her and seeing that it has the intended comforting effect on her, “I’d preee-fer that, Gigi.”

“Ok.”

“Good girl.” Her eyes open at that and if his were too he’d see how happy he just made her, telling her something he’d like, something she can give him, guiding her. It’s new and soothing and thrilling to her all at once and she whines as she starts to thrust her hips up to meet his hand, quickly getting worked up.

“Can we go to your place?” he asks her softly and realizes it's been absolute ages since he had to ask someone that. Usually he’s always got a place to take them, usually they’re inviting him to theirs right away after the initial chit chat about names and weather. That feeling of being young and normal takes over again and it’s saddening how foreign it is.

“Yeah, yeah of course, Tammy’s out too, so we’ll be alone.” Gigi explains through heaving breaths as she doesn’t stop riding his hand as best she can with her leverage disadvantage.

He wants to see her place, he wants to see those records of his that Tammy says she’s got littering her room. He wants to see what Gigi does with a space when it’s hers. He wants to devour her stupid little bald beaver on her college dorm bed.

“Alrigh’ let’s go to yours.”

Tags:

@prompted-wordsmith

@parodsal000

@ab4eva

@stylespresleyhearted

@presleyenterprise

@kendralavon7

@coolgirl462

@colahola

@lillypink

@stephthestallion

@vintageshanny

@landmermaid12

@ashtag2887

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@butlersluvbot

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@lilycherries123

@18lkpeters

@xenaspace3-blog

@lil-mamas-obsessions

@father-of-2cats

@returntopresley

[mistresslrigtar]

Chapter Four - The Adults are Talking

They will blame us, crucify, and shame us. - The Strokes

Summary: There’s trouble in paradise. A scandalous article, an irate father, mortified Zelda, and distraught Link.

(I particularly like this chapter title because even though Zelda and Link are adults, they’re treated like children who get caught with their hands in the cookie jar. If only that’s all that happened 😅)

Excerpt:

“A public beach!” Rauru’s sea green eyes are dark and stormy when he looks back at Zelda. They actually remind her of the Necluda sea and the irony isn’t lost on her. “Our intelligent, summa cum laude daughter doesn’t have the sense the goddess gave her.”

Zelda’s cheeks flame and she wishes she were anywhere but in this stuffy car. She presses the button to lower the window and let in some fresh air, but it won’t budge. Child-locked no doubt.

Her stomach churns. She's an adult, not a child. “It was a remote location where we never saw a soul the entire time we were there!”

“How could you? You were too distracted to notice anything!” Rauru lifts the lid off an ice bucket and drops a few chunks of ice in a cut crystal highball glass before roughly pulling out a matching decanter of Gerudo Highland brandy. He gives himself a generous pour and knocks it back in one swallow. “I blame that Link. Clearly, he’s a bad influence on you. I tried to give him the benefit of the doubt and look where it’s gotten you? My daughter—a pin-up!”

“Rauru.” Sonia’s soft voice breaks through the tension. Her face, however, remains impassive and Zelda decides that surely is far worse than her father’s tirade. That’s to be expected. She’s his only daughter and pride and joy. She can’t imagine what it must have been like to see her in her altogether. “Yelling does little good. It’s been done and there’s nothing for it but to try to weather the storm.”

How Zelda wishes her mother would wrap her arms around her and tell her everything is going to be alright. It seems Sonia can’t even bring herself to look at Zelda, and keeps her focus solely on her father who looks like he wants to wring someone’s neck—probably Link’s.

The rest is available in AO3! This story is E-rated, but truly there’s more plot than spice.

[owlespresso]

BEST FF14 CHARACTERS TO EAT BRUNCH WITH

Hythlodaeus - this guy LOVES a sangria before noon. pleasant vibes and good conversation. king of shoving slices of banana bread onto your plate. he offers you a bite of his food from his fork and is all sweet about it.

Aymeric - probably refrains from any alcohol consumption because he plans to get back to work after, but he has a sizeable variety of teas and enough birch syrup for the both of you. he wants to hear about your life and what you've been doing and is totally engrossed in what u have to say. makes u feel seen over your eggs benedict.

Thancred - is my wife so im bringing him. he knows all the good places to go and has scouted ahead accordingly.

Ameliance - she hand crafted the menu to your tastes. the ultimate hostess. also has all of the interesting gossip about every member of the forum. there's no pressure to follow stuffy etiquette. is just a very good time.

Erenville - he probably brought in like half the ingredients that the kitchen is using and will tell you about all of the foreign foods he's tasted. has an endless amount of stories from all over eorzea to entertain you with.

Emmanellain - he REALLY knows his wines and brandies and fine dining and he has ALL the interesting Ishgardian gossip. He might be a little too eager to impress but it's kind of sweet. genuinely tries to be an impressive host.

WORST FF14 CHARACTERS TO EAT BRUNCH WITH

Emet-Selch - There's a pressure to make good, intellectual and entertaining conversation AND pressure to make good choices in what you order. If you order a bottle of wine that costs less than a small housing plot, he's side-eyeing you. if this was real housewives he would be causing a stir and inciting conflict, making it impossible to enjoy the food.

Estinien - bro orders the most expensive item on the menu while on YOUR dime. send him out to forage instead.

Nero - utterly insufferable. THIS is the real evil housewife of Garlemald. brunch table becomes a battleground of wit and warfare.

Urianger - if you have a hard time understanding him already, just WAIT until he is wasted on his 7th sangria. very sweet otherwise but sometimes requires supervision.

[apamates]

Realm of the elderlings ask meme thing

Thanks for tagging me @khutsydoh !! I love thinking about my favorite wet dog of a man

Favourite Rote book: Fool's Errand

Why: I'm a romantic at heart, ngl. The domestic bliss, walks on the beach, late night talks sipping brandy by the fireplace, the Fool reading everything Fitz had written (!!!!! I can't think too much about that one without wanting to explode), Fitz getting every surface of his house lovingly carved by the Fool... Just the truly incredible way Fitz described that bubble of happiness and feeling whole (even if he was still forged!!!) just because the Fool was there with him and Nighteyes. I love it when a character is the most repressed being ever and the love still bursts through because it's just that strong.

After every awful thing that happened in Ass Quest, I definitely think Fitz deserved a time away from the Farseers to rest and find himself outside of all the roles he had to perform for the crown. Though, 15 years in nearly complete isolation except for Hap and Starling are a strech, he really was running away from life like the Fool said. Him coming back to Buckkeep and facing all the people from his childhood as an adult felt so amazing to read. I personally feel a lot for Fitz and his complicated relationships with his family. For him to meet Chade honestly and make him see how much he hurt him was !!!! Him hating Dutiful at first just bc he saw so much of himself as a kid in him and tbf Dutiful is a tangible reminder of all the trauma from his teenager years, so Fitz having to process all that was exquisite too.

Funniest mission ever to have to find a teenager that's unknowingly horny for a cat, but the Fool and Fitz can turn it into a secret identity rom com and I ate it up!!! Happiest book of the trilogy for me and it's because Fitz was happy to be near the Fool.

Top three favourite characters: Beloved in all their facets, Patience, Ronica

Top three least favourite characters: Regal, the Satrap, Civil

Favourite ship of the floating kind: Ophelia bc she's an agent of chaos

Top 3 ships of the people kind: Fitzloved, Althea and Jek (Robin Hobb really missed so much potential), Patience and Lacey

Would you rather be witted or skilled: Skilled

If you were witted, what animal would you bond with: Probably my cat bc we already spend nearly every hour of the day together.

Would you rather live in the Outislands, the Mountain Kingdom, the Six duchies, Bingtown, the Rain wilds, Kelsingra, Jamailia, the Pirate isles or Mercenia/Fool's homeland?: I haven't read the Fitz and The Fool trilogy so idk if I'd like Kelsingra but the Six Duchies seem like the better option just because I hate stuffy society and the cold, which rules out all others.

How were you introduced to the books: I love Chihayafuru and a wonderful artist I followed for that fandom posts about ROTE. I got the sense I would love to suffer about it and asked about the right order to read the books, thank you @leafykat !!!

Share a quote you love:

As I entered to set the pack on my table, the wolf was sprawled before the fire drying his damp fur and the Fool was stepping around him to set a kettle on the hook. I blinked my eyes, and for an instant I was back in the Fool’s hut in the Mountains, healing from my old injury while he stood between the world and me that I might rest. Then as now he created reality around himself, bringing order and peace to a small island of warm firelight and the simple smell of hearth bread cooking. He swung his pale eyes to meet mine, the gold of them mirroring the firelight. Light ran up his cheekbones and dwindled as it merged with his hair. I gave my head a small shake. “In the space of a sundown, you show me the wide world from a horse’s back, and the soul of the world within my own walls.” “Oh, my friend,” he said quietly. No more than that needed to be said. We are whole. - Fool's Errand

Sometimes a family is just two guys and their matchmaker wolf y'know

Tagging: @yevrosima-the-third @mistninja @leafykat

[brandycranby]

behold, a frend!!! pigeon frend here!!!

PIGEON SON!!! 🥺🫶🏻💕 he shall be steve the pigeon, after my insane steve turns into a bird plot bunny

[magicofsimplestories]

0. Introductions

The land of Pleasantview. It’s hard to find a person, who doesn’t dream of building a career in one of its shiny skyscrapers, moving into a cozy house of its calm suburbans and taking a stroll in between the peaceful greenery of its vast parks. But is there something more to it? Is there something that is hidden behind this polished image of ultimate happiness and breathtaking success? Is there something that never leaves the borders of the neighborhood stories? 

Not So Pleasant

They’ve always seemed to be an exemplary family: famous football player Daniel with his successful business lady Mary-Sue and their twin-princesses Angela, the bright mind, and Lilith, the creative soul.

So when Daniel moved out unexpectedly the neighborhood of Willow Creek couldn’t let the case without digging. Soon enough the rumours of Daniel cheating on Mary started to spread, and the exemplary image was left shattered in pieces.

What other secrets keep the Pleasants? And will Mary ever be able to trust a man again?

Broken Souls

Brandi never regretted leaving the luxury of her parents behind in order to move in with her high school sweetheart Skip Broke. She had no other choice. Her parents planned a shiny academic future for her, so they would never allow their 18-year-old daughter to keep her and Skip’s baby. 

The Brokes traveled enough around Pleasantview, with Skip doing his best to provide for his wife and his little son Dustin. After a long time of moving around, Skip has found a permanent job at the Landgraab facility and the family has finally been able to settle down in a tiny trailer house in one of the modest corners of Willow Creek. That’s where they had their second son, cutie Beau. And that’s where Brandi has lost her Skip to a “tragic and mysterious facility accident”. 

Will Brandi be able to raise her sons alone? And what troubles will Dustin get into while trying to deal with his heavy loss?

A Fresh Start

After months of unsuccessful attempts to conceive their second child, Leo and Lina have come to a conclusion that a calm suburban area might be the solution to their difficulty. So they changed the stuffy San Myshuno Business Quarter to the Copperdale fresh air, leaving Leo whining from time to time about spending a whole hour daily to get to his office and back. 

To Lina’s mind, apart from the fresh air there were more bonuses that Copperdale has offered her family. The local high school has always been famous for gifting its students a lucky ticket to the best universities of the countries, and Lina couldn’t dream of a better opportunity for her eldest daughter from the previous marriage Nina. 

On top of that, Copperdale was significantly further from San Sequoia, making Nina spend much less time with her rock-star father Niel Dwyer. 

But will the distance help Lina get rid of Niel’s troublesome and careless influence on Nina? And will Copperdale finally become Lina's and Leo’s family happiness corner? 

[Next]

---

Vikie’s notes: With my recent nostalgia about The Sims 2 lore, I’ve been dreaming of creating TS2 world in The Sims 4. Apparently it has already been done by violetpixels in the TS2 to TS4 Uberhood save file.

Currently I’m focused on the two iconic TS2 families - the Pleasants and the Brokes, along with my Gross-Dwyer family whom I decided to give a fresh start after I had lost any interest in going on with “My Willow Creek Teens” story. However, later on I might add a couple of other preexisting TS2 households to the “Neighbourhood Stories” (with proper introductions, of course).

[creacherkeeper]

lost township: the homegame

howdy yall :D i made a post like this a while ago that very much needed to be updated and i simply talk about and tag characters from lost township a lot so i wanted to have an easy place to reference for what in the hell im talking about and something to throw at people when i want to infodump. so!!

the game:

lost township is a d&d homegame set in a fictionalized, magical 1880s wild west. its set in the american-equivalent country the democracy of silver and includes all of the magic that we know from typical d&d games. it's based in the town of lost, in the state of undersun, sandwiched between harsh deserts and the mountains

the pcs:

cass bluebell - she/her - human drunken master monk - played by @strangetorpedos

cass is the owner of the saloon in lost and mother to adopted 6 year old davey. she's stoic, fair, and always just a little too weary for all the things on her plate. she took over the saloon about 5 years ago after the murder of her mother by the mysterious assassin the brownbird, and spent years trying to solve the murder to no avail (until recently). middle aged repressed lesbian on main, didn't sign up for this shit - art

divine shook - she/her - aasimar eloquence bard + oath of the bear paladin - played by @masculinepeacock

divine is the schoolteacher in lost and lives with her wife sarah and brother-in-law hawk. former southern belle of the rich intervention family, now barely scraping by as the breadwinner of the household. chronically babygirl coded, ultimate bambi lesbian. is the angel of the deer god of poetry but currently follows the bear god of fire and families and talks to her god like she's her mom (she is in their hearts). currently dating(?) sheriff lizzie - tag

maeve marigold - she/her - kalashtar psychopomp sorcerer - played by kaity

maeve is a former sex worker turned recently hired psychopomp of the raven queen, soon to be doing the psychopomp thing full time. she always has the most insane response possible no matter what the question was and does not know how to read. she also did not know what a psychopomp was when she agreed to be one. is currently under the tutelage of latrowe, the raven queen's current psychopomp, and has been being plagued by dreams and nightmares she knows aren't her own

morel - they/them - firbolg knowledge cleric / spores druid - played by @floralprintshark

morel is the local witch doctor and prophet of the god of fungi and decay. lived on the outskirts of lost for many years, providing free healthcare to the vulnerable townsfolk who weren't safe with the town's stuffy doctor. after pining for years, finally in a relationship with cat after the "unfortunate" murder of her former husband, and jointly raising her daughter kitten and their mysteriously delivered baby juniper. goth sad cow - tag

onion - they/he/she - fey shepherd druid / fey wanderer ranger - played by @paladinbaby

onion is a smuggler and deliverer of changelings who was introduced to the party with the task of safely transporting them from lost to the neighboring state. he's Fey Neurodivergent and a bit of a grumpy messy dyke (gender neutral) who doesn't have a ton of connections but cares about his people very deeply. chosen family with waylon squad and best friends with brandi - tag

will orville - he/him - werewolf gunslinger fighter - played by @punkbarbarian

will is an "investigator" (mercenary) who was brought to town under instructions to find and kill the brownbird and then ended up staying because he is a big old sad puppydog who needed to learn to love again and is. he is so so autism dad on main and cries at the drop of a hat (affectionate). currently dating scruggs, the first relationship he's been in since his husband was killed 13 years ago - tag

the npcs:

brandi carlile "the brownbird" - she/he - aasimar wild card rogue + arcane archer fighter + vengeance paladin

white hat assassin and angel of the jackalope god of chaos and death. her father was the singular prophet of her god who was responsible for raising the jack to godhood until he was assassinated when she was a young child. now she kills mostly bad men, mostly other followers of the jack. despite that he's both very excitable and very wet n pathetic babygirl hours and pretty much just wants to be cared for. long-time best friends with onion and in a Situationship (derogatory) with lizzie - tag

sarah shook - she/they - human wildfire druid

divine's wife and hawk's sister, golden retriever wife guy on main always. excitable, loving, intensely adhd, spends their time gardening, talking folks ears off at the market, and reading smutty books with her wife. refuses to process any of her childhood and she's so normal about it. has a bear cub made of fire named honeysuckle that she was gifted by the bear god. currently making eye emojis at morel and cat - tag

hawk shook - he/him - human wild magic artificer

sarah's brother and divine's brother in law. trying his best but unfortunately his best is not great, fiercely protective and caring but not good at the whole adulting thing. so far unsuccessful at holding down a job but is now working (hopefully long term) for cass at the saloon. slutty, gay, too autistic for his own good. was the originator of the plan for him, sarah, and divine to leave their homestate and find a new place to live after working for divine's awful parents for years - tag

cat clyde stevens - she/her - orc life cleric

former wife of bobby clyde, now partnered with morel, mother of half orc kitten and newly adoptive mother of baby juniper. married bobby and had kitten very young, and was mistreated for years before developing a relationship with morel and finally gathering the courage to call the brownbird and have her kill bobby. shy, nervous, very caring, new to the cleric thing - tag

lizzie no - she/her - coyote shifter crown paladin

former big city reporter, currently the sheriff of lost. protective, prickly, observant, and more than a little neurotic. bitchy dyke fr fr. religious trauma on main. managed to make it to lost after getting shot and got adopted and taken care of by waylon. now sister to kelsey and scruggs. has been in love with divine for Years and is not quite sure what to do now that theyre A Thing. in a Situationship (derogatory) with brandi, and is former friends, almost lovers, enemies, to somethings, queerplatonic idiots with onion (they'll figure it out,,,) - tag

earl scruggs - he/him - orc tundra storm herald barbarian

former child criminal and enemy of the state turned refugee, now waylons "bodyguard" (read: gets paid to do fuckall). big burly russian man, chronic big brother disease, gentle giant who loves to cook and be silly. tboy swag. has to keep up a reputation around town for being mean and tough but is way more emotionally intelligent and caring than most people give him credit for. currently in Some Sort Of Relationship with will (read: they uhauled and haven't talked about it) - tag

kelsey wilson - they/them - changeling inquisitive rogue

delivered to waylon at age 5 by onion after their parents died, now his secretary but actually just professional babiest sibling. so incredibly autism creature, goth lolita stan always, very anxious about interacting with anyone outside their family so simply Doesn't. does not want to grow up because of The Circumstances TM and so keeps themself young using fey magic which is unfortunately giving them chronic fatigue. kind of a bitch - tag

waylon jennings - he/him - zombie, former lore bard

former professional muse, now the benefactor of lost. bitchy old gay man, doing his best to take care of his kids even if isn't always a peaceful house. got turned into a zombie during an outbreak but somehow managed to keep his consciousness and a little of his magic. has been friends with onion for decades but as he's gotten older has come to view her more like a daughter - tag

latrowe - he/him - coyote psychopomp

used to be just a regular coyote, got chosen by morel's god to be a gift to the raven queen and become her psychopomp. showed up in maeve's dreams for a while and is now in the process of training her to be the new psychopomp cause he really misses being. just a dog. very formal and stoic when he's not eating out of your trash, fights with a cool glowing dagger

roo panes - he/him - tiefling scribes wizard

a religious researcher who was supposed to be cataloguing the pantheons of the democracy but ended up parking in lost for a while to study the jack (autism special interest alert). ultimate nerd, way too talkative, twink who's one stiff breeze away from having his bi awakening. currently has a puppy crush on kelsey and hasn't put together that's why scruggs is mean to him

the gods:

ama - she/her - bear god of fire, families, and the home - worshiped by divine and cat, divine is her paladin ata - he/him - bison god of food, families, and the home - worshipped by sarah dakota - he/him - deer god of poetry, beauty, and magic - divine is his aasimar the jack - no pronouns - jackalope god of death, chaos, trickery, survival, and alcohol - worshiped by many townsfolk in lost, including cass's late mother, brandi is the jack's only aasimar kathairein - they/them - vulture god of fungi, decay, and disease - morel is their prophet nidaash - they/them - salmon god of sex, transformation, and journeys the raven queen - she/her - raven god of life and death, knowledge, divination, and the moon - maeve and latrowe are her psychopomps sidewinder - he/him - rattlesnake god of protection, safety, medicine, and the sun - lizzie is his paladin

ship tags:

divine/sarah divine/lizzie lizzie/brandi lizzie/onion will/scruggs + 2

[fullofvexation]

A lil something for everyone! :D Haven- A13, K6 Nona Paloma- A2, L2 Roka- F2, C8 Kittiwake Tern- F11, B9 Edmond Du Bogue- A24, D4

Ahh thank you for asking about my characters!!! Yippee!

I'm putting a readmore here cus there's a lot of them! Anyone who reads all of these you're my new bff now I am weeping and crying

Haven

a13. Does your OC have any phobias? If so, where did they come from?

Haven is terrified of getting wet and water! He's an undead guy who was mummified when we has first killed, and he's very afraid that he'll start to rot if he gets wet. He doesn't know how to swim and avoids boats and any sort of water at all costs.

k6. Does their paranormal aspect cause issues in daily life? If so, how do they feel about it?

Even within the fantasy world where he lives, Haven is "paranormal" in that he's undead, and looks like a desiccated corpse. This causes him issues in his daily life because the undead are generally feared and hated, so he's always hiding that, mostly by wearing clothes that hide the huge hole in his chest and a mask that hides his lack of eyes. He's got complicated feelings about his situation, but generally dislikes it. He's very aware that he's ugly and monstrous, and still trying to decide whether he is a monster or not, and generally struggles to accept his situation.

Nimona-Paloma Charrata aka Nona

a2. What alignment are they? Chaotic neutral, lawful evil, et cetera…

Nona is chaotic neutral! She generally acts this way due to being deeply and consistently out of touch with what is normal and acceptable, and what's going on in general. She is offputting and nosy and generally just does whatever she wants, in a way that's very childish and clueless.

l2. What do you consider the biggest themes in your character, if any?

Nona's whole concept is based around the idea of an NPC suddenly granted PC-style capabilities and agency. She spent her whole existence standing outside her house asking passersby to help her with tasks before suddenly acquiring magical powers and getting thrown into the life of an adventurer. Nona's main themes are being a fish out of water and needing to learn how exist as a person! It's tough to know how to be someone when you've never had to make any choices for yourself or interacted with anyone in a meaningful way.

Roka

f2. What’s their ideal home look like? Where is it?

Roka's ideal home is the one she currently lives in with her wife and daughter! After losing everyone she knew when her community was destroyed and a series of pretty traumatic events in the fallout of that, all she wants is her new start, and in this case, that looks like a little house with a few apple trees located in a small village.

c8. Is your OC more practical or ideal morally?

Roka is a deeply practical person. As a young woman, she was raised to be a priestess in a death cult and did things out of a deep sense of moral righteousness. When she realized her goddess wasn't real and her religion was a manipulation tactic to convince people to sacrifice each other, she fully threw all that out of the window. She became someone who twists her morals to achieve her goals, and is convinced that her goals justify her actions, even if those include being cruel or manipulative or violent.

Prof. Kittiwake Tern

f11. What are some of their favorite things to do for recreation?

Kittiwake Tern is a stuffy and proper man who's sense of fun has been generally shredded by years of being in academia (and being the pawn of a malevolent arctic being). In his free time, he likes to read books that would be impressive to people if anyone asked him what he was reading, and drink tea (if he's having a good day) or brandy (if he's having a bad one).

b9. What kind of humor does your OC like the most?

Kittiwake Tern does not approve of humor in general, though he does enjoy a well thought out play on words, or any sort of comedy that's appropriately literary.

Edmond Du Bogue

a24. What are some of your OC’s biggest personal obstacles?

Edmond wants to be a folk hero knight, but he's a sheltered 20 year old rich boy who's leaving the house for the first time. His biggest obstacles are that he has zero experience with "real life" (or anything else) and that it isn't much like all those novels he read growing up. He's working to get that experience, though sometime, he isn't sure he really wants it...

d4. Would they like to be immortal? Why, why not?

Edmond wouldn't particularly like being immortal. He's very concerned with his life and practical problems, and the idea of being immortal would absolutely stress him out to an impossible degree. Edmond is a very small fish who is just now realizing that he's in an ocean, not a pond, and the last thing he needs right now is for the scope of things to get bigger and more complicated.

[rancidpancakebatter]

tasm!peter parker

like honestly i’m not sure how to exactly set this up, but like a mini series of like a friends to lovers but the reader already has been in a relationship for like three years or something and she finally realizes that her partner isn’t really fulfilling the role of her partner in the relationship and seeks out help from peter and gwen ? idk i just thought this quote from my favorite movie would fit that, like she should try to make her relationship work or just end it ? idk you know i love you so we’ll see what happens next, i’ll love any direction you’d want to approach it with ! 😊💗🫶🏼🫶🏼

🎥: before we go

brooke dalton:
it’s possible, isn't it? it’s possible that you could meet somebody who's perfect for you even though you're committed to somebody else.

nick vaughan:
no, no, see, i think if you're committed to somebody, you don't allow yourself to find perfection in someone else.

Another Way to Fly-[P.P.] | Chapter One

Pairing: TASM!college!Peter Parker x female!college!reader

 Summary: You've been dating Harry Osborne for three years. You love him...but maybe not as much as you once did. Maybe not enough.

AU Where Norman isn’t as sick- he’s just an asshole- and Gwen doesn’t go to Oxford. Harry is functioning as an apprentice at Oscorp (He graduated with a master's in two years because of his studying abroad). You, Peter, and Gwen are all seniors at ESU. Because Norman isn’t dying the whole “Goblin” thing is scratched from the record so Peter and Harry are besties.

Word Count: 3.8k

Content Warnings: Swearing, Drinking (Of age), Skeezy men, Blatant objectification of reader, Norman Osborne (I dunno if that's really a warning but like he's gross and a terrible father so I'm listing it)

Previous | | Next

A/N: So sorry this took so long @scorpiolystoned! I got caught up in a lot of stuff and it took a second but the first chapter is FINALLY HERE! I'm having fun with this one :))

You were at yet another fundraiser in yet another gown that cost more than your monthly rent, talking to yet another stuffy old man who felt the need to make his opinion known. You smiled politely as he continued to tell you how your generation's greatest issue was a lack of work ethic, which was rich coming from a man who inherited his ten-million-dollar mansion upstate. You were on your third glass of champagne and considering getting a brandy instead. Anything that might make this conversation less painful. 

Normally you would have no issue telling him off- rattling off about the lies sold to the working class by the privileged elite- but alas, you were here with your boyfriend, and you couldn’t taint his reputation. Harry would be inheriting Oscorp one day and would need these men to like him to keep it running. So you bit your tongue and plastered on a fake smile. 

You said nothing about how insane they all sounded. You said nothing about the racist comments they made about their housekeepers. You said nothing about the skeezy comments they would make about you. You said nothing, because here: women are trophies, not people. 

You hated going to these events but you loved Harry. You knew he didn’t like them much either, constantly having to defend his capability and intelligence to men who claim he’s just an idiot boy with a well-respected father.

He asked you to come to keep him sane. However, he was nowhere to be seen. There was no one to save you from this creepy man asking if college was really the right move because it would be better to settle down, “it would be a shame to waste all that beauty.” 

You politely excused yourself and made your way to the bar. One benefit of snobby, elitist parties: open bars. You ordered something top-shelf and strong while you fished your phone from your clutch. You sent out a text to Harry letting him know where you were and asking him to come back to your side. You sat there for an hour, nursing your second drink, until he came back. 

“Hey babe, sorry about that. My dad reintroduced me to some shareholders and I couldn’t get away.” He gave you a peck on the lips and he sat down next to you. 

You rested your head on his shoulder and his arm draped over the back of your shoulders.

“I’m sorry, I’m sure you’re more than ready to leave.” You told him you were and he nodded. 

As he looked at his watch he sucked his teeth. “If we leave now it’ll be too soon. Can you hang in another hour?” 

You pouted at him and he leaned into you, “I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

You shivered as he kissed just below your ear. He placed his hands in yours as his kisses started trailing lower. 

“Okay, okay. You win.” A smile stretched across his face and you swatched his chest. “But you better not abandon me again. I mean it, Osborn.”

He playfully winces as he stands from his chair, “Ooh, last name. She’s serious.”

He gave you another peck on the lips, “I promise.” 

And with that, you let him lead you back into the horde. 

You made small talk and you played the role of a doting, hype man. To be fair, you didn’t really have to fake that. You loved Harry. It wasn’t hard to gush about his accomplishments, you were immensely proud of him. However you had to format your adoration differently for this crowd, and you hated that. 

An hour turned into two, which turned into three. Eventually, you pulled him aside and told him you were ready to go. You felt gross and emotionally exhausted. Harry said he still couldn’t leave but looking at your face he knew you were done.

He called you a cab and told you he would see you later. You hated leaving without him but understood. After a shower, you got ready for bed. You tried to stay up for him but the drinks you had made your eyes heavy and soon you were drifting off to sleep. 

You woke up the next morning in an empty bed. You checked your phone to see Harry had texted you. 

“I went home with my father last night. Have a good day of classes.” You pushed away the sadness you felt and sent him a text saying you would, asking if you would see him today. 

You got up and ready and made your way to a cafe just off campus. Every Monday, you went to Cafè Luna and met up with your friends before class. It was a lovely tradition that began about a year ago when you all discussed how abhorrent you found Mondays. This was a good way to make sure everyone started off on a good note. 

You pulled at the glass door and were greeted by the smell of cocoa, butter, sugar, bread, and coffee. A mix that always made you happy. You got in line, pondering what kind of breakfast you wanted today. You could go for the classic breakfast sandwich, or possibly a sweet treat would brighten your mood more. You decided on both, knowing Gwen would split whatever confectionary you got. 

As you got to the counter, you gave the cashier your order and handed her Harry’s card. You grabbed a table while you waited for your order to be called out. Just then, two of your three favourite people walked in. You smiled as Gwen waved, rushing towards you to wrap you in a hug. She kissed you on the cheek before separating. Peter beamed at you as well and enveloped you in a firm hug.

You would never tell anyone, but he was the best hugger in the group by far. He always hugged with just enough strength to make you feel warm and safe but not enough to hurt or feel trapped. 

Once in your unofficial seating chart, Peter looks around the shop. “Where’s Harry?” 

You force a smile, trying not to let your own disappointment show. “He’s at his dad’s. I’m not sure he’s gonna make it today.”

Peter huffed, letting his lips flap together at the end. “Bummer, I was hoping to see ole Harr-Harr.”

You nodded in understanding, wishing for the same. You couldn’t get too lost in your thoughts as you heard your name called from across the cafe. 

You stood from your chair, “Sorry guys, I already ordered. I was pretty hungry.”

They both reassured you that it was fine. Peter stood from the table as well. “I’ll go get in line.” 

He kissed Gwen on the forehead before walking across the store with you. You grabbed your food and headed back to the table. You placed your cinnamon roll between you and Gwen and passed her a fork.

She feigned innocence, claiming she couldn’t possibly take your food, but eventually gave in when you pointed out how big it was. This was a local shop, and they made all their baked goods in huge sizes. The cinnamon roll between you was almost as big as your hand. 

Peter soon returned with his and Gwen’s orders. Gwen thanked him with a kiss on the cheek as Peter casually draped his arm around her. You smiled at the couple and the domesticity they displayed. It was sweet. 

“So,” Gwen asked pulling you from your thoughts, “How was your weekend?” 

You told her about how you spent most of it preparing for Oscorp's last fundraiser. Norman did a fundraiser once a month, cycling through different organizations and causes.

Last night was for Cerebral Palsy. There was a giant check for a cool million dollars on display in the Osborn name. You hated that charity was thrown around in this way, as a power grab, but you guess there are worst things they could do with their money. 

Because of Harry’s absence this morning your friends could sympathise with you openly. 

“Yikes, I don’t miss those.”

“How many guys commented on your dress?”

You chuckled, “Yeah Pete, you’re real lucky and only two men commented on my dress. However, three commented on my hips, and six on how beautiful I was.”

Gwen grimaced while Peter looked between the two of you, confused. “I don’t understand. Being called beautiful is bad?” He looked directly at Gwen, “Should I not call you that anymore?”

She chuckles and places a hand over his heart. You watch Peter physically calm at the act. “No, but there’s a certain way in which some men say that doesn’t really mean ‘you’re beautiful.’”

“It means, ‘I see you as a sex object and I am imagining having sex with you right now as we are talking.’” You helpfully supplied. 

Gwen raised a finger and pointed it at you with a look of “she’s right.” Peter scrunched up his face in disgust. 

“Ew, men are pigs.” You both hummed in agreeance as you tore into your breakfast sandwich. 

They told you of their weekend: Dinner at Mays and a nice night in. You tried not to be jealous. You wished that you could do that sort of stuff with Harry. He always wanted to go out, spend money, be seen. You wished that your attention was enough. 

You almost got lost in your conversation about work when you caught a glimpse of your phone on the table. You usually kept it in your purse, but you were hoping to get a message from Harry. 

“Oh shit! Sorry, I gotta run or I’ll be late for class.” You gathered your stuff and hugged your friends goodbye. 

This was a nice tradition, you thought. Your Monday definitely felt a lot better. 

You walked out of your last class and sent another text to Harry. He still hadn’t replied to your earlier one from this morning. 

“Hey! Missed you at Luna’s today. I’m on my way home.”

You didn’t officially live with Harry, but you might as well. For the past four months, you spent almost every night there. He had made space for you and your things. You had your products in the bathroom and your snacks in the cupboard. Really you only went home for more clothes or if he was busy with work. You knew he appreciated his space when he was working. 

As you sat on the subway, you tapped your foot to the beat of the music pumping in your headphones while considering what you would make for dinner tonight, what Harry would want to eat. You scrolled through Pinterest to form ideas. 

When you got to the lobby, the doorman greeted you as always. You had given Harry a key to your place ages ago, and in return, he added you to his “list”.

Harr lived in a very expensive Manhatten penthouse, and with its security and staff, you couldn’t enter without him. He didn’t really use a key because he had a private elevator. So instead, he registered you with the building so you could come and go as you please. 

When you exited the elevator you called out for him, but it seemed he wasn’t home. You dropped off your stuff and took shower. You loved his shower. The water pressure was amazing and the water never got cold.

As you stepped out you wrapped yourself in his robe and reapplied your makeup in the mirror. Your hair was still wrapped in product, being shaped just right, when you started getting dressed.

Harry still hadn’t texted you back but that wasn’t unheard of. He often got caught up in his work. You knew it could be stressful for him though and you wanted him to come back home to no worries. You put on his favourite lingerie set and one of his dress shirts. You twirled and posed in the mirror, feeling quite good about yourself. 

He would be home in about three hours which gave you time to make something for dessert too. You rummage around the fridge and decide on homemade gnocchi, served with a white cheese sauce, asparagus, and buttered scallops. For dessert, you think, a simple fruit tart.

You get to work juggling various doughs and many burners. When you had a minute, you set the table and picked out a red wine that you thought would pair well with the dish. You wanted to arrange flowers for the table, but unfortunately, you didn’t have any, and you didn’t want to risk losing time getting dressed and running down the block. 

The penthouse smelled fantastic, and you were proud of your work. You had been dancing around a playlist comprised of “American Standards”. Your hips swayed to the likes of Etta James, Nat King Cole, Bobby Darin, and Doris Day as you made sure everything looked perfect. You missed Harry today and hoped this would put him in a good mood. 

You heard your name being called into the space and your feet carried you to the source. Your smile was grand as you jumped onto your toes to throw your arms around his neck. You buried your face into him, conscious of your makeup. 

“Hey, Harr-Bear! I missed you!” His arms slowly wrapped around you, but the hold felt foreign. 

“Uh, yeah, me too.” He stepped away from you, and his brow furrowed as he looked you over.

“What are you wearing?” Your fingers fiddled with the hem of the shirt, suddenly feeling small. 

“I…I know you like it when I wear your clothes, and I- I just thought that maybe you had a hard day, so I wanted to- to surprise you.” Harry looked more than stressed, he looked scared. 

He opened his mouth a few times, but nothing came out. His hand came up to his hair as he looked around. 

“(Y/n), I need you to-”

The elevator door opened, and it was too late. The warning he tried to give you was futile as you saw an all too familiar face walk into the room. 

Oh shit.

His dad. 

He wore a smile you hesitate to call forced. To force a smile, you must put effort into it, but in Norman’s endless quest to evade age- death, really- he had gotten a lot of work done. This resulted in a permanent crooked smile, and brows that looked just a little too high. You had no issue with people getting cosmetic surgery; whatever makes you feel more comfortable, ya know?

But you did have a problem with Norman Osborn. And you had a huge issue with him seeing you in your current state. Panic. Full blown panic. All you can think is “hide!” So you do.

“The scallops!” You ran back to the kitchen as the smell of them roasting wafted through the air. 

As you hastily flip them, you look down at your “outfit”. The shirt you picked was thin, almost sheer, making the black set you wore underneath entirely obvious. You might as well be running around naked.

The only way to get to Harry’s room is to cross the living room and run up the stairs, but that means you would have to pass Norman, who is no doubt, doing his surveillance of Harry’s space- being sure to throw in as many passive aggressive comments about his son’s life and design choices. 

“Smells delicious in here. Did you cook, Harold?” You hate when he calls him that, and so does Harry. It’s just another reminder that he will never be his own achievements, only his name. 

You look across the stove. There isn’t enough there for three. You wished Harry had mentioned bringing his father back with him. You would have prepared better.

You considered, for a moment, ducking into the pantry and just waiting for him to leave. He would never need to know you were here. But he probably heard your exclamation and saw you run. Hiding wasn’t much of an option. 

“Oh, well hello (L/n).” You felt your blood run cold. 

Slowly you turned to see Norman just in the threshold of the kitchen. His forced smile is now a smirk that makes you nauseous as his eyes trail over your body. 

“Dr Osborn.” You try to sound respectful, but it comes out curter than you intended. 

Harry is standing behind him, always in his shadow. His eyes were wide, full of shock and horror. 

“Is that what you’re planning to wear for dinner?” He still had yet to make eye contact, and it took all of your strength not to curl up in a ball and hide from his gaze. 

“I-No, I uh. I’m sorry I wasn’t expecting you. I was just about to change, but I didn’t want anything to burn.” You try to smile as you start pulling things off the burners. 

“Harrold, man the stove so your girlfriend can change into something that doesn’t look like it was made for a costume in an adult film.”

Only then does Harry jump into action to save you. He awkwardly enters behind his father, who doesn’t move to let him by, and grabs the tongs from your hand.

Your feet carry you quickly across the polished hardwood, and once on the stairs, you can feel Norman’s eyes on you. You pull the shirt down, a feeble attempt to cover your ass, but it doesn’t do much. When you finally close the door behind you, you feel like crying. This was so humiliating. 

You hate Norman. He’s so gross and has no problem ogling you (in anything you wear) while talking down to you. He was never much of a fan of yours.

You didn’t come from money, going up poor in Brooklyn. You weren’t a super genius. You weren’t even interested in science. When you first met Harry, you didn’t even know who he was, but obviously, you only liked him for his money. Norman had more than once commented on the idea of a prenup. 

The first time Harry introduced you to his father, it felt more like an interrogation. He grilled you on your studies and your prospects, and your past. Any answer you gave left him with his scowl well in place. Harry didn’t offer much comfort, but you quickly realised that Norman also made Harry upset, just in a very different way.

He held a lot of contempt for his father. He told you about how he shipped him off for school and never reached out. He didn’t like him, that was for sure, but he ran the chequebook. He ran the business Harry thought was his birthright, but Norman is a calloused narcissist, and Harry knows if he pisses him off too much, he’ll give the company to someone else, just out of spite. 

You put on an agreeable dress Harry had bought for occasions such as these. Dating Harry came with its own culture, in a way. Most of it revolves around a walk-in closet. This was a casual dinner, but in respect for the calibre of the guest you have to dress up a bit. But not too much. Additionally, it's an evening affair, so a certain colour pallet is in order.

This was a black sundress from some Italian import you couldn’t pronounce. Dainty straps rested on your shoulders, and the hem fell just above your knees. It had a modest V cut, and Harry had instructed you to always wear it with jewellery lest you look bare. You selected a thin gold chain with a small heart pendant, a gift for your first anniversary, and subtle hoops to match. You threw half of your hair up in a clip, and slipped on some black heels to go with it, the stark red on the tread peeking out with every step you took. 

As you made your way back downstairs, they were deep in conversation. You nervously joined Harry’s side, and he wrapped an arm around your waist. Norman commented on how you “clean up nice,” and you had to swallow the bile creeping up your throat to thank him. 

Norman made a comment in regards to what a terrible host you were, “I’ve been here nearly thirty minutes, and no one’s offered me a drink.”

While he said “no one”, which could be either you or Harry, you knew he meant you. You hadn’t served him yet. Harry tenses at the comment, and you quickly try to correct the mistake. You step away to the bar cart to fix Norman a whiskey with one large ice cube and make the same for Harr. Only Harry thanks you as you bring them back.

You all move to the seating area as they continue to talk business. You learned very quickly that you were not allowed to chime in on these discussions. You nodded attentively and sat by Harry. After a bit, you suggested they sit at the table for dinner.

You nervously plate the gnocchi and scallops, deciding you will take significantly less than Norman and Harry. You can’t always make something later. You just have to survive this. 

You set the plates in front of them and grabbed the wine, knowing you were served last. As you poured Norman’s glass, he cleared his throat. You looked up, and he pointed at his plate with an unmistakably fake smile. 

“Is this pasta?” You slowly nodded your head.

“I have celiac. This will wreak havoc on my body.” Harry immediately started apologising, throwing you under the bus, as Norman “kindly” explained that he couldn’t have gluten. 

You gripped the wine bottle dangerously in your hands. “I can have a steak ready for you in ten minutes.”

That seemed to placate the man as you filled Harry’s glass and took his plate back to the kitchen. You turned on the oven and put in your serving of asparagus before pulling a steak out of the fridge.

You practised the breathing exercises your therapist had taught you while the steak seared. Honestly, it could be worse. At least being in the kitchen gave you time away. 

You nuked the plate you had taken from Norman and plated the steak, throwing on the asparagus and putting the sauce in a little bowl on the side.

You replaced Harry’s plate with the warm one and presented Norman with his. Then pour yourself a hearty glass of wine, ignoring Norman’s stare, before sitting down with your cold plate of gnocchi. 

They talked about their days, occasionally asking for comments from you. You tried your best to answer and pay attention, but all you could think about was how your homemade pasta was cold. About how this was supposed to be a pleasant night with Harry, and now, you were dealing with this.

Taglist: @andrews-lovr, @barbecuetiddy, @cherriescherriesred25, @heejinw0rld, @ilovemoonknight, @negasonic-teenage-asshole, @preciousbabypeter, @princesskittycatofmeowland, @purple-amaranthe, @raajali3

[alabonshay]

Evergreen VIII, 8th Duchess Alabonsé

Aliases: Lady Evergreen (former), Lady Alabonsé, Evergreen (the) Elder, Grier

Dendie matriarch, nonbinary female (she/her), approx. 230 yrs

Appearance:

Ape-like; of imposing height, with heavy stature and squarish features.

Blue-green skin, de-saturated with age. Dark green fur, soft with a dull emerald shine, covering the entire body except for her face, and soles of her hands/feet. Straight mane that forms into tufts of quills, sweeping long from the back of her neck. Sideburns with yellow and orange patches that glitter faintly in the light.

Long, wide neck, with a large pad of fat around her chin, and venom organ; square, bony face and drooping jowls. Stooped shoulders. Two, small, human-like ears hidden beneath her mane.

Four bright yellow eyes with dark irises. Small and upturned nose. Wide mouth with sharp fangs, and two enormous tusks protruding from a severe underbite. A few lower teeth are always visible and she cannot fully close her jaw.

Scent:

Floral perfume, alcohol, woodsmoke; natural/close-proximity only: the oils of a fur pelt, hint of ‘disinfectant’ from her toxins, and general body odor.

Voice: Speaks in Received Pronunciation, with a noticeable lisp due to her tusks. Her voice is a warm and rhythmic bass, purring through different em-pha-ses, and often pausing to think. She can raise her voice to a powerful bark when angry.

Also makes ambient snuffles and snorts (i.e. in agreement, in thought), since her nose is short and stuffy.

Favorite Things:

Hunting, taxidermy, mild outdoor pursuits, autumn, brandy, her crossbow (Bear's Bane), long naps, musical dramas, flirting with others' wives, the color burgundy, steam locomotives, numbers, talking about her interests, delicious meats and sweets, tweed clothing

Least Favorite Things:

The Ocean, summer heat, the supernatural, bland meals, trendy fashion, high-pitched or grating noises, reading, timid personalities, change of schedule, combing her mane, being treated as inferior

Personality and Manner:

Once a genius inventor, Evergreen's career came to an end at age 30, following her physical metamorphosis into the Duchess Alabonsé.

The Duchess has been a bitter person for centuries. Burdened by her beastly form, she avoids boredom by simple pleasures: sweets, brandy, one-night-stands, and slumbering during the day. She is slow moving, exhausted by the illness of her matriarch-kind, and affected by her alcohol.

Irritable, dismissive of family and friends, the solitary Duchess now aches with loneliness. She craves the return to her adventurous spirit— the days where she was not yet a monster. She may be harsh towards the new, she might fear change more than anything, but a change in her life is what she needs most.

Other Info:

The daughter of Evergreen VII, making her the 7th generation clone of an ancient warlord. Her mother died at sea when she was young, leaving her in the care of her sisters and their servants.

Mathematical prodigy since childhood, but terrible at reading due to her dyslexia.

Has been married twice. She has outlived both of her wives and had 17 daughters. Her clan is heir-less, since her children do not like her, and she refuses to pass the title to any of them.

Since her metamorphosis, her body is fragile and chronically ill. She moves quite slowly in old age and relies on her cane.

Wears spectacles for her lower pair of eyes, which are slightly nearsighted.