#Fake watch ultra

[mediossehd]

One of the Top Fake ULTRA WATCH!! Vwar IWO Ultra 3 Review - Disappointed!! 🫤

One of the Top Fake ULTRA WATCH!! Vwar IWO Ultra 3 Review – Disappointed!! 🫤

Hi everybody. This is my other fake Ultra Watch.This is a very nice Ultra Watch but this is not the best fake ULTRA WATCH.My updated Top 5 Fake Ultra Watch List is in the video description.Let’s open the box and talk about it.I already opened the box and charged it. I packed it again to show to you.I charged it from 0 to 90 percent in 2 hours.After an average use, it was out of charge in the…

[robustcornhusk]

did long run in place of fast run (don't fuck up the injuries, idiot)

said i would do probably 10 miles, maaaaybe 12 if i felt great -- "i never feel great at the end of the long run" -- and ended up running 12 miles

legs were unhappy on downhills and totally fine on uphills & flats, so as long as i'm feeling okay this afternoon, it's probably safe to sign up for this weekend's flat flat flat 5k

[albireon]

more brainrot

[tobiasdrake]

*deep breath* Okay. Here we go.

I don't think the Netflix Avatar show likes women very much. It's a great show for fans of Aang, Sokka, Zuko, and Iroh specifically. All four of those characters get a ton of great material. In fact, it's super great for Sokka stans, because the show takes him ultra-seriously and can't go five minutes without one character or another (usually a woman) praising him.

But the way it handles its female cast is troublesome.

Katara

So, all three of the main trio got some changes made to their stories. They changed Aang's story so that he wasn't running away from his responsibilities; He was just clearing his head and somehow accidentallied himself into a tsunami. Whoopsy-dooodle. Aang did nothing wrong.

They changed Sokka's story so that him being a leader of his people and a great guardian warrior is treated with complete seriousness. Multiple times, characters stop to talk about how brave and noble Sokka is for taking on such an intense responsibility, and tell him to his face what a great warrior and a wonderful leader he is. Also his misogyny is erased.

And they changed Katara's story so that she directly got her mom killed because she sucks at waterbending.

Katara tries to waterbend to attack the Fire Nation soldier but couldn't manage it, provoking the soldier to start actively searching for her and forcing her mom to fake a waterbending attack and draw his fire. They changed Katara's story so that her bad decision making fucking got her mom killed.

This is treated with the same level of severity as "Sokka was bullied by mean kids and also his dad doesn't think he's good enough to be a leader."

"I hoped Sokka would do better but not everyone is meant to have people's lives in their hands," Sokka's dad says of him.

Yeah, you're right, that's totally comparable to watching your mom get barbecued because you tried to waterbend in a situation you shouldn't have and then failed.

In fact, they give Sokka's greatest trauma more weight because it gets examined again with Yue next episode, while Katara actively getting her mom killed isn't brought up again at all. We get traumatized glimpses of it throughout the season leading up to the reveal, but after this scene in episode 5, it never comes up again.

But to be fair, Katara was a child. An event this significant would surely have motivated her, driving her to become the great waterbender she is now, right?

No! Katara sucks at waterbending and needs men who aren't even waterbenders to teach her how to waterbend. She requires instruction from Aang in episode 1 to learn how to waterbend, then from Jet in episode 3 to learn how to waterbend better.

And unlike the show, her relationship with Aang isn't a give-and-take; Katara doesn't teach Aang a single goddamn thing. He never learns to waterbend. She is a strictly a pupil throughout the whole season. Though she at least gets officially labeled a master in episode 8, so there's that.

In any case, the whole traumatic memory thing isn't even the only time she's directly compared with Sokka. Episodes 3 and 4 see Katara and Sokka bicker over whose morally dubious side character is better. Sokka likes the Mechanist and Katara likes Jet.

Ultimately, Katara is forced to eat crow when Jet turns out to be the worst, while Sokka is vindicated when the Mechanist sees the error of his ways and reforms. But not before two separate arguments where Sokka calls Katara childish and accuses her of acting like a little girl.

Arguments ultimately resolved when Katara apologizes to Sokka for not adequately respecting his very serious and ultra important role as village protector and leader. Gives him a whole speech about how great and glorious he is. And Sokka... appreciates Katara learning to respect him properly, I guess, because he never offers any similar sentiments back to her.

The show just... They need you to know how important Sokka is, okay? It's very important that you respect Sokka.

Suki

Suki suffers tremendously from that whole "Sokka's misogyny was removed" thing. Y'know, because they need something else to do with that episode. The show is deeply aware that Suki is Sokka's love interest, so they just do that right off the bat. Suki falls madly in love with him from the moment they meet, and spends the entire episode making goo-goo eyes and trying to get him to Notice Me Senpai.

They still do the "Suki Trains Sokka" stuff. But Sokka is a serious, dignified manly man worthy of the deepest respect now, so of course they don't make him wear the Kyoshi uniform. Instead, the main purpose of his training is to allow them to flirt some more. It's less martial arts training and more an excuse to grope each other and near-kiss.

Suki's just a waifu now. She still fights real good, but all of the stuff that made her relationship with Sokka interesting has been erased.

Yue

Yue, similarly, leaps straight to shipping from the word go. They write out her fiance, Hahn, by having Yue briefly meet Sokka earlier in the season. She spends one minute talking to him in the Spirit World about Spirit World lore; In that time, she falls so desperately, madly, unfathomably in love with him that she breaks off her marriage to Hahn and devotes herself to waiting for him to one day come to her.

"Never have I known such joys as that time you let me explain the spirit bear Hei Bei to you. Truly, we are destined to be together for life."

Like with Suki, they go out of their way to have Yue and Sokka already be a ship from the word 'go' so they don't have to spend time developing any kind of meaningful attraction.

They just. They really want you to know that Sokka is the manliest and most desirable man ever to walk this earth. It is very important that you understand how great he is. Women hurl themselves into his arms with zero effort whatsoever, because he's just so goddamn irresistible.

Fortunately, Hahn is super okay with this turn of events. He's the most chill guy ever, he gets along perfectly well with Sokka, and he completely supports Yue's right to dump him! In the famously misogynistic Northern Water Tribe, no less! What a swell guy. Aren't men swell?

June

June gets hit with that "rewritten as hollow waifu" stick too, but her eyes are set on Iroh. They rewrote June to be super attracted and flirty towards the man who was her unwanted sexual harasser in the source material. So that's fun.

Also, she barely does anything. Zuko hires her to find Aang, she succeeds, and then she fucks right off out of the show - But she manages to find time to express how unbelievably sexy Iroh is twice during that time.

She seriously just dropped into the show to flirt with Iroh and leave. She is unbelievably inconsequential.

Kyoshi

And then there's Kyoshi. They really want you to hate Kyoshi. She's constantly shot from below, as if looking down on Aang and the audience. Her voice takes on a demonic echoing reverb at one point as she's screaming at Aang that "THE AVATAR MUST BE A MERCILESS WARRIOR!!!"

She despises Aang, calling him a coward for running away from his responsibilities - Which, I remind you, is no longer a plot point because they unwrote that flaw from his character. So she's just a complete and utter asshole, shot from the asshole angle, yelling violently at him with asshole sound effects. They want you to despise this woman.

Azula

Awkwardly, they do not seem to want you to despise Azula.

There's a lot to be said for how Ozai treats Azula in the original show. The way the favoritism he shows her is every bit as cruel and manipulative as the unfavoritism that he shows Zuko. Ozai does not love Azula. He loves the reflection of himself he sees in her eyes, and his encouragement urges her to polish herself to ensure his reflection always shines through.

This is not that. The show instead erases the favoritism entirely. Ozai doesn't really care one way or another about either of his kids. He plays them against each other, bragging openly to Azula about how great Zuko is and unpleasably writing Azula off as weak and useless.

They've rewritten the dynamic between abusive father and his two abused kids in order to take Azula's pride away. Reimagining her from a gifted prodigy who excels at imitating the toxic behaviors of a father who doesn't truly care for her, to a put-upon overachiever tearing herself in knots to live up to the standards of her unpleasable father.

This results in a truly wild portrayal of Azula as insecure and jealous of Ozai's seemingly love for Zuko. Here, she is simply a browbeaten child constantly complaining to her friends about how mean her father is and conspiring to get one up over Daddy's Golden Child Zuko.

Which she fails at, because she backs Zhao. Zuko deftly defeats her without even realizing they're in competition.

Conclusion

The season ends well for some of these women. It ends promising that maybe we'll see Katara teaching Aang some day. It ends with Zhao bragging that Ozai just used Zuko to train Azula so maybe we'll see the more confident and misguidedly proud Azula some day. Yue becomes the moon like she's supposed to. June's still out there so maybe she'll get to do something again some day.

Katara gets to fight Pakku and lose, but she looks pretty cool. She gets to fight Zuko and lose, but she looks pretty cool. Azula learns to lightningbend because she's just so mad about Ozai's contempt for her and favoritism for Zuko, which isn't how you lightningbend.

But promises of future content fall flat when the content that exists is so underwhelming. This season made its feelings on these characters pretty evident, and it's unwise to expect better material from creators who've disappointed you with the material they already made.

The women of Netflix Avatar simply do not get to shine, outside of superficial moments like the "Women of Northern Water Tribe demand the right to fight and then fuck off and don't do anything for the entire rest of the episode" bit.

"In the midst of battle, we demand that you stop being sexist and give us permission to fight! This is a way better idea than convincing you to teach us to fight before the battle begins."

The characters of this show feel as if they've been reimagined to glorify the boys at the expense of the girls. The boys are treated with a great amount of care. They're dignified and made important movers of the plot, with their rough edges sanded off. While the girls are molded around them.

[stealthetrees]

Everyone lives au where after the war Commander Fox gets arrested for killing Chancellor Palpatine, who never did anything wrong in his life, ever. Fox pleads guilty and requests execution.

Unfortunately for him, the entire Coruscant Guard has been planing for this (along with other possible scenarios) for years. They’ve put together a legal team of clones who got online degrees in law, whose main defense is that government property can’t be convicted of murder. The Republic’s reps claim that Fox is a person and therefore absolutely can do murder, so they whip out a dictionary and read the definition for slavery.

The trial gets derailed by all the accusations leveled at the government, which are all true. Mountains of evidence are brought in, literly. Several large filing cabinets are dragged into the room filled to the brim with tax statements, photos, documents, contracts ect exposing not only the deep corruption through the entire senate, but also provides enough information to jail at least half the senate.

It’s broadcast on live tv and is the most watched event in history.

Fox keeps trying to get the death sentence. He has no intention of actually dying tho (he plans to fake it and retire to run a crew of con artists and steal from the ultra wealthy.) Fox confesses to murdering multiple people, but each time evidence places him far away from the scene of the crime, usually because Fox himself planted that evidence and now his extreme competence is biting him in the ass.

The fact that Palpatine was a Sith Lord, was planing on taking over the republic, working with the separatists, and that he started the war are not brought up at all. All crimes brought up are things like grooming children or embezzlement.

[cosmerelists]

Stormlight Characters Switch Roles for a Day

As request by anon. :) [Some spoilers for Stormlight! Includes some roles people only have in later books]

It's important to me for you all to know that these combos were generated by a random number generator. Here is how fate (=random number generator) has decreed that Stormlight characters will be swapped around! How will they do in their new job?

1. Renarin takes on Jasnah's role as Queen of Alethkar

Renarin: [smiling beatifically] Rlain: You're stressed out of your mind, aren't you? Renarin (calmly): I am about to vibrate out of my skin, yeah. Rlain: Does it help that we already have three preemptive surrenders from nations who "don't want to risk angering the all-seeing prophetic god-king of Alethkar"? Renarin: What?! Rlain: Just kidding. Rlain: ...There's only been one surrender so far. Renarin: ... Renarin: I didn't even SAY anything!

2. Navani takes on Kaladin's role as leader of Bridge 4

Navani (Hour 1): I'm not a commander, of course. I'll stay out of the way and allow Teft and the other lieutenants to handle things. Navani (Hour 4): I'm not a commander, of course, but I have suggested a few small improvements. If Teft and the other lieutenants can make them work, then that's great. Navani (Hour 8): With the help of Teft and the other lieutenants, we have created nineteen new devices that have improved the efficiency of Bridge 4 by 35%. I'm so glad I can support them in some small way. Navani (Hour 12): Wait a second...I'm actually amazing at this.

3. Shallan takes on Adolin's role as duelist

Jakamov stands in the dueling ring, frozen. The 7 Shallans surround him, taunting him. One of them seems to know all of his secrets. One of them wears the face of an old girlfriend whom he ghosted. One of them has his mother's frown--only her frown. All of them have swords. All of them are watching him. Shallan (actually up in the stands): I'm so great at this, actually. Adolin: Shallan...he's crying.

4. Dalinar takes on Shallan's role as Ghostblood spy

Dalinar tramps into a seedy bar. Everyone takes one look at him and immediately they all file out. He is alone. Dalinar: ... Dalinar: And I wore a fake mustache and everything.

5. Teft takes on Dalinar's role as leader of Urithiru

Teft: Kal...congratulations on becoming the leader of Urithiru. Kaladin: I'M PRETTY SURE THAT'S NOT HOW THIS WORKS

6. Szeth takes on Navani's role as artefabrian

Navani: Well...you've certainly been...busy. Szeth: I am physically incapable of not giving a role my all. Navani: So... Navani: ... Navani: They're all complicated instruments of horrible death, huh? Szeth: I like the one with the spring.

7. Sadeas takes on Szeth's role as the Assassin in White

Sadeas: Ialai...can you have your assassins kill all these men? Ialai: Already sent 'em out. Sadeas: I love you! Sadeas: Wow...this job was so easy and not emotionally taxing in the slightest.

8. Leshwi takes on Sadeas' role as betrayer of Dalinar

Leshwi: I feel like........I'm just going to fly down and stab him. Leshwi: Well, after I introduce myself of course. Leshwi: And allow him to summon his sword for an honorable duel. Lezian: You suck at betrayal. Leshwi: ...Thank you?

9. Rlain takes on Wit's role as the King's/Queen's Wit

Rlain: I see that you have chosen to wear yellow to this feast. Rlain: It was a good choice. It looks nice on you. Wit: I want to cry. Rlain: What? I said it to Amusement.

10. Wit takes on Rock's role as Bridge 4's cook

Wit: As a vegetarian whose morals are supernaturally enforced...I'm gonna introduce you all to a little something I call "Tofu." Rock: YOU'RE FIRED

11. Jasnah takes on Teft's role as Kaladin's lieutenant

Jasnah (holding an enormous notebook): I have some suggestions...Captain. Kaladin: M-My life is flashing before my eyes!

12. Adolin takes on Lirin's role as ultra-pacifist doctor

Adolin: Okay, but...dueling is pacifist, right? No one dies. Lirin: Play-violence is still violence! People get injured and it's so horrible and pointless! Adolin: What about fighting but, like, noble fighting? Lirin: D-Do you know what pacifist MEANS? Adolin: But my sword is my best friend! Lirin: ...every day the Almighty tests my patience.

13. Lirin takes on Renarin's role as Prophet of the Everstorm

Lirin: ...and that is how and why I know that something bad is coming, and why I think you need to prepare to save everyone. Dalinar: Wow...you just...said all that. To me. Directly. With details. Lirin: I understand that you may choose to execute me for blasphemy or whatever, but I couldn't sit back and allow people to die for my own comfort. Dalinar: What a mature and straightforward way to handle that!

14. Rock takes on Rlain's roll as "Parshendi" spy

Rock: Here are everyone's secrets! Rlain: I am...impressed. How did you get all this intelligence so quickly? Rock: People LOVE talking to the cook!

15. Kaladin takes on Leshwi's role as leader of shanay-im

Kaladin: So...you guys...can't die? Shanay-im guy: That is correct. Kaladin (tears welling up in his eyes): S-So...I can be commander of a squad where...no one ever dies? I-Is this happening? Shanay-im guy: However, we have to kill someone and take over their body to return. Kaladin: GOD FUCKING DAMMIT

[loko4koko]

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ Gojo Satoru x f!reader ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

100 FOLLOWER MILESTONE CELEBRATION ✰

>fanart_credit: _3aem (via_twitter)

MDNI 18+

>word_count: 7293

>contents: slight crack (it’s a gojo fic what do u expect), established relationship, fake engagements, excessive use of “fiancé/fiancée”, satoru is DOWN BAD like ultra simp 3000 levels, kiiinda rich boy!gojo but like barely, gojo calls you “angel” and baby” a lot, cunnilingus, kinda feral!gojo too, multiple orgasms (f!receiving), multiple positions, explicit p in v, rough(ish) sex, creampie, gojo being a lil slut for you, itty bitty dacryphilia (if you squint mad hard)

there’s a standoff happening in your kitchen. a staring contest of sorts. the tension in the air is palpable, so thick you could taste it if you stuck out your tongue. your opponent is a worthy contender, giving just as good as it gets. your nose twitches with the intensity of it, eyes narrowed as you keep your gaze firm, focused.

your adversary in this battle? a red, velvet ring box.

god, it’s like it’s taunting you with it’s delicate heart shape. smug little box, just sitting on the dining table unopened. you’re not sure how long you’ve been caught in the orbit of this suspicious item, but it must’ve been quite a while, according to your boyfriend.

“babeee, i’ve been calling you! what’re you doing?” satoru appears from the direction of your bedroom, frown on his face from his belief that you’re purposely ignoring him. he slips behind you, arms around your torso as he leaves a kiss on the top of your head.

“oh,” he laughs as he fixes his eyes on what has you so engrossed, “it’s not what you think.”

this is what gets your attention, turning your head so your gaze is no longer on the little box, but on satoru instead. “what, you proposing to your other girlfriend or something?” you pout. he laughs again, annoyingly louder this time.

“baby, i’m not proposing to anybody yet. and you know i don’t have another girlfriend. it took me 3 years to get you to say yes to one date, you think i’m pulling that off again? thanks for putting faith into my game, though.” you can’t help but to roll your eyes in jest, turning in the man’s arms to wrap yourself around him.

“yeah, yeah, whatever. so…what is it then?”

“it’s a ring.”

“i thought you said you weren’t proposing…”

“okay well, technically, i am. but listen! i saw online some guy and his girlfriend went to different restaurants with a fake ring and when he ‘proposed’ to her, they gave them free food and desserts! so. we’re doing that.”

you pull yourself from satoru’s grasp, staring up at him blankly. he gives you a goofy smile in return, bringing a hand up to boop your nose when you remain silent.

“satoru….really? doing this just so you can get free chocolate lava cakes and ice cream? i’m definitely deleting tiktok from your phone, damn app gives you way too many ideas.” and there he goes frowning again, pretty pink lips downturned so dramatically.

“baby, no…i’m doing this so that WE can get free chocolate lava cakes and ice cream. what kind of selfish, evil man do you take me for? … and you’re not deleting my tiktok! how else am i going to send nanami videos he claims to not watch but always knows about when i ask him?”

a sigh leaves you as you shake your head, truly experiencing defeat. you, and everyone else that had ever met him for that matter, knew that there was no changing satoru’s mind when the words “free” and “dessert” were involved. he’d eat himself into a goddamn diabetic coma if you let him get away with it.

satoru enacts his master plan the next night, surprising you with a stunning new dress and a note that says to “look super sexy and marriageable (where the hell had he even learned that word?) as usual” left on your bed. you try your best to comply with his wishes, getting your makeup and hair as perfect as you can before slipping the very revealing dress on. you realize something rather odd while you doll yourself up; satoru hasn’t come home to get himself ready. it was almost 6pm, the time designated by him in his little note, and you were practically ready aside from some jewelry and shoes. you couldn’t imagine that he would make you wait while he showered and dressed, so you were a little bit confused, but you decide to brush it off while you pick between solid gold hoops and diamond-encrusted dangles, both courtesy of the man in question.

when 6:04pm rolls around, and your fancy yves saint laurent heels are wrapped around your feet, the front door opens. you look up from your seat at the kitchen island with a wine glass in hand, and, in the most cliché way possible, your breath is stolen right out of your lungs. satoru was always stupidly beautiful, just so gorgeous that it made you sick, but now? he looked even more alluring than usual. those inhumanly blue eyes were hidden behind his typical shades, masterfully tailored suit adorning his lanky form like it was painted on. his deep red button up, the same color as your cocktail dress, was unbuttoned for the first three (because he was a slut.) and to top it all off, he was wearing that same award winning smile that he’d dazzled you with so many years ago. if he wasn’t so set on his goddamn desserts, you’d bend over and spread your thighs for him right there on the counter.

“holy fuck,” is the first thing he says to you, grip on a bouquet of what looks like dark red carnations and burgundy roses tightening as he takes you in. he takes off his glasses as he draws in closer, pure reverence in his eyes the whole time. “angel, you look…you look fucking edible. my god. what a woman.” you’re not new to satoru’s comments and compliments, far from it, but tonight, they were hitting a little different, for lack of a better term. maybe it was the look in his eyes, some kind of compound of love and burning desire, but something else, too. something almost…determined, but you don’t know what he’d be determined to do other than put on a good show.

“so, eat me then,” you tease, though the heat in your cheeks and your eyes not meeting his gives away how flustered he’s got you. he’s still looking you over, scrutinizing every pretty inch of you with an overwhelming intensity before his steely gaze levels to yours.

“mm, tempting, but it’ll have to wait; we have to go get engaged first. these,” he holds the flowers out to you, “are yours, my arrestingly beautiful queen.” you can’t help but to laugh at his ultra-corny pet names, but they warm your heart nonetheless, rising from your stool to find a vase to fill with water.

“where were you, anyway? you show up all dressed to the nines on me out of nowhere. what, did you get ready in the car or something?” you ask, back to the white-haired man while you dig around in a cabinet.

“suguru helped me out, kept my suit and let me shower at his place..” he says, almost distantly. you can’t see it, but satoru is watching you, worshipping you with his eyes as you flit around the kitchen in your heels and your dress and your oh so seductive aura. he’s never seen anything or anyone be more mesmerizing in his life, and he knows he never will.

arriving at the first restaurant of the three satoru had planned has your nerves alighting. what if they knew you were faking it? god, how disgraceful that would be—caught in your goober of a boyfriend’s silly scheme would have you too embarrassed to show your face in public for at least two months. but then he smiles at you from the driver seat- a genuine one that eases your anxieties and soothes your concerns, one so brilliant that it instills you with the necessary confidence to go commit…whatever form of fraud this whole thing is. you give him one in return, reaching out to cup his cheek before you’re leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his lips. you can feel him smile even wider when you do.

“so, how much do you want me to sell this? ‘cause, if i cry now, it might not be so believable at the next place.” satoru’s pushing in your chair when you speak, smoothing his hands down your shoulders before giving you a squeeze. he takes his own seat, flipping the menu open to browse through the beverage list.

“best as you can with no tears. gotta save those for the last one,” he tilts his glasses down to send you a wink, and, for the millionth time within your relationship, you’re light-heartedly rolling your eyes at him. “you got it, baby. but! if you don’t share whatever disgustingly sweet, sugar-stuffed, chocolate-drizzled, candy-coated bullshit you ask for, it’s gonna be your pretty little ass.” he laughs at your threat and throws his hands up in resignation. you might be smiling when you say it, but you surely aren’t joking, and he knows it.

you both decide to keep dinner small and light, knowing you’re going to gorge yourselves on whatever insulin-raising dishes your dear boyfriend chooses to indulge in. it’s not long after you put your fork down when he gives you ‘the look.’ you have to use all of your willpower not to smile, woosah-ing yourself into the role of an unsuspecting girlfriend about to be proposed to. you paint a look of surprise on your face when he gets down on one knee, giving you a charming little speech about how he’d “wanted to do this for so, so long” and how he “could never love another the way he loves you, never want to. so please baby, will you marry me?” it’s actually rather romantic, makes you wonder how close it all is to his true feelings for you.

you and satoru hardly ever explicitly talked about marriage, but he did always talk about how he wanted to be with you forever (or rather, that he’d jump off a bridge if you ever broke up with him, but that wasn’t as eloquent.) he’d mention plans of a big house he wanted to put you in, so he could come home to you and your warm embrace every day until he was old and wrinkly beside you. so, maybe not an outright “hey, we’re getting married some day,” but it was most definitely implied.

at the end of satoru’s little scripted scene, he pulls out that same heart-shaped ring box from the table, opening it up to showcase a square cut diamond, one you’re sure must be a piece of costume jewelry for the occasion. you gasp, climbing out of your seat to throw your arms around him with a “yes! yes, i’ll marry you!” he picks you up, standing back up to his full height as he delicately sways you back and forth. you share a kiss, one you let a few secret giggles into, before you part, allowing your boyfriend the pleasure of sliding the ring onto your finger. the patrons of the restaurant that’d been watching the spectacle all clap at what they believe to be a genuine display of affection, including your waiter from his station near the kitchen. it’s a lot of attention, but being with someone that looks like (and acts like, and is) satoru means you’re relatively used to stares and whispers. he gives you one more sloppy smooch before he’s helping you back into your seat, giving a bow of thanks to the other customers before he’s sitting, too.

when the waiter comes back to offer up your grand prize, with eyes dampened from your well-acted performance, satoru keeps it simple and orders a non-nauseating plate of assorted mochi ice cream. and when it comes to the table, he plucks one of the cold, sweet little treats in between his long fingertips and reaches his equally lengthy arm across the table to feed it to you with not a lick of selfishness. fuck the dessert, he’d share the entire moon with you if it was in his possession.

“babe, we fucking killed that. that lady? in the black blouse? she was crying, like, actually crying! i almost feel bad, but that mochi was to die for, so i’d say it was a worthy crime.” you jabber excitedly on your walk back to the car, hand in hand with your stage fiancé. he’s staring down at you as you prattle on, knows he should be watching where he’s going but fuck, you’re so stunning and you go along with his admittedly very childish desires for free sweets and yeah, he really is so whipped, it’s not even funny. he’d never deny it, either—the man who carries multiple pictures of you in his wallet and as his phone background, the man who gives you massages and shares from his candy stash when you’re on your period, the one who can’t get mad at you when you fall asleep on him during a movie he really wanted to see? there’d be an ice-cold day in hell before that man—the only gojo satoru—ever denies being hopelessly, foolishly, irrevocably in love with you.

the second restaurant that you and satoru pull your scheme on is a tad bit more upscale than the first—not to say the first eatery wasn’t upscale, would never be the case with your luxury loving boyfriend—and you absorb your surroundings from your place on the man’s arm while he checks your reservation in with the maître d. for this place, as fancy as it is, you think you’ll tone down the theatrics, keep it a little classier this time around. you don’t want to embarrass yourself or satoru with some overly acted performance that screamed fake. the suited man behind the counter leads you to a table, not smack-dab in the middle of the dining area but not very secluded either, something perfect for the exhibition you were going to put on.

“you know, you’re setting me up for some very high expectations, ‘toru,” you speak from behind your wine glass, eyes on what would be his if it weren’t for the glasses he still wears. he looks up from his menu, head tilted inquisitively.

“is that so?”

“mhm. that ring you got looks nice, but you’ve spoiled me. i’m gonna need one way bigger now. and,” you pause, taking another swig from your glass, “you’ll have to really surprise me. i mean, this restaurant is really nice, but if you keep this up, we’re gonna run out of fancy restaurants for you to actually propose to me in. there’re only so many, y’know.” your tone is coated in sarcasm, but satoru doesn’t laugh. instead, he smirks, closing his menu and placing it to the side.

“don’t worry your pretty little head about that, sweet girl. you’ll be very surprised when it happens.”

the meal is delicious, as expected, and your plates are cleared soon after. satoru’s laughing at a story you have about your neighbor’s adorable little kitty cat that keeps trying to sneak into your apartment while he pours you another glass of an unnecessarily expensive wine he insisted on.

“are you ready?” he asks when you finish, and you give him a short nod, quick to prepare yourself again for the false astonishment you have to give and the onslaught of eyes that were soon to be on the two of you.

he reaches across the table to take your left hand in his, eyes peering up at you over his glasses when he leans down to press his lips against your ring finger.

“i love you,” he murmurs before he’s up and out of his seat. he approaches your side of the table but he doesn’t do his part of getting down on one knee yet, opting instead to cup your cheek with a hold so gentle you’d assume he thought you were made of glass.

“i mean it, i really do love you more than anything in this world.” you don’t have time to respond to the declaration before he’s descending to his knee, taking your hand yet again as he gives you another speech. this one is different than the last, but just as full of genuine love.

“you make my days worth living, baby. you make the sun look like a streetlight in comparison to how much you light up my life. you’re so funny, so smart, so generous, and you put up with the…less than favorable parts of my personality with very minimal complaints.” he says that last part with a little bit of disdain and it has you giggling in a way no one else can bring out of you, despite your slightly glossy eyes. “my perfect girl, will you marry me?”

and there it is, the ring box you’d been waiting to see since you stepped into this establishment full of onlookers. he opens the box and slides the ring onto your finger before he even gets your verbal answer, but it doesn’t matter because you’re nodding and smiling like a damn idiot, as if it’s real. you try not to dwell on that thought for long.

“of course i’ll marry you, satoru.” he carefully pulls you up out of your chair and cups your face again, this time with both hands, lips against yours in a kiss much more serious than the last time you did this. there’s more applause following suit, but you can’t pay attention to anyone but satoru, who’s kissing you so deeply that the restaurant could be burning to a crisp and you would be none the wiser. when you part, he’s grinning, a little bit from the wine buzz and a lot from the adrenaline of proposing to his gorgeous girlfriend, staged as it was.

your waitress is quick to congratulate you both, and when she mentions the one thing that satoru came here for—that goddamned free dessert—he lets you choose. but you’re so generous, his sweet little sweetheart, just like he said in his speech, and you pick something sugar-stuffed, and chocolate drizzled, and so fucking satoru that it makes your teeth ache. you’re always, always, thinking about him, and he loves you all the more for it.

when you get to the last restaurant/soon-to-be victim of theft of services, you’re feeling very practiced in the art of deception. the tears you were able to evoke out of the unknowing guests, and the ones satoru almost pulled out of you had you unwaveringly confident in both your own and satoru’s level of skill as thespians this time around.

this place is a far cry from the previous two and you can tell before you even step foot inside, the architectural marvel of a building radiating the energy of one of those “sorry, we’re booked 3 years in advance” kind of places. you have no doubt that satoru could get in anywhere if he wanted to, though- the man was quick to offer bribes well into the range of some people’s entire salaries. if he wanted something, he was unrelenting, tenacious even—traits you admired greatly about him.

the moment you step inside, you start to feel a little swell of anxiety. this was..intense. the lighting was much more moody, with floor to ceiling windows giving the diners a view of a beautiful garden, lush with greenery. you and satoru had dined well before, but this was something entirely different. he leads you to the reception desk where another maître d, not dissimilar to the one before, greets you with an air of extreme professionalism. satoru gives the man his name, and you’re left a little confused when his eyes widen in what you think is surprise. he gives your boyfriend a quick nod before he dashes off, and you try not to focus too much on how expensive this place must be or why satoru would come here of all places for a free dessert, but it’s hard not to. the wall behind the reception desk is practically covered in plaques of awards, the words “michelin star” and “winner of..” plastered on most of them. you know those aren’t easily earned, so you try to think less about the exorbitant cost you know your boyfriend is paying, instead doing your best to enjoy this probably once-in-a-lifetime dining experience.

the man from before returns, with another more sharply dressed man, who grins wide when he sees satoru and yourself. he shakes your man’s hand firmly, giving a nod of his head in the direction of the dining area. the restaurant is gorgeous, past that really, but a little under-populated for satoru’s plan to have it’s most effectiveness. besides, what’s the point of a fake proposal if no one is gonna see it?

you mention your previous thoughts to satoru once you’re seated, but he just gives you a smile and says “don’t worry about anything other than enjoying yourself.”

so you don’t. you reminisce on funny, and sometimes embarrassing stories about your past with satoru—sharing laughter, and food you can’t fucking pronounce, and glasses of ridiculously high-priced alcohol.

“you’re the most wonderful woman in the world, angel,” he muses some time down the line, “thank you. i don’t fucking deserve you.” his words have you putting your glass down, reaching across the table to mirror his earlier actions by taking his hand, with your face set into a frown.

“i don’t like it when you say things like that, satoru. you do deserve me..because i say you do. you’re not- you’re not hard to love, satoru; it’s actually very, very easy. and i love loving you, and i’m gonna keep doing it every fucking day that you’ll have me. okay? so none of that,” you say, squeezing his much larger hand in your own.

“what if i wanted to have you forever?” he asks, eyes still hidden behind those increasingly unnecessary glasses. the restaurant is far more dimly lit than the first two, but the urge to complain comes only from how much you miss looking into those dazzling blue pools.

“well, i’d give you forever and then some. you’re not getting rid of me, ‘toru,” you grin, taking the stem of your glass between the fingers of your free hand and lifting it to your lips. satoru follows the movement behind his shades, watches how the delicate line of your throat bobs with your swallowing with a sort of reverie that is usually described in religious texts. he’d pray for you, pray to you, anything. he’d learn how to sculpt just so your beauty could be immortalized for all of eternity.

satoru says your name and you hum, quick to swallow down the rest of your sake before giving him a sweet smile with your eyebrows raised.

“i hope you meant what you said—about forever.” you’re about to ask him what his foreboding words mean but you’re interrupted by none other than satoru himself, rising from his seat for the third and final time this evening to bring himself down to one knee. you’re about to laugh and quietly chide him for not giving you time to prepare for the show when you hear the sound of a piano, looking over your shoulder to see a man sitting at the once unmanned instrument. you turn further still and see that all of the staff has crowded around the edges of the room, all holding intricately crafted bouquets of..dark red carnations and burgundy roses, much like the one he’d given you, both granting you space but still wanting to watch the grand gesture that your boyfriend prepared.

“satoru, what’s….did you call ahead or something? this is…kind of a lot for a dessert i could make you at home..” he smiles and shakes his head at your endearing ignorance to the situation, reaching up to pull his glasses off for the first time all night. those eyes that you missed so much, they were rimmed with a faint redness. you couldn’t help but act on your instincts, reaching out to cup his face in your careful—caring—hands. you don’t get the chance to ask him what has him tearing up so much before he starts, a speech entirely new leaving his lips.

“if you think that loving me is easy, then loving you is child’s play. loving you is…one of the greatest gifts that i have ever or could ever be granted. you don’t always see it, and i like it that way, but sometimes—a lot of times—i look at you like you created the heavens and the earth. you are the heavens and the earth to me. you’re everything to me. your laugh alone could cure me of any ails. i don’t know what i did to make such a beautiful, loving, gentle, smart, hilarious, talented woman fall in love with my stupid ass, but fuck, baby, i thank the universe every day for you. you give me purpose. you give me strength. you give me the want to continue, when it feels like there’s no fight left in me.”

your eyes shimmer with unshed tears, lips parted in genuine shock that you hadn’t expected to feel tonight. you spare another glance at the staff before bringing your gaze back to satoru, voice caught in your throat and tongue heavy in your mouth.

“satoru, if- if you’re playing with me..if you’re doing this for your damn dessert, i-“

“no, baby, this- this is real. you are…the most exceptional person i know. you love me in a way that i didn’t know was possible before you came into my life. i’m so goddamn unworthy of you, but you chose me, and i swear, that for the rest of my life—the rest of our life—i’ll never let you down. please, angel. please make me the most blessed man on the planet and marry me?”

satoru reaches into the pocket of his suit pants as you stare in amazement, mascara tears fully running down your cheeks now. the ring box in his grasp is much different than the one from your faux-engagements—it’s black, shaped like an oval with silver ornamental designs around the perimeter. and when he opens it, your lip begins to quiver.

the ring is something so uniquely satoru, a thin silver band that splits into multiple vine-like channels, with little diamonds attached for the appearance of flowers. they meet at the top where the stone resides, and fuck, it’s big. it’s aquamarine, with several little prongs holding it’s marquise shape in place. it must’ve cost a fortune, and you can’t help but marvel at it as satoru takes your hand in his own again, lips against your ring finger one last time before he’s slipping the delicate piece of jewelry onto your finger.

“i need you to say it, angel. say you’ll marry me,” he pleads, blue eyes shining in the dimly lit space. you can’t hold back the sob that leaves you, nodding vigorously as you caress his face.

“yes, ‘toru, i’ll marry you.” you say through the tears, pressing your salt-covered lips to his. there’s applause behind you, just like the other “engagements,” but this time, you don’t need them there. you’d have said yes to him if it was 3 in the morning and you were half asleep, you’d have said it in the car on the way to the grocery store. you’d say yes to him anywhere, at any time.

true to satoru’s word, he doesn’t bother with the free dessert this time around. he’s too busy thinking about going home and getting a taste of his fiancée to bother with some fancy piece of cake. and he almost doesn’t make it home, pressing you up against the car with his right hand on the side of your face and the other on your waist. he kisses you so voraciously, like if he tried just that much harder, he could swallow you whole.

“satoru, stop!” you giggle against his ravenous mouth, “a public indecency charge wouldn’t be a great start to our engagement, you think?”

“i can’t help it. my fiancée just looks so good, i don’t think anybody’d blame me if i hiked your dress up right here,” he says, leaning his head down onto your shoulder to leave a kiss or two on the bare skin. you gently push him away, coy look in your eyes when you meet his own.

“at home, the dress comes all the way off.”

satoru has you both in the car with the keys in the ignition and the gearshift in ‘drive’ within 14 seconds.

the front door to your apartment is solid wood, and it’s cold against your back where satoru has, yet again, found a surface to press you up against. you barely made it three steps inside before he was on you, groping and squeezing anything his reach would allow. his lips are sweet where they meet yours, kinda like how they always are, from all the desserts and wines he’d indulged himself in. and somewhere in there, a taste that’s wholly satoru resides. it’s your favorite flavor. his tongue never asks permission to enter your mouth—it just does, licking up every bit of you that’s on offer, and it never satisfies his appetite.

“what was that you said earlier, baby? you want me to eat you, right?” he says between his desperate kisses and fuck, when did everything get so hot all of a sudden? the hand you have on his shoulder slinks up, coming to find its place in the short hairs of his undercut, and when you scrape your nails against his scalp he sighs into your mouth.

“you’re not too full from your desserts?” you tease breathily but it cuts into a gasp of surprise when he yanks your dress up and shoves his hand under the bunched fabric to rip your panties off, only to find your bare skin at his fingertips.

“oh, fuck- no panties, baby? y’want me ta eat that pretty pussy this bad?” he doesn’t wait for an answer, snatching your lips up in a quick, biting kiss that leaves you dizzy. he drops to his knees—funny how much he’s done that today—and lifts your dress further, gathering the material up at your waist. the way satoru marvels at your pussy is something he’d always done but fuck, can you blame him? you get so wet and you taste like the world’s rarest delicacy on his tongue and you’re so fucking warm and tight when he digs you out—he’d sing hymns about your pussy from the top of a mountain.

“my pretty fiancée givin’ me such easy access…such a sweet girl you are,” he praises with a kiss to your mound, “so fucking good t’me.” but he’s just as good to you—especially now, as he spreads your thighs and hikes one of your legs over his shoulder, unhesitatingly dipping his tongue in between your soaking wet folds. the contact of the slippery muscle on your sensitive flesh has you mewling, eyes slipping shut as he feasts on you. his mouth is as slick as it is when he’s talking, stroking his tongue up and down from your clit to your hole, and back again.

“fffuck- satoru..” you whimper, subconsciously grinding your hips into his face. he doesn’t mind, though- actually he encourages it; he loves it when you use him for your pleasure, makes him feel good to make you feel good. and that rings especially true now, as he stiffens his tongue and slides it into your aching hole that’s been clenching around nothing this entire time. he fucks you with it, much like he does with his cock- giving you a mix of slow and fast thrusts and keeping you on your toes. his large hands smooth up your thighs before one sneaks away to aid in him pulling you apart. his thumb finds your clit, massaging the little button in circles and you almost lose your balance, your hand flying out to grip onto his snow-like hair. your little mewls act as encouragement for the man between your legs; he’s studied you—your body—for years, and how each little flick and roll and curl of his tongue or fingers brings you closer and closer to cumming all over him. and he uses that knowledge so freely, long tongue prodding and pressing further and further into you, tip of the muscle kissing your g-spot.

satoru knows you, knows that when your thighs shake and your breathing turns to panting, he’s got you right where he wants you. you confirm that for him, when you look down at him to see those sparkling blue eyes staring back up at you and you moan “god, fuck- ‘toru, please baby, don’t stop, gonna cum f’you.” he’s ever so obedient, thumb moving in faster circles around your clit and his unrelenting tongue fucking into you just as quick. he keeps his gaze glued to your face because you look so goddamn pretty when you cum that he can’t bear to miss it. and he doesn’t, watching lustfully as your head sinks back against the door, hips stuttering as he licks the orgasm right out of you.

“out of all the meals i’ve had tonight,” satoru starts, lips shiny with your release when you open your eyes again, “you’re the most delicious.” you’d laugh at how corny he is, but your mind still hasn’t come fully back to you yet. satoru rises back to his normal stature of towering over you, even in your heels, and he can’t help but to dip his head down and kiss you. all those same flavors from before are muted behind the taste of you, and you almost hate to admit it, but you like that a lot.

“i need to be inside of you, baby,” satoru sighs into the kiss, leaning down to wrap his big hands around your outer thighs, and you get the idea quickly, letting him pick you up so you can wrap your legs around his hips. he carries you off to the bedroom, laying you down on the plush comforter that covers your bed. you sit back on your elbows and toe your heels off, eyes following his movements as he takes off his blazer.

“god, you look-“

“fuckable?”

“very.”

“so, what are you waiting for? fuck me, fiancé.”

he takes your invitation with fire in his eyes, moving in close to undo whatever horrid contraptions are keeping you clothed. when he gets the zipper down, he’s practically ripping you out of the dress, tossing the expensive garment off somewhere behind him. he’s pulling his own clothes off just as quickly, and when he gets his pants down you can’t help but to feel him through his black boxer briefs. he’s so hard, and he’s leaking like a goddamn faucet, the wet spot you feel near his tip growing larger and larger. he’s groaning against your neck as you touch him, pushing his hips into your palm desperately. but then he decides that he can’t take the teasing and the waiting anymore, so he’s sitting up on his haunches to shove his boxers down his thighs. he doesn’t even get them fully off before he’s grabbing your calf and dragging you towards him, gripping the base of his painfully stiff cock to line it up with your sopping pussy hole.

“ohmy-GOD, fuck- ah! satoru, slow downnnn!!” you gasp, crying out for him as he slams into you with no warning and sets a pace that could rival a jackrabbit.

“s-sorry, baby, jus’ need you- need you so fucking bad, shit- hnnng, fuuuck,” he moans, gripping your hips tight as he keeps hammering into you. you can’t keep your eyes open as much as you’d like to—satoru always looks so angelic when he’s flushed and panting from the vice-like grip your pussy has on him—but it’s okay, because he moans like a bitch in heat when he’s fucking you and that’s all you need. your nails are digging into whatever they can find, one hand twisted up in the blanket and the other pressed against satoru’s flexing abs as if you’re trying to stop him, but you both know that’s not true.

“so. fucking. wet.” he groans, punctuating each word with a hard thrust. he’s so deep inside that you know you’d feel him if you touched your belly, and the thought has tears of pleasure spilling down to your temples and into your hair.

“y-you feel so fucking good- ah- mmm- look so p-pretty taking my cock like this,” he whines, one hand leaving your hip to find your throat. he doesn’t add pressure, doesn’t squeeze, just lets his hand rest there like he needed to ground himself. he finds himself angling his hips just a little differently, and only a moment later, he knows he’s got it when your teary eyes shoot open and you scream his name.

“right there, angel? my fiancée likes it t-there?” he teases, trying his hardest to keep some composure but fuck, it’s so hard when you clench that tight cunt of yours and suck him deeper and deeper.

“yeeessss,” you sob, “please! feels..so good…love you so much, love the way you fuck me..” satoru moans with you, snaking a hand under your lower back to arch you a little more, and the slight change of position has him hitting your g-spot head on with his merciless thrusts. you cum, wordlessly and unexpectedly, and satoru’s eyes widen as he looks down to see the ring of your cream that covers the base of his cock.

“ohhhh f-fuck yeah, angel, cream all over my dick, ‘s all yours, always- always yours,” he gasps.

he brings you fully into his lap and your arms instinctively curl around his neck, your head falling back as he bounces you on his cock that’s impaling you. you’re both covered in sweat now, and your slick, too—it leaks down around satoru’s dick and onto your thighs. the eye contact he makes with you in this moment is hard to look away from, so you don’t—eyes locked with his while you pant and moan and whimper his name. he does the same right back to you, choking out declarations of his love interspersed with your own name.

soon, the position changes again, when you use the little strength you have left to push satoru onto his back with your hands splayed out on his chest. he groans in surprise, sliding his hands up your hips to hold onto your waist. your gaze shifts between his blissed-out face and the sparkling stone that rests on your finger, grinding against him nice and slow.

“does this feel good, satoru?” you don’t mean for the question to come out as seductive as your tone does, but it has his hips bucking up into you nonetheless. his eyes open to find yours and he nods, digging his fingers into your flesh more when you ride him harder, roll your hips a little faster.

“f-fuck, feels like heaven, baby..keep- mmf, keep fucking me like t-that,” he answers, and you’re his sweet girl, his giving little angel, so you do. you keep fucking him just like that, pulling yourself up and dropping back down on the lengthy cock inside of you. your ass smacks against his thighs on the landing, and it joins your ragged breathing and satoru’s huffs as the only sounds in the room. he can’t help but to meet your hips with his own thrusts, not keen on taking the reigns back but adding to the insurmountable pleasure you both feel.

“will you cum with me? please, ‘toru- need to feel you..” god, how could he ever deny you when you ask so sweetly, one hand still on his chest and the other on yours, palming at your tit with a pinch of your pert nipple every now and then. his brow is furrowed—plush lips parted with his moans and he’s nodding in response again.

“yeah, baby, yeah- ‘m so fucking- hah- c-close.” a look of focus forms in his eyes when one of his hands slips down from your waist, nimble fingers toying with your sensitive clit. your moans rise in pitch and volume, heart pounding in your chest as you get closer and closer to the edge. you can practically feel him pulsing inside of you, know he’s almost there too, and you ride with more determination, tits bouncing with the effort. he looks so desperate from his position beneath you, desperate to cum, desperate to fill you to the brim with his hot load. you’re left gasping, shouts of his name torn right from your throat when he plants his feet into the mattress and starts to thrust up into you, fingers still pinching and pulling at your engorged nub. he fucks into you so roughly, eyes shifting between the spot where you conjoin, watching raptly as his cock slides in and out of your hole, and your sweet face, mouth hung open and tear streaks on your cheeks. both are a pretty sight to him.

“‘m gonna cum, ‘toru- cum for me, too, need it inside me so fucking bad,” you whimper, and you weren’t lying. only a few more thrusts and some circles rubbed onto your clit and you’re crying his name, creaming all over his cock again. and satoru can’t hold off anymore, doesn’t want to, and the way you clench and squeeze him makes that an impossible feat anyway. he stills his hips the best he can but they still stutter with the intensity of his orgasm, letting out rope after rope after rope of his sticky fluid inside of your needy little hole.

you roll off of him when you get the strength to do it, still panting with the exertion. but satoru is clingy, even more so after sex; so with your eyes closed, you don’t see it, but rather feel the man’s hands tugging you close. he drapes his sweat-sticky body around yours, nuzzling his face into your neck where he leaves a few cheeky kisses.

“thank you.” it’s silent for a while before he speaks, and the words have you cracking your eyes open to look at him. he’s already beaten you to the punch, wide blue eyes looking up at you.

“for what?” you respond, bringing your hand up to smooth his hair down. he practically purrs at the sensation, but he answers you regardless.

“for saying yes to me, to forever.”

the snort that comes out of you is unintentional, but you can’t help it. he sounds silly thanking you for that, so you tell him as much.

“satoru, you make it sound like you had to bribe me into being with you when you say things like that. y’know, i meant what i said, about you being stuck with me. couldn’t get rid of me if you tried, baby. this just makes it..more official.”

“guess that’s true, huh?”

“you’re damn right. and when we get married, i’m going to use my new powers for evil.”

“what??”

“oh, yeah. i’m gonna terrorize everyone. pranks galore. and i’ll tell them gojo did it. and they’ll just assume it was mr. gojo, not the kind and sweet mrs. gojo.”

satoru’s jaw drops, sitting up to gape at you. you just shrug in response, smiling innocently at your soon to be husband. he shakes his head, deep in thought for a moment before he grins, eyes hard set on you.

“what?” you ask, playfully narrowing your own eyes.

“i think i want to marry you tomorrow.”

>authors_note: WELL. it’s finally here (took me long enough i knowwwww🤫) ENDLESS THANKS FOR 100 (we’re almost at 200 now but let’s cross that bridge when we get there heheh)

>next up: firefighter!satosugu (after like 3 months of me talking about it IM SORRYYY)

>thank you for reading ♡︎

>masterlist.exe

>send a request here!

© loko4koko 2024

[sugarandspicewriting]

Hihi!! I saw that you're taking requests? Do you think you could cook up some headcanons for your choice of DC characters with a s/o that really loves to do extravagant makeup? Thank you 🫶

Super Graphic Ultra Modern Girl Like Me

Summary: DC characters (Starfire, Wonderwoman, and Jason) react to your extravagant makeup

Warnings: Mentions of people making fun of you

Starfire (Koriand'r)

I imagine there are probably some kind of cosmetic routines on Tamaran, but the standards of beauty are different.

I think she would be interested to see what you do and why. She doesn’t judge how extravagant your makeup is, because her frame reference is skewed. All makeup seems extravagant to her

I do think she’d be horrified by fake lashes at first if that’s something you do.

“What are you doing, my star?” 

“I’m putting glue on a fake lash strip to put on my eyes!”

“You… glue fake lashes on your eyes? But you already have eyelashes? How do you get them off?”

“I just rip them off-”

“What?!?”

Seriously we never talk about how crazy fake lashes are.

If you let her, she’d want to watch you do your routine and grill you on what you’re doing and why. It might feel a little weird doing your makeup and she’s just sitting there like :0

Don’t mind her, she just loves you.

Might make you feel bad about how little you know.

“So this liquid goes on your lips? What ingredients are in it? Is it safe to consume?”

Oof. Now I feel stupid.

After careful studying, she’ll ask if she can try

Let her do your makeup for you. A 6 feet tall lady pulling you into her lap and doing your graphic eyeliner under your instruction. Yes. Call me Homotron 3000.

Honestly it might be a little rough the first time but that just gives her an excuse to do it again

She will absolutely defend your makeup if someone comments on it. She considers what you do to be an art worth studying. 

Scary dog gf privileges.

WonderWoman (Diana) 

Fresh from Themyscira Diana might be similar to Starfire.

They didn’t have makeup, but they probably had morning grooming routines. She would have similar reservations about fake lashes and ingredients. 

But if we’re talking about a Diana that has been here a while and is familiar with Earth culture, she’s probably more concerned about your why.

She questions why you do your makeup in this way.

But not in a judgemental way.

“Why is it that you do such exaggerated makeup? It is not how others do it?” 

“I like how it looks”

“I see. It is pretty”

And then she’d go back to whatever she was doing.

She would find your makeup amusing.She finds a lot of what humans do amusing.

Like sorry we can’t all be blessed with beauty by the gods. Damn.

She would still defend your choices though.

If someone were to comment on it in a negative way with her around, all she’d have to do is give them a look and they’d stop. 

Scary dog gf privileges part 2

Red Hood (Jason Todd)

Scary dog bf privileges but he’s actually going to bite people

Biting is more of a Damian thing but he will defend you.

Feminist king balances the “You look beautiful without makeup” and “I think your makeup is so cool” without being annoying. How does he do it?

He is friends with Artemis and Donna so he’s familiar with most of what you're doing. 

He enjoys sitting with you while you do your makeup. His life has been so chaotic that little moments of calm and domesticity mean a lot to him. He might watch you and chat, but he might sit quietly and read a book or check his phone and enjoy the comfortable silence between you.

If you ask nicely he’ll read to you

If someone were to insult you for what you do he would not let that slide.

He’s not going to immediately escalate it to violence; mostly because he doesn’t need to.

He can do that teacher thing where he can just look at someone and they act right.

Because he’s over 6 ft and 200 pounds. It’s giving Bruce energy a little bit but don’t tell him that.

[badasbebi]

the cupid project ➛ 1/2

part two

✦ pairing: bada lee x fem!reader

✦ summary: you and your long-term work crush devise a plan to win a company contest. in the end, you wind up going to extreme lengths to commit to the bit

✦ genre/au: fluff, fake dating, videographer reader, bada's extra sweet here, slight friends to lovers

✦ word count: 7k

✦ warnings: isn't proofread. another unrealistic meet cute that doesn't really make sense. smut in part 2

✦ a/n: another two-parter simply bc my fics are too long. 2nd part is finished and will, again, be posted soon (literally tomorrow). didnt put as much thought into this one as I have with my other stories, which will probably be a pattern from now. still think its fun. enjoy!

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

"It's been three minutes. Why are we still waiting on people?" Youngj fusses, running his fingers through his hair, tousling it

"Relax, Jae. You called us here last-minute. People are busy," Minho says from where he is sitting, scrolling through his phone.

Youngj's eyes snap to him. "Too busy for an emergency meeting with their boss?" He retorts, raising an eyebrow. 

Minho looks at him, then shrugs. "Well, that's what happens when you hire a bunch of ultra-talented, sought-after dancers. We don't need you," He finishes, swiftly turning back around, sunglasses concealing his eyes. 

Youngj gapes for a second, then seemingly surrenders, slouching back in his chair with a scowl. 

Meanwhile, you're balancing a camera lens in your hand on the sofa across from them, twisting and turning the machinery in your hand as you stifle your laughter. Still being somewhat new to the team, you weren't sure if you necessarily had the right to take part in Minho's teasing. You became an employee at JustJerk Dance Academy only six months ago, after JustJerk announced that they were looking for new hires. However, you weren't a part of their star-studded lineup of top choreographers and instructors. Instead, you were hired to be a videographer and photographer, working behind the scenes to ensure that every breathtaking move, every impassioned sequence, and every dancer was captured flawlessly. 

Which, it was not like it was very hard. The people here were phenomenal enough as it was, making your time spent at work nothing less than a blessing for someone who's long watched dancers from the sidelines. Even better, the members of JustJerk Dance Academy aren't just a group of talented dancers, but also a lovely group of people. They're kind and caring, often inviting you out to eat after a long day of filming or helping you with the things you struggled with. Sometimes, you still got awestruck around them because it was such a far cry from what you were used to. But, it was beginning to feel like home. And, as the days went by, everyone started to feel more and more like family.

Well, almost everyone.

Suddenly, you hear the doors swing open and glance up to see who's arrived.

"Sorry I'm late," A voice rings throughout the room, revealing none other than the legend herself, Bada Lee. 

Even after having passed by her a million times, the woman never failed to take your breath away. She was gorgeous and had an allure unlike anyone else, with a presence that seemed to shift the energy in every room she entered. In other words, she was also intimidatingly cool, which led to you frequently avoiding her because you were, simply, terrified. Though she's always been nothing but sweet and brilliant during your brief interactions, this kindness almost made things worse. It'd be much easier to disregard her if she was an asshole. Unluckily for you, she was one of the most charming people you've encountered in your life, making it nearly impossible to ignore the magnetic pull that's been causing an increasing amount of debauched thoughts and dreams. 

Bada walks toward the rest of the group with an apologetic smile on her face. Her long, black and blonde hair was tied back in a bun, and her baggy clothes were noticeably wrinkled, suggesting that she came straight from practice. Despite her slightly disheveled appearance, she looked as enticing as ever. 

You avert your gaze and continue playing with the camera equipment in your hands, attempting to appear nonchalant. 

"What happened? You're never late," Youngj asks, sitting upright. 

"I was helping one of my students out with a routine and got a little distracted. Sorry," Bada explains with a pout, sitting down on a separate couch next to yours. You keep your eyes on the camera in your hands.

"Don't worry about it, I just need everyone's attention for a few moments," Youngj says, scanning the room. "Is this everyone?"

"No, Redllic should be coming in soon. She was right behind me," Bada says, looking over at the door.

Your eyebrow inadvertently quirks up at the sound of Redllic's name escaping her lips. 

"Good enough, then. Let's get started," Youngj leans forward in his seat, clapping his hands together. "I want to first apologize to all of you for calling you here so abruptly. Unfortunately, this was the only time I had to get you all here together.”

Everyone eagerly waits for him to speak, the air thick with curiosity as Youngj takes a deep breath, his gaze shifting from one person to another.

"So, to clarify, I didn't call you guys here for anything particularly important."

Minho laughs bitterly. "I fucking knew it."

Youngj gives him a pointed look before continuing. "There's a special event that the company is holding and I wanted to inform all of you about it in-person, because even though it isn’t anything to worry about, it is admittedly a bit...unusual for us."

"What is it?" Redllic asks, appearing out of thin air. Everyone, except for Bada, jumps slightly, surprised by her sudden arrival.

"Redllic!" Youngj says, placing a hand on his heart. "You scared the hell out of me."

"Oh, sorry," Redllic shrugs, plopping down next to Bada, throwing her feet onto the coffee table. "What's going on?"

"Right, um," Youngj clears his throat. "As I was saying, there's an event that we're hosting for Valentine's Day. We're calling it the 'Cupid Project.' Basically, you're all going to get into pairs, and you'll be doing a variety of activities together," Youngj explains, his eyes scanning the group, watching the reactions on everyone's faces. 

Ew, is the immediate word that pops into your head. This reminded you of the group projects your teachers forced you to do in school. You can already see how this project will play out, and it's probably not going to be pretty. Based on the skeptical expressions you can make out, you are at least relieved to see that you aren't the only one feeling hesitant. 

"What kind of activities?" Bada asks softly, tilting her head.

"Just activities to get to know each other. Doing things you wouldn't normally do," Youngj replies, shrugging his shoulders. "Jho and I have some planned activities, but the point is for you and your partner to find things to do voluntarily. If we plan everything out for you guys, then it'll be completely forced."

"Wait, wait, wait," Minho interjects, pushing his sunglasses onto the top of his head. "So, you're telling me I have to go on a date with someone here?"

"No," Youngj shakes his head. "We're not forcing you to fall in love or anything. This is purely platonic, just a fun way to bond with each other. And there'll be a prize," Youngj says, wagging his finger.

"A prize?" Minho echos, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes. You and your partner will compete against the others and the pair who does the most activities and seems to have actually become good friends with each other will win a reward."

"How are you measuring that?" Hoyeon, another videographer, asks. 

"We'll conduct anonymous votes and collect them at the Valentine's Day party we're hosting," Youngj explains. "But, it's not supposed to be all that serious, everyone. We're just trying to do something fun and, you know, team-build since we've gotten a lot of new hires recently. And, we'll get a good video out of it. We're planning on making a highlight reel of the Cupid Project for our Youtube Channel, which will be nice promotional material, too."

So that's what this was really about: content. Truthfully, you wouldn't have an issue with this if it were not very likely that you'd be the one filming or editing this highlight reel. You internally groan, realizing you'll have to deal with an increased workload because of this clusterfuck. 

"I think it's a great idea," Redllic says, a mischievous smirk on her face. You watch her glance at Bada, who is staring at nothing with an unreadable look in her eyes.

"Well, what's the prize?" Minho asks. 

"600,000 KRW"

Others around the room whisper in excitement. You almost drop your camera. Out of shock, yes, but also because that was exactly the amount of money you needed to buy a brand new camera that you've been eyeing for ages. You've been wanting to record more complex videos, wanting to work on actual music video sets, but your current setup is limiting you. If you were able to get your hands on that camera now, you'd be about a year or two ahead of the original timeline you had in mind. You bite the inside of your lip, hoping Youngj doesn't see the desperation in your eyes.

"Holy shit," Hoyeon mutters. 

The two of you make eye contact, and you already know that the two of you are working together. You were close, having joined the company at the same time and being around the same age. This would be an easy win. 

"Alright, so it's settled, then," Youngj says, a confident grin forming on his face.

"Are we choosing our own partners?" Redllic asks, moving a blonde strand of hair away from her face. 

"No. That would lead to a bunch of people asking to be paired with people they're already friends with, which would make the whole thing pointless. We're drawing names out of a hat," Youngj says, gesturing towards the baseball cap resting on the coffee table.

Everyone collectively groans. You try not to cry. 

"Stop, come on, don't make this difficult," Youngj frowns. "The sooner you choose, the more time you have to prepare. Now, who wants to go first? I already have your names written,"

"Wait, let me go first," Hoyeon volunteers, jumping up and grabbing the hat. She reaches her hand inside and picks a small slip of paper out, then reads it aloud. You bite your lip, praying.

"Howl," Hoyeon declares, holding the piece of paper out for everyone to see. 

Your name is not Howl, but you nearly howl right then and there. Realistically, the probability that you would get who you wanted was unlikely considering the number of people in the room. Nonetheless, it hurt. 

The man with the wolf-centric name quietly stands and moves away from the corner he was situated in. He had been quiet the entire meeting, and most did not really notice he was there until Hoyeon mentioned his name.

"Guess it's you and me," Hoyeon laughs, smiling at the tall figure beside her.

Howl gives her a slight smile, shakes her hand, and they sit back down.

"Alright, Bada. Why don't you come over here?" Youngj says, gesturing to the coffee table.

"The one that everyone wants, I'm sure," Redllic comments with a bemused smirk, causing a clamor of chuckles.

Bada scoffs, and heads over to the table. She reaches into the hat, rustling through the papers. You hold your breath, reminding yourself of the unlikelihood that you'd be the name she pulled. However, as the woman's fingers curl around a single sheet of paper, your heart skips a beat. You feel as if you were the one reaching into the hat.

Bada pulls the paper out and unfolds it, her eyes scanning the sheet. Then, her eyes lock with yours, and your heart leaps. 

"Y/N," Bada calls out, holding the paper up.

You freeze, the room spinning around you. There's no way. 

Bada cocks her head to the side. "It's you, right?"

"Oh! Um, yeah," You sputter, quickly gathering the camera equipment around you.

You hear whispers and feel a hundred pairs of eyes on you as you walk over to the girl. You ignore the feeling of your skin burning. 

"Hey, Y/N. It's nice to officially meet you. I've seen you around a lot," Bada says, eyes warm.

"Yeah, nice to officially meet you, too," You say, extending your hand.

Her hand is warm and soft, enveloping yours like a blanket. Your hand feels cold and sweaty. 

"Interesting," Redllic quips, eyes darting between you two, a glint in her gaze. Bada tears her eyes away from you, giving the blonde woman a questioning look as she retracts her hand.

You take the opportunity to step away, returning to your seat and letting the other dancers pull names. The rest of the pairings are revealed without much commotion, except for Minho's, who loudly complains when he has to partner up with Jaeyong, a good choreographer, but awkward man. 

After all the names are drawn, everyone is dismissed. You're quick to leave the room, eager to return to the comfort of your familiar space behind the camera.

"Y/n! Slow down! We need to talk!" Hoyeon calls, catching up to you.

You turn around, side-stepping out of the way of people walking past you in the hallway. You wait for her to stop in front of you before you speak."With all due respect, I don't really want to talk right now. I just want to record. Then go home, and eat some ramen."

"With Bada?" Hoyeon sings, a cheeky grin forming on her face.

"Shut up," You mumble, rolling your eyes and continuing down the hall.

"Wait, why are you so bummed?" Hoyeon starts, following behind you, "Bada's cool?"

You sigh. "Exactly. She's cool. I'm...not."

"What? Yes, you are. Why would you think otherwise?" Hoyeon scoffs, her eyes narrowed.

"I just," You pause in the hallway again, trying to formulate the words. "I'm a little scared of her, is all."

"Scared?" Hoyeon questions, her forehead wrinkling. "She's nice though. You don't have anything to worry about."

"Yeah, but she's so pretty, and talented, and again, I'm not. Not in the way extraordinary way that she is, I mean.” You explain, shoulders slumping. 

A look of realization dawns upon Hoyeon's face, and she laughs menacingly. "Oh, I see what this is. You think she's hot, and you're a scaredy cat who's afraid of rejection. Case closed. I understand."

"That's not how I would phrase things but, essentially, yes," You concede, turning the corner.

"You're being silly. She's not a god. She's literally just a human being...a very sexy human being but a human being nonetheless. Just talk to her like one," Hoyeon suggests, shrugging her shoulders. "I mean, are you not going to try to get that money? I know you want it. I saw that crazed look in your eye once Youngj made it to that fifth zero."

You laugh, "I mean, yes, I really want that money. I don't know if it's possible though. Even if I wanted to reach out to her, she’s so busy I doubt she's planning on actually committing to this. Especially because she's already loaded."

"You don't know until you try you wimp," Hoyeon says, nudging you in the arm.

"Ow," You groan, rubbing the spot in a manner that probably proves her point. "Aren't you going to try for the money too? Where's Howl, huh?"

"We're friends already, it'll be chill. I don't know if we'll necessarily win the money, but, like, we'll have a good time," Hoyeon states, grinning.

"Ugh, gross," You say, sticking out your tongue.

She ignores your immaturity. "What do you wanna do with the money anyway?" Hoyeon asks, leaning against the wall next to an entrance to one of the dance studios.

"Remember that equipment I told you about? So I can start working on sets?"

"Oh, right," Hoyeon says, crossing her arms. "You said that you've been wanting to do that for a while, y/n. Are you really not going to talk to Bada? I’ve recorded with her a few times now and I mean it when I say that she's nice as hell. I feel like she'd probably be down, or, at the very least, will understand if you explain things to her. "

"I'll try. Maybe. At some point. It's not going to be today, though," you mutter, reaching for the studio door before you are stopped by Hoyeon jabbing her french-tipped fingernail into your chest. 

"You better. Or else," Hoyeon threatens, a dark expression coming over her. 

"Move your finger, please," You say, swatting her hand away.

Hoyeon rolls her eyes. "Whatever. Good luck filming. I'm gonna go find Howl. Love ya,"

"Yeah, yeah. Have fun," You wave goodbye to her as she walks down the hall, pulling out her phone.

Once she's out of sight, you release a deep sigh and push open the door, only to be met with the sight of a familiar face. 

"Oh," You breathe.

Bada turns, a surprised expression on her face. "Y/n, hi. Were you coming in?"

"Um, yeah," You reply, slowly entering the room and closing the door behind you. "Are you rehearsing something?"

"Yeah," Bada answers, glancing at the mirror.

"Sorry. I can go-"

"No, no, don't worry about it. If you need to film in here, that's fine. I'll just go next door," Bada says, waving her hand.

You pause, taking a breath. Now’s your chance. "Actually, forget the recording, could I talk to you real quick? About the...cupid thing?"

"Yeah, of course. I was actually hoping we'd get a chance to talk," Bada grins, sitting down on the floor and patting the spot beside her.

You hesitantly walk over and sit down next to her. You take a moment to compose yourself, running your fingers along the smooth fabric of your pants.

"So," Bada prompts.

"Uh," You stammer, wracking your brain for what you were supposed to say. "Um, well, I just wanted to say that, uh, you are really, um, talented. And-oh, this sounds really weird." You finish, running a palm down your face in embarrassment. 

"No, no, it's not," Bada chuckles, a gentle smile on her face. "Thank you, though. But, um, that's not what you wanted to say, right?"

"Right. Sorry," You apologize, a rush of blood filling your cheeks.

"Don't worry. Take your time. We have a lot of it," Bada reminds you, studying the expression on your face. Her voice and words are calming, but her staring is freaking freaking you out further. 

You take another deep breath, hoping to quell your nerves. "Okay. I'm sorry. Uh, I'll try again. What I really wanted to say is, I know that it’s a stupid contest, and that you probably don't care about winning, but I actually really want to participate in that project and win that prize money. And, I was hoping you'd, maybe, help me win?" Before she can respond, you launch into another tangent. "I'm sorry, you're probably busy, which is okay, but I just want to upgrade my equipment so I can get more opportunities outside of-"

"Hey," Bada says, gently laying her hand on top of yours. "Of course I'll help you. You don't have to apologize. I think it'll be fun."

You nearly spiral, but Bada's touch is surprisingly soothing, and you calm down despite your anxiety. 

"Oh, wow. Thank you, so much," You breathe.

"It's not a big deal, seriously. I'm looking forward to it," Bada insists, squeezing your hand.

You stare at her, and her kind, sparkling eyes. What have you gotten yourself into?

You both sit there for a second, a pregnant pause in the air, before you quickly pull your hand away, remembering how sweaty they were.

Bada smiles, unphased. Then, she begins tapping her fingers rhythmically against the ground, a contemplative look on her face as she stares at the space where your hands were previously intertwined. 

"So," Bada suddenly looks up. "If you're just in it to win it, and you really want a fair shot, I think we need to do something a little extreme."

You blink, scared. "What do you mean…extreme?"

She bites her lip and you have to resist the urge to stare. "Youngj said this was supposed to be platonic, so that's how most people are going to approach it. How do we seem better or stronger than other platonic relationships? What’s more intense than that?"

You must be misunderstanding where she's going with this. "Um, a romantic one?" You say, furrowing your eyebrows.

To your shock, she nods. "Exactly. Y/n, I'm saying that we should make our Cupid partnership a romantic one," Bada states, her expression serious.

Your head is spinning. She is taking this much more seriously than you were anticipating. You were expecting to just go out for coffee a few times, and maybe post a picture of your twinning lattes on instagram to sell your friendship. You have no idea how to process this more intense proposition.

"Are you suggesting that we pretend to date each other?" You confirm.

A beat of silence. She leans back slightly, her eyes flickering. "I mean, yeah. Sure," She pauses. "Unless you're not comfortable with that."

"I am," You respond, the lie escaping your mouth with ease. 

Bada's eyes widen and she sits up, a smile growing on her face. "You're sure? If you're not cool with that, we don't have to. I know the idea is a little bit out there. I just, uh, want to help," She babbles, her fingers tapping against the floor again. 

You laugh. Was Bada Lee nervous? "I'm not uncomfortable with it. I trust you. As long as it helps us win,"

"It will, I promise. I'll make it worth your while," Bada vows, her expression determined.

"I can't wait," You laugh again, feeling the butterflies in your stomach flutter.

"Cool," She breathes, her body relaxing. "Well, I should go. I'll talk to you tomorrow?"

You grin, nodding. "Yeah, that'd be great."

"Awesome," She smiles, standing up. She reaches her down and grabs your hand, pulling you up. "I'm not gonna be able to actually meet-up with you tomorrow because I have something scheduled, but I already have your phone number. I'll text you."

You nod, distracted and unable to speak as her soft fingers brush against your palm.

"Bye-bye," She waves cutely, her long legs swiftly carrying her across the room. You wave back, her departing smile etched into your brain as you watch the door click shut behind her. Then, you're alone. 

You stare at the floor, processing the interaction. You had just agreed to pretend to date one of the hottest and most intimidating women you had ever met. You had no clue why you did it. Maybe the promise of money and fulfilled dreams had blinded you. Still, the whole thing seemed a little too ridiculous. Too dangerous. 

But there was no backing out now. You already went through the trouble of telling Bada about your desperation, and you told her that you trusted her. You'd have to commit. 

"Well," you whisper, hugging yourself in a soothing motion. "Here goes nothing."

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

You fidget within the plush confines of your seat, hesitantly glancing around your dimly lit surroundings as you twist a gleaming piece of silverware between your fingers. Your other hand remains in your lap, afraid to touch the red linen covering your table. Your gaze settles on a couple a few tables away from you, clinking their wine glasses together with pompous grins. It crosses your mind that the wine they're drinking is probably worth more than the money you're doing all of this for, and you make the executive decision to reach for the bottle of wine the woman sitting across from you generously bought. 

When you drop your fork to outstretch your hand toward the bottle, the woman in question seems to notice, hurriedly grabbing ahold of it before you can reach it, and pours the liquid into your glass, herself. 

"Thank you," you murmur, retracting your hand and finally allowing it to fall on the table. 

"No problem," Bada replies, her voice warm and velvety, like the wine. She pushes your drink toward you, and you hurriedly snatch it up to take a large gulp, allowing it to trickle down your throat. The heat of the alcohol soothes your anxiety, and you exhale deeply. 

Your relief lasts for approximately one millisecond. Because, in the next, you're putting your drink down and are being reminded of the predicament you've gotten yourself into. Bada's preoccupation with her menu gives you the chance to observe the way the soft glow emanating from a nearby lamp illuminates her features. The light traces the curves of her face, accentuating every perfect line. Her eyebrows furrow in concentration, compelling you to consider reaching over the table to smooth the lines over with your thumb. When you try to look away, your gaze locks on the pouting of her lips as she focuses on whatever she's reading. 

"I'm thinking of getting the Frutti Di Mare," she voices, snapping you out of your trance. She sets the menu down and looks up, a gentle smile on her face.

"I don't know what that is," you respond dumbly. 

She laughs, the sound light and airy, causing the skin near her eyes to wrinkle adorably. "I thought Italian was your favorite?"

"It is," you confirm, feeling flustered. "I just-the Italian places I go to are super watered down. The fanciest thing you'll see there is fettuccini alfredo,"

"That makes sense," Bada nods, her smile turning playful. "Then, I'll let you know what it is. It's basically seafood. I think it's usually served with pasta."

"Ah," you reply, nodding slowly. "Tasty."

Bada laughs again, and you feel like a scratched CD—unable to get any words out, twitching in place, devilish sounds threatening to enemate from you at any moment. "I'll make sure to order an extra portion for you to try. Unless, of course, you don't want me to."

"No, that works. I'm fine with that," you respond, quickly.

"I figured." Bada smiles knowingly.

Your hand clutches your chest. "Hey, is that a little shade? Did I miss it? Please, elaborate," you joke, leaning forward.

Bada giggles. "Maybe. You've been drinking a lot of that wine. And I think you ate most of the breadsticks."

You glance at your breadcrumb filled plate, then at the half-empty basket of breadsticks. "Oh. Wow. I did."

"You did," Bada affirms, her expression amused. She scoots her chair closer and takes a sip of her own drink, her tongue darting out to lick her lips once she's done. You have the overwhelming urge to mimic the motion, but resist, choosing to instead stuff another breadstick in your mouth.

You swallow the last bits of the breadstick, wiping the crumbs off of your mouth, only for a new, smaller, crumb to appear. Bada notices, and when she raises her arm, your breath hitches. You feel her soft hand graze the side of your face, the pad of her thumb rubbing the crumb off your lip.

"There we go," Bada smiles, satisfied. You can't help but lean into her touch, the warmth of her skin a pleasant contrast against the cold room.

You're startled out of the moment when the waiter appears, setting a basket of warm bread down. You jump, moving away from Bada.

"Have we decided what we'd like to eat?" he asks, his accent thick.

Bada nods, seemingly unaffected by the exchange. "Yes, we're ready. I'll have the Frutti di Mare."

"Great choice," the waiter says. "And, for you, miss?"

"Um, Spaghetti," you answer, your voice strained. 

The waiter scribbles down the order. "Anything else to drink?"

"I’m good, thank you," Bada answers, her tone sweet, smiling gratefully at the man.

"I'll be right back with your food," the waiter bows his head, his ponytail bouncing, and swiftly leaves the table, leaving the two of you alone. 

Avoiding eye contact with Bada, you grab ahold of your glass and drink. The air crackles with something subtle, and you find yourself stealing glances at Bada’s pretty face in between sips, your cheeks warming.

But you needed to get down to business. It’s already been two days since you discussed fake-dating, and this is the first time you’ve done anything together. The clock was ticking.

You placed your drink down on the table and swallowed loudly, causing Bada to stop fiddling with the napkin in front of her in favor of looking at you. 

"So," you start.

"So," she copies.

"What's the plan?" you ask, drumming your fingers against the table.

Bada's eyebrows furrow again. "The plan?"

"For the whole Cupid thing," you clarify.

"Oh," she says, blinking. "Right. Well, I was thinking, that this was sort of the plan."

"This being..."

"Dinner. At a fancy restaurant," she responds, gesturing to her surroundings. "People will see us hanging out together here, and it'll get the rumor mill running. I wouldn't be surprised if the media picked it up, honestly. I think it's a pretty solid first step. We're just planting the seeds,"

You nod. "Yeah, okay. That makes sense. How do we get from here to actually dating?"

She leans back in her chair, pondering the question. "Hm. I don't know. An Instagram post, maybe? A soft launch?"

You consider this. "Okay, sure. But, what would the picture be of? This is all so, vague."

Bada shrugs, nonchalant. "We'll figure it out as we go. We're gonna be spending a lot of time together for the next few days so there'll be plenty of opportunities for pictures. For now, I think we should just enjoy dinner. We're supposed to look like a couple in love right now and I don't know if trying to scientifically plan a soft launch is really giving romance."

"Right," you sigh. "Sorry."

"Don't apologize," Bada says, reaching across the table to give your hand a quick squeeze.

You're interrupted by the waiter returning, bringing the food. He carefully sets the dishes down, and a delectable smell fills the air.

"Bon appetit," the waiter bows his head and disappears again.

"Thanks," you call after him, taking a moment to observe the meal.

"It looks great," Bada comments, reaching for her fork.

"It does," you agree, grabbing your own utensils. You take a tentative bite, moaning loudly as the flavors immediately explode in your mouth. "Holy fuck."

Bada stares at you, wide-eyed and frozen, a piece of pasta still stuck on her fork.

You blush, covering your mouth. "Oh my gosh, sorry."

She gulps, snapping out of her stupor. "No, no, it's fine. That was just, a, uh. It seems like you really like it!"

"It's really good," you confirm, your words muffled by the food.

"I can tell," Bada chuckles, her voice low and her eyes twinkling.

"Sorry. I'm gonna try not to embarrass myself any more," you say, chewing more delicately.

She laughs softly. "There's no need to apologize. You're funny, y/n," Bada says, the sincerity of her words and the fondness in her tone making heat rise to your cheeks. 

You eat the rest of your food quietly, listening to the bustling noise around you, the sound of Bada's utensils clinking against her plate unusually relaxing.

As you're finishing your last bits of pasta, a group of loud voices and giggles pass by your table. One of the girls, a brunette, notices the two of you and stops.

"Oh, my god," you hear the girl not-so-discreetly whisper, clutching her friends' arms. "Is that who I think it is?"

You glance at Bada, and she's looking at you. You raise an eyebrow.

"Bada Lee and...I don't know who that is? Who is that?" The brunette's friend replies.

You look down, pretending not to hear the conversation.

"I don't know either. You think that's her girlfriend?"

"Girlfriend?! No way. They're probably just hanging out or something."

At this, Bada drops her fork and reaches across the table for your hand, grabbing it gently.

"You okay, baby?" Bada asks, her tone sugary sweet.

You're taken aback by the pet name. But, you decide to play along. You smile at her, placing your other hand over hers. "I'm fine, sweetie. Just a little tired."

"Do you wanna leave, honey?"

"I think I'll be fine," you grin.

"If you're sure," Bada smiles, stroking the back of your hand with her thumb.

"I'm positive, honey bunch," you affirm, biting onto your bottom lip to contain your laughter. 

"Aw, they're cute!" the brunette sighs. "I've gotta tell Sooyoung about this."

"Yeah, we should leave them alone, though. Let's go."

You and Bada watch the pair walk away. As soon as the women are out of sight, the two of you burst into laughter, dropping the facade.

"Did you see their faces?" Bada giggles.

"'Who is that?'" you imitate, your voice high pitched and nasal.

"Baby," Bada says, smirking. 

You laugh, but the endearment sends butterflies to your stomach. "Sweetie."

"Honey bunch," Bada grins.

"Honey bunny," you fire back.

"My love," she replies, tilting her head with a smirk, her voice playful. 

"Lovebug," you answer, raising an eyebrow.

"Is this foreplay?" she jokes, laughing. 

"I mean, if you want it to be, I'm not stopping you," you say, the words slipping out before you can stop yourself. Bada's eyes shoot up, and you feel slightly mortified and shocked by your own brazenness. 

"Do you mean that?" Bada asks, her voice dropping down an octave.

You open your mouth, then shut it. This is odd. You were regretting your lack of filter at first, but Bada seemed a bit too intrigued by the idea of consensual foreplay with you. She could just be joking, or really committing to the fake-dating bit. The look in her eyes was telling you otherwise, though.

However, you're cut off by the waiter reappearing. "May I interest you in dessert, or shall I bring the check?" he asks.

"Just the check, please," she says, not breaking eye contact with you.

The waiter bows, leaving the table once more.

You opt to stare down at the table. "I'll pay half," you offer, avoiding her earlier question.

"It's on me," Bada says. "I brought you here."

"Thank you."

"It's no problem," she says, a small smile on her lips.

Once the waiter comes back, Bada gives him her card. When he returns to your table with the receipt, Bada locks eyes with you, your heart thumping loudly.

"Let's get out of here," Bada says, and you nod.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

You stand at the entrance of the restaurant, a gentle breeze caressing your face. Your hands are stuffed in the pockets of your coat, and the chilly air nips at the tip of your nose.

"Are you ready?" Bada asks from behind you. You turn around to look at her, and the way her eyes reflect the light of the streetlamps above you causes your chest to tighten.

"Ready," you confirm, a hint of a smile on your face.

"Alright," Bada says, shoving her phone, which you don't remember seeing her pull out, into her coat pocket. She leads you to her car, opening the passenger seat door for you.

"Thanks," you smile, and she responds with a nod. 

After the door is closed, she goes around to the driver's seat, starting the engine and driving out of the parking lot. You're both silent as she navigates through the streets. You peer out the window, watching the city lights flicker and blur as you replay tonight's events, attempting to ignore the now obvious tension. 

"So," Bada breaks the silence, causing you to whip your head toward her. "You still haven't fully explained to me what plans you have in mind for that camera you're wanting so badly."

"Well," you begin, relieved that she took the conversation in this direction. "I love what I do at JustJerk. Seriously, watching you guys dance is amazing, and the people are the best. But, I don't want my career to end there. I want to do more on top of that, diversify my portfolio and all. What I really want to do is get onto a music video set. Maybe start directing, too. One day."

Bada hums and smiles. "That's amazing."

"Thanks," you grin, scratching the back of your neck.

"With all due respect, though, do you really need the new equipment for that? You do such a good job with our choreography videos. I don't know anything about videography, but I'd be surprised if that alone couldn't get your foot in the door."

"Well," you draw out, considering your words. "That's probably true. But, I don't think I'm that lucky. The equipment will help, the camera will be useful...the lenses will be nice to have…”

Bada frowns. "Have you given it a shot yet, though? As much as I'm going to try my hardest to help you win this money, realistically, there's a good chance that we still won't win. I'd hate to see you postpone your dreams just because of this camera, or because of this project."

You pause, staring at the car's interior, listening to the sound of the engine running, lost in thought. You weren't sure if it was because you admired Bada so much, or if it was something about her tone, but you were actually starting to rethink things. Perhaps you were holding yourself back a bit. 

"Maybe," you simply respond, unable to say much else. 

"I mean, the equipment will probably help," Bada concedes. "But, not having it won't stop you, I'm sure. Our videographers really don't get enough credit. But, you're all great and you're especially amazing at what you do, y/n. The only reason why I haven't gotten around to working with you is because the other dancers keep getting to you first," she admits, bitterly. 

"Wow," you breathe. "Thank you."

"Of course. You're awesome," she says, the confidence in her words filling your heart.

"So are you," you say, turning away from her, trying not to blush.

"I know. You’ve said it already," Bada smirks, and you simply roll your eyes. 

A more comfortable silence envelops the two of you, and the tension from before dissipates. You lean back in the passenger seat, a smile on your face, feeling content.

Soon, Bada pulls up outside of your apartment, and you're disappointed. 

"This is you," Bada announces.

"Yep," you nod.

"I had a lot of fun tonight," she says, smiling.

"Me too," you reply with a matching smile. "Thank you for dinner."

"It was no problem," she states, waving her hand.

You step outside, but, before closing the car door, you hesitate. "Um," you say, unsure.

"What is it?" Bada asks, a hint of worry in her tone.

"Can I give you a hug?" you blurt out.

Bada looks startled, but her expression softens. "Sure," she nods, turning the engine off and stepping outside.

You meet her on the sidewalk, and pull her into a hug, wrapping your arms around her torso and pressing your cheek against her chest. She hugs back, and you swear that you can hear her heartbeat.

"Goodnight," Bada whispers into your hair.

"Goodnight," you echo, pulling away, already missing her warmth.

She opens the car door again, ducking inside. "Text me when you get upstairs," she instructs.

"I will," you promise.

"Great. Goodnight, y/n," she smiles.

"Goodnight, Bada," you reply, watching her drive away. Once her car disappears, you sigh.

As you trudge up the stairs to your apartment, a single question repeats in your mind: What the fuck am I doing?

You finish cleaning up and getting ready for bed approximately two hours later. As you lay in bed, scrolling through social media, a post from a JustJerk fanpage catches your eye. It's a picture of Bada and you together at dinner, with the caption, "Caught on a date?!"

You laugh at the predictability of the situation, and just as you're about to turn off your phone, you think to check Bada's Instagram, curious. She posted a new story.

You tap it, and it's a picture of you, taken from behind, standing outside the restaurant. There are no words attached to the picture. Just one, pink heart.

You smile, saving the picture, and fall asleep with the image burned into your mind.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Three days later, you are stationed near your camera, watching Bada teach. The day after your fake dinner date, she sent you a text describing the next stage of the plan, which was attending each other's events and collaborating in public whenever it seemed right. This initially felt like an excellent idea. You'd been dying to watch and record one of Bada's classes since you started working at JustJerk, and it brought you guys one step closer to convincing everyone you were seriously dating. What could go wrong?

The actual execution of this idea turned out to be much more distressing than you previously imagined. It started this morning when you were filming Minho's class. You kneeled in the front of the room, prepping your camera as Minho made rounds around the studio to talk to his students individually. Engrossed with your equipment, you didn't hear the sounds of the door opening and closing, or the following eruption of loud murmuring. It was not until you saw a pair of sneakers stop in front of you and caught a whiff of a now-familiar sweet aroma, that you bothered to glance up. When you did, you found yourself making eye contact with Bada, holding a bouquet.

"These are for you," Bada said, a proud smile on her face. 

Your jaw dropped and you scrambled to get up, almost knocking the camera over. They were roses, vibrant and beautiful against the dull gray of the dance studio. No one had done this for you before. 

"They're gorgeous," you whispered, accepting the flowers.

"I'm glad you think so," she replied, her smile deepening as she observed your reaction. You cradled the bouquet in your hands, inhaling the smell of the roses with a pleased hum and missing the endeared expression on Bada's face. You certainly didn’t see the way she started to lean forward to press a soft kiss to your forehead. Shocked, you loosened your grip on the bouquet, feeling nothing but the rush of warmth spread through every inch of you as a result of her tiny peck. 

She shifted back, as relaxed as ever. "I gotta go, but I'll see you later?" 

"Definitely," you nod, clutching the bouquet once again, head spinning.

"Great." She nodded, then made her way out of the studio.

After she left, you turned to face the room, only to be met with everyone’s staring. Right. That is what this is about. Getting attention. Nothing else. 

You glanced at Minho, who had a teasing smirk on his face.

"What?" you asked him, scowling. 

"Nothing," he laughed, then restarted his class. 

Now you are recording Bada's class. Or at least, that’s what you’re supposed to be doing. But, having to observe her so confidently lead her students through a routine, hearing her call out corrections with a simultaneously gentle yet demanding tone, noticing how hard her abs are when she lifts her shirt to wipe the sweat from her brow for the last hour? It's been painful. You're so busy trying not to swoon you've nearly forgotten to press record a couple of times.

She suddenly looks at you, flashing a small smile at you accompanied by crinkling eyes. You give her a thumbs-up and quickly shift your gaze toward the camera as if you were busy setting the frame, even though the shot is already perfect.

Bada returns her focus to the class, and the lesson continues. Every once in a while, Bada walks over to you, checking in and asking how everything is going. Each time, she offers a smile, a wink, or some form of encouragement, and every time, it takes everything in your power not to blush. She's clearly playing it up for the audience, but the effect she has on you is no act.

Her students are buying it, though. The moment she gets near you, the girls (and a few guys) start whispering amongst themselves. It's working.

"Alright," Bada claps, signaling the end of the session. "That's it for today. Good job, everybody."

"Thank you, teacher!" they all exclaim, bowing and gathering their things.

You're packing up your camera when you feel a pair of hands grasp your waist. Startled, you drop your tripod.

"Gotcha," Bada giggles.

"Shit, that scared me," you say, placing a hand on your heart.

"Sorry, sorry," she laughs. "How'd the recording go?"

"Pretty good," you say, bending down to pick up the tripod. Bada immediately crouches, beating you to it. "Thank you."

"No problem" she says, straightening up, extending the tripod towards you.

"Thanks," you say again, taking the device from her. "Anyway, you did good. It's not going to need much editing."

"Really?" Bada smiles. "Thank you. That means a lot, actually."

"It’s no problem," you grin, suppressing the fluttering in your stomach. "And, uh, thanks again for the flowers, by the way. They were beautiful."

“You are very welcome. Just fulfilling my fake-girlfriend duties," Bada beams, and you have to look away.

"Well, anyway, I should probably head home," you say, avoiding eye contact. "Gotta get started on the footage."

She tilts her head. "Uh, I don’t think so. That’s gonna have to wait for tomorrow,” 

"Huh? Why?" you ask, confused.

"Because, y/n, we're going bowling with Youngj and them? Don't tell me you forgot," she chides, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh," you say, remembering. "I thought that was supposed to be later."

"It's 7:30," she says, a slight frown on her face.

"Fuck," you curse, running a hand through your hair. "Sorry, I'll get out of here."

"We have to go there together," Bada reminds you.

"Shit. Okay, yeah, let's go," you sigh.

"Are you okay?" she asks, concern etched onto her features.

"Yes. No. Ugh. Sorry, I just had a lot on my mind today. Didn't get much sleep," you say, rubbing your eyes. It wasn’t a complete lie. Ever since your date at the restaurant, you’ve been getting bombarded with messages from friends asking about the two of you, giving you little time to rest alongside your work for Justjerk. There was more going on today, though. 

"That sucks," Bada sympathizes. "Do you wanna talk about it?"

"Not really," you answer, bluntly.

"Okay," she says, softly. "But, if and when you do, I’m all ears."

"Thanks, Bada. I appreciate it," you reply, and a part of you is telling yourself not to get attached. But the bigger part of you, the part that wants nothing more than to fall into her arms, tells that smaller part to fuck off.

"Of course. Anyway, we should really get going," she says, and you follow her out the door, leaving your thoughts and feelings behind.

read part two

[mediossehd]

Best Fake WATCH ULTRA - Looks like the Real but of course, it’s not 😁 - Vwar Ultra Max Review

Best Fake WATCH ULTRA – Looks like the Real but of course, it’s not 😁 – Vwar Ultra Max Review

Top 5 Watch Ultra clones (Fake)1- H11 Ultra UpgradedGet:Hello Watch Smart Watch H11 Ultra Upgraded 49mm Men Series 8 NFC Wireless Charging Bluetooth Call GPS Smartwatch Women 1GBhttps://bit.ly/3vBdwzz 2- HK8 Pro Ultra (fast smart watch, ios and android app not good)Get:HK8 Pro Ultra Smart Watch Series 8 49mm 2.12 inch Real HD Screen High Refresh Rtae NFC Smartwatch Men Sport Fitness Watch pk…

[jossamology]

⸻ until dawn halloween headcanons!

in honor of halloween here's a halloween-themed headcanon set for each until dawn character.

samantha giddings.

sam chooses a diy nature-inspired costume like a woodland fairy, using biodegradable glitter and repurposed fabrics. think leaves, twigs, and soft, earthy greens.

she insists on going to a local pumpkin patch to pick out the perfect pumpkin and spends hours carving designs.

while the others plan for parties, she hosts a low-key gathering with candles, cozy blankets, and homemade pumpkin spice lattes.

loves classic horror but gets super into psychological thrillers. hereditary is her top pick, and she’s the one pointing out foreshadowing before everyone else catches it. josh washington.

josh goes all-out building a haunted maze in his backyard, complete with hidden speakers, fake cobwebs, and scare actors he hires just to freak his friends out.

dresses as something horrifying, like a blood-streaked serial killer. full commitment to fake blood and smudged makeup.

has a camera ready to capture each friend’s reaction when they’re scared out of their minds. keeps a scare montage video just for fun.

he's surprisingly good at carving pumpkins, but his designs are intricate horror scenes, almost like horror movie posters in pumpkin form.

ends halloween by watching obscure, disturbing horror movies that leave everyone else uncomfortable. mike munroe.

shows up dressed as a suave vampire or some other classic monster, aiming to look cool and a little dangerous.

takes his friends to a haunted corn maze and enjoys it way more than he lets on, constantly teasing the jump-scare actors and testing his bravery.

organizes a frat party bonfire in the woods with s’mores and ghost stories. he’s the one lighting sparklers and throwing on extra wood to make the flames bigger, he drinks to much and forgets he's the host of the party.

pulls classic halloween pranks, from fake spider webs to jumping out of dark corners. the type to keep a scary mask in his bag just to mess with people.

after a few drinks, he’s belting out rocky horror picture show songs around the bonfire with zero shame.

jessica riley.

jessica’s costume is elaborate, trendy, and slightly dark, like a glamorous vampire or a witch in haute couture. she’s all about looking spooky-chic, she went shopping early for the best costume.

stays in to watch mean girls with a couple of her girl friends referencing every qoute.

spends half of halloween snapping aesthetic photos of her outfit, snacks, and décor, making everything look flawless.

gets her halloween nails done a week before and flaunts them on her social media platforms.

matt taylor.

he’s the guy bringing pumpkin spice lattes and fall-flavored treats for everyone, unapologetically embracing the season.

suggests doing a couples costume with emily, probably as a famous horror duo. secretly excited about how they’ll look in photos together.

convinces emily(and maybe the whole group) to go on a haunted hayride, keeping a brave face while sneaking glances to see if she’s scared.

volunteers to help with halloween décor, placing spider webs and fake spiders around. he’s got a collection of led bats and ghost lights.

emily davis.

dresses as a chic witch, complete with a designer hat, intricate lace gloves, and knee-high boots. halloween is just another reason to look flawless.

sets up a dark, enchanted photo booth with crystal balls, black roses, and velvet. her instagram feed is a whole halloween masterpiece.

makes sure to get billions of stunning couples photos with matt, each one more perfect than the last. their matching costumes and chemistry are on point, making everyone else a bit envious (and they know it).

emily hosts a halloween themed sleep over with velvet pillows, and black satin sheets for an ultra-cozy but gothic sleepover vibe. the girls chat and laugh till they fall asleep, each secretly keeping one eye open.

chris hartley.

dresses as a ghostbuster or some iconic horror nerd costume, complete with all the gadgets. he’s fully committed to the nostalgia factor.

brings his gear and talks about doing a "ghost hunt." sets up his phone to record “paranormal” activity around the bonfire.

insists on watching horror classics with everyone, pausing every now and then to geek out about the movie effects or the backstory.

after everyone else goes to bed, chris and ashley stay up playing with the ouija board, half-joking but also half-believing they might make contact. they end up spooking themselves and get so scared swearing to never use it again.

ashley brown.

dresses as a character from classic gothic literature, like mina harker from dracula, complete with vintage lace and dark, dramatic makeup.

she knits little ghost ornaments and diys her own creepy decor, like mason jars filled with “witch’s brew” and spiderweb doilies.

loves telling ghost stories, candle in hand, with just the right amount of dramatic pauses and eerie expressions.

ashley, catching her breath and laughing nervously, gives chris a playful whack on the arm for scaring her so bad. “not cool, chris!” she says, but she’s grinning as he pulls off the mask, clearly proud of his successful prank.

insists on having a stash of halloween candy just for herself. she’s all about chocolate, especially reese’s and kit kats, and jokingly guards her stash from the others, even hiding a few extras in her bag.

hannah and beth washington.

hannah and beth take turns posing in different eerie setups around the cabin, snapping dramatic photos of each other in candlelight, near fog machines, and with props like antique lanterns. they especially love capturing a few shots that look like something out of an old haunted portrait.

both love the idea of exploring the mountain at night, so they plan a late-night “ghost hunt” under the full moon. they bring flashlights and spooky stories to tell along the way, daring each other to walk just a little bit farther into the woods.

beth and hannah sneak into the room with a giant rubber spider and place it right on josh’s chest. when he stirs and opens his eyes to find it staring back at him, he lets out a yell that has the girls stifling laughter from behind the door.

they have a slight obsession with candy corn and will spend halloween night indulging in it, trading their favorite types of candy and making candy corn-themed treats, like popcorn balls or cupcakes.

[vienssunshine]

What do you really want, you psychopath?

pairing: Josh Washington x fem reader nsfw word count: 6.7k content warning: blood, violence, needles, manipulation, non-con elements (nonconsensual filming, deception) author's note: My obsession with Until Dawn returns every summer like clockwork.

You hope he's doing okay.

It's the only thought sticking in your mind as you pace on the cable car platform. After everything last year, after him shutting down, not able to talk to anyone, you hope that now, a year later, things are at least better than they were. He has mentioned a therapist, so it's a little comforting knowing he's getting the professional help he needs.

You lean your hands against the wooden railing and admire the snowy landscape, trying to push Josh out of your mind. Instead, you shift your focus to Sam, because where the hell is she? Sam insisted on you both being the first ones up the mountain, but it's fifteen minutes past the time you agreed to meet and she has yet to arrive.

Your phone buzzes with a message from your friend:

"Hey! So sorry but traffic is terrible and I'm gonna be a bit. I don't want to keep you waiting out in the cold so take the cable car up and I'll see you up there!"

Turning your phone off, you sigh. Things are going to be awkward this year. Walking in with Sam would have eased your nerves about seeing everyone again, but it looks like you aren't being afforded that comfort anymore. Worse comes to worst, you can spend the evening holed up in your guest room with your favorite book.

You step into the cable car and try to ignore how the whole thing creaks and sways with the wind. The Washingtons are rich, so they must have the money to get this thing safety checked. Right?

The music you play in your earbuds somewhat drowns out the loud groans of the car as it travels up the snowy peak. Through the frosty window, you can see what looks like a blizzard rolling in. Good thing you'll be able to hunker down in Josh's cabin.

At the top of the mountain, the doors open and you see him, Josh Washington, standing alone in the snow. After all this time, the sight takes you aback; he seems to be an apparition, not fully there.

"Look what the cat dragged in," he says, hands in the pockets of his winter jacket, "Well, I guess it was the cable car, not a cat." His lazy grin is unshakable as he speaks.

"Hi Josh," you respond, fighting the smile creeping up on your face.

"Here, let me grab that for you," he says, stepping forward and helping you out of the straps of your North Face backpack. He swings it over his shoulder and beckons you up the path.

You thank him, bashful, and follow. The trail is white with snow and dimly lit, a few lanterns hanging from the fences, their wood corroded from the harsh winters before.

"So, is anyone else here yet?" you ask, pulling your gloves on. The wind feels stronger here than it did at the bottom of the mountain, it's icy and cutting into the skin of your fingers.

"Nah, the other party people aren't due for another hour or two." He leans in with an evil grin, "So it'll be just us for a while, scared?"

You giggle, pushing the man away from you, "I don't know if I'll survive all of your ultra-corny jokes, Josh."

"Yeah? Then, any requests for what they should put on your tombstone?" he asks, giving you a lighthearted push back.

"Shut up." You shake your head, smiling, before stealing a glance at your watch: 8:03 p.m. "Actually, I guess I won't have to survive for long since I'm on time. So everyone should be due soon."

"Aww, come on," Josh says, "You know they're all gonna be late."

You punch Josh in the arm and he fakes serious injury, "Don't talk about our friends like that, I trust in their punctuality. Sam, our good, timely friend even took the initiative to get us to come early."

Josh looks around in an exaggerated manner, squinting into the dark forest, "Do you see Sammy here? Or anyone else? 'Cause I don't. Face it, they're all gonna be late. Sam at least had the decency to give me a heads-up about it."

"Yeah, the traffic's terrible apparently."

"Damn, I guess she's gonna be even later then."

You furrow your brow, "What do you mean?"

"Sam told me to expect her around 9. So, if there's traffic, it might not be until like 9:30 or 10. Right?"

"Wait, when did she tell you to expect her at 9?"

"Uh...a few days ago, maybe?" Josh glances at you sideways, "Something up?"

Confused at the discrepancy between Sam and Josh's stories, you wrack your brain. Why did Sam want you to go early with her but tell Josh she was going to show up late?

You clench your fist, Sam wanted you and Josh alone. She's known you've had a crush on him for so long and has been relentless in encouraging you to go for it. This must be her fucked up way of forcing you to.

Josh studies you, still puzzled. Staring ahead, you notice the silhouette of the lodge at the end of the path. You weigh your options: should you be honest about what you think Sam is up to or just let it go?

You elect to give Sam a stern talking-to later, reassuring Josh by saying, "Ah it's nothing." You point to the cabin, "Hey, we're almost there!"

He follows your finger and gazes at the lodge ahead, "You're right, soon we can party all night long," he says with a mischievous smirk.

You lumber up the old stairs and find that the door to the lodge is unable to be opened.

"Ah, shit. The lock's frozen," Josh observes.

"Is there another way we can get in? Or get the door unfrozen? I'm not gonna lie, I am freezing my buns off out here."

Yeah, you'd like to spend more time with Josh, but not in nearly subzero temperatures.

"Now, now, you know Josh wouldn't keep a pretty girl outside freezing her buns off for long. Wait here, I have an idea."

Josh hurries off behind the lodge, leaving you on the porch, arms wrapped around your body in a fruitless attempt to warm yourself. You look around at the dark woods surrounding the cabin. It's a dense forest, filled with gnarly trees that look like they're twisting into one another in a warped dance.

A small trace of movement pulls your attention, something shifting its position in the tree line. Anxiety begins to pour into your stomach and you look around for Josh who is nowhere to be seen. Is something—or someone—out there? You step forward, placing your hands on the railing and leaning over to get a better look when the door behind you flies open.

"Honey, you're home!" Josh cries out.

"Josh!" you respond in a harsh whisper, "Keep it down!"

Josh laughs, placing his hand on the small of your back and guiding you into the house, "For who? No one is out here besides me," he points to himself, "and you," he presses his finger to your chest, right beneath your zipper.

His small touch flusters you, bringing a welcomed warmth to your cheeks. It makes you forget about whatever you saw in the woods. Must have been a bird.

He leads you into the living room and motions with a bow for you to sit on the couch. "Now, if the lovely lady would allow me, I'd adore starting a fire to warm her freezing buns."

Assuming a janky upper-class accent, you respond, "Why, of course, fine gentleman. I suppose that will suffice to toast said freezing buns."

You both laugh, and it makes you forget how cold you are. It's nice to kid around like old times. Like times before Hannah and Beth ran off into the woods and were never seen again. Things were easier then, it was easier to make jokes, easier to laugh.

You sink further into the couch as Josh piles wood into the fireplace.

"Josh?"

"Yeah?" He throws one last log in and pulls out a matchbook from his jeans.

"I'm happy to see you again. It's been a while."

"Too long," he agrees, striking and lighting the match.

You shift in your seat on the couch. "I guess I wanted to ask, are you okay?"

He freezes, and the match dies in his hand.

Shit, you went too far. What were you thinking, asking him how he is doing on the anniversary of the death of his little sisters? You begin to ramble, "Josh, I'm sorry, you don't have to answer that if you don't-"

"It's fine," he interrupts, "I'm fine."

You lean forward on the couch, "It's okay if you're not. Honestly, I wouldn't be."

He strikes the match again and lights the kindling as he talks. "I know that having our friends up here is going to help. It really means a lot to me that everyone is coming back to spend this weekend together."

The flickering flame nestled in the piled-on logs is growing in size, blossoming into a healthy, cozy fire. You can feel its warmth on your cheeks already.

Josh ambles over to the couch, sitting next to you—sitting very closely next to you. You almost scooch away, but decide to stay still.

Josh turns his body towards yours. "It means a lot to me that you came."

It's hard to keep your composure; his words feel too intimate and, god, his arm is resting on the couch behind you, one movement away from wrapping around your shoulders and pulling you close.

"Thanks, Josh," you force out, looking down at your hands. Your fingers are anxiously knotted together, a clear sign that your body is short-circuiting at his proximity.

He follows your gaze, watching you fidget in your lap. He then moves in, resting a hand on yours to quiet your restless fingers and placing the other beneath your jaw, using his knuckle to gently move your chin up so you face him.

You're freaking out. This is crazy. Why is he touching you like this?

"I-uh...well..." you stammer.

"Do you like me?" he whispers.

You freeze up; what do you even say to that? There's no way you can tell him you've had an embarrassingly unmanageable crush on him since the day you met. It could blow up the entire friendship. But, it's possible that he feels the same way you do, isn't it? His face is mere inches from yours!

Unless he doesn't feel the same way. After countless cruel and mean-spirited pranks, this friend group has sown distrust into every fiber of your body. You want to trust Josh with your true feelings, but can you?

Your mouth gapes, unable to articulate the paralyzing swirl of desire and fear coursing through you.

So you stay silent, and he retreats from your personal space, leaning back against the couch cushion, "Don't worry about answering now, I have a feeling everyone will know each other a lot better after tonight."

Your brow furrows at the crypticness of his statement, but before you can think about it too much, Josh's phone vibrates, and he gives you a knowing smirk, "Speak of the devil."

He gets off the couch and answers the phone while you try to keep your brain from spinning out of control. He was so close to you, which was really scary, but at the same time, it felt really good.

Josh teases the recipient on the other line about Ashley, so you take a guess that he's speaking to Chris.

He ends the phone call and turns to you, "Gotta go pick up the kids at the end of the trail, wanna come with?"

You press your lips together, "Um, I think I'll hang back. Y'know, unpack and stuff."

"Suit yourself," he shrugs, grabbing a flashlight and exiting the cabin.

Still in a daze, you head down the dark hallway and find your guest room. You unpack your clothes into the wooden dresser and throw your diary onto the patchwork quilt atop your bed. The bedroom is a familiar space to you, but it doesn't bring the comfort familiarity typically does.

You take some time to journal out your feelings, trying to work out the complex emotions that come with being back at this lodge after last year. Then, you take some time to write about Josh. How he had possibly come on to you tonight. How you wanted it to go further.

Voices begin to fill up the halls, so you leave your bedroom and journal to join everyone out in the living room. The fire is now roaring and Sam has arrived, so you go to greet her.

You expected everyone to be making an effort to get along considering the reason you're all up here, but since Josh has to separate Jess and Emily by sending Jess and Mike to the guest cabin, it's clear that no one is putting in the work.

The rest of the group swiftly and awkwardly disperse, each couple running off to deal with something whether it be finding a lost bag or a Ouija board. Whether they're making excuses so they don't have to stick around, you don't know, but it hurts to realize that your friend group will probably never recover from last year.

For a moment, Josh looks defeated, but he quickly plasters on his usual devil-may-care smirk.

Sam heads upstairs for a bath, but not before you pull her aside and whisper-shout about her audacious set-up. She laughs it off, and you both agree she can make it up to you with a card game in your room after she washes off.

Still feeling weird about Josh and the exchange earlier, you elect to read in your room instead of hanging out with him. Only, when you go back to the guest room to grab your book, you can't find it in your bag. What you don't notice is how your journal has also disappeared from its place on top of your bed.

"Hey, Josh?" You walk back into the living room to see Josh as well as Chris and Ashley sitting in front of a Ouija board, "Oh hi, Chris, Ashley. Have any of you seen my book?"

"There's a bunch of books around here," Chris shares unhelpfully.

Josh turns toward you, "What does it look like?"

You position your hands to give them a visual aid, "About this big? Green? Signed by the author on the inside?"

Your friends stare at you, blank, and you let your hands fall to your sides.

"Are you sure you packed it?" Ashley asks.

"Yes, I'm sure, and it's special so I really need to find it."

"Maybe it fell out when we were walking up?" Josh suggests.

"Ugh. You're probably right. I'm gonna go check," you say, zipping up your coat.

"I'll go with you," Josh offers, about to stand up before you say, "No, it's...it's fine."

"Are you sure you don't want some alone time with Josh?" Chris teases. Ashley laughs a little too hard.

With a grin, Josh adds on, "What if there are some baddies out there?"

You offer a weak smile, "I'll be fine. Like you said, there's no one else up here but us this weekend. Besides, Emily and Matt are down there getting a bag or whatever."

"Okay," Josh says, throwing his hands up in defeat.

You take a flashlight and head down the trail, squinting as the snow comes down heavier and heavier. After following your friends' footsteps all the way down the path, you spot your book on the bank of a narrow creek a little ways off the trail. You're not sure how it got there but are just happy to have it again.

Brushing off the light dusting of snow atop the book's cover, you're pleased to realize that the weather hasn't damaged the book at all. You're less pleased when you hear an arguing couple headed your way. You silently curse; you had hoped to make your journey as short as possible to avoid this dysfunctional pair.

They turn the corner and Matt sees you, calling out your name with a wave. Emily stares ahead with her arms crossed.

"Hey, guys!" you respond.

They walk up to join you, but your presence doesn't make an impact as they continue bickering all the way back up to the lodge. You succeed in tuning them out until Chris and Ashley appear out of the snowfall.

Your mouth falls open as you take the scene in: Ashley is curled into Chris's chest and her clothes are soaked with blood.

You hurry over to them, "Are you guys okay? What happened?"

Emily gasps, "Ashley, whose blood is that?"

Ashley lets out a strangled sob, clinging onto Chris.

"Chris, what happened?" Matt asks.

"J-Josh," Chris chokes out.

You take a step forward, "Josh what, Chris?"

"He's gone. It's all my fault. There's...there's a psycho on the mountain."

His words are like cold hands that squeeze your heart. There's no way.

"What did you say?" Emily cries, "There's like a serial killer up here?"

Ashley begins sobbing uncontrollably, "Yes! There's a killer and he's gonna kill us all if we don't get out of here!"

"It's okay, it's all gonna be okay," Matt says, and he turns to Emily, "We need to get help."

"But Sam," you interrupt, "Sam's still at the lodge!"

"You're right," Chris says, "We need to get everyone back together first."

"But we also need help!" Emily says, "If there's some psycho up here, I'm not just gonna go back and run into his arms!"

"Here," you say, "You and Matt go get help while Chris, Ashley, and I go back to the lodge to get Sam and everyone else."

"Fine!" Emily responds, "But we need to go, now!"

You split off into your separate directions. Ashley and Chris decide to check the upstairs bathroom while you hurry to check the guest rooms.

You fly down the hallway, opening and searching all the rooms lining the corridor. When you get to your room, you close your eyes and crack open the door, praying that when you open your eyes, your friend will be there, cards in hand, ready to play your make-up game.

"Sam?" you cry out. Nothing.

You check the closet and under the bed, thinking she could be hiding but still come up empty.

You're about to turn around to go check the rest of the rooms when a large hand clamps around your mouth, slamming your back into a hard chest so another arm can ambush you, wrapping around your waist and holding you still.

"Looking for your friend?" a distorted voice asks. Your eyes widen. Shit. This must be the psycho Ashley and Chris were talking about.

You begin to thrash against the body behind you, desperate to do anything to avoid whatever fate Josh had suffered. Your fight does nothing but make the arms around you constrict, the strength of the maniac locking you in place, pressed against their body.

"I wouldn't be difficult, if I were you," the voice states, and you're frightened into compliance when the maniac presses a syringe of mystery liquid up to your neck. You whimper against his glove.

"Now, now, there's no need to be scared," he tucks the syringe away and begins stroking your hair, "As long as you behave, you'll be in good hands."

Tears well up in your eyes and you suppress the urge to fight back again.

He seems lost in thought for a moment as he uses his gloved fingers to play with your hair, but shortly regains his focus, "If you promise to keep quiet, I won't have to use that syringe I showed you earlier," he chuckles, the sound metallic with the voice changer, before adding, "Not that anyone would hear you or be able to help."

You gasp, are Chris and Ashley okay? Is Sam?

He looks down at you, and you can see a part of the mask he's wearing in your peripheral vision. "Can you do that for me? Be nice and quiet like a good little kitten?" As he speaks, he slowly pulls down the zipper of your coat, exposing your tight v-neck shirt.

You press your eyes shut and give a curt nod. It's best to just go along with what he says, you want to try to make it out of this alive.

The man releases the hand over your mouth, and you make an effort to keep from breaking down in tears. The psycho takes a step back and away as you manually even your breathing.

"Sit on the bed and face me," he says.

You take a few uncertain steps forward, as though you were walking on a lurching boat, and sit on the patchwork quilt, cramming yourself close to the wall behind you and pulling your knees up to your chest. You raise your chin to face your attacker and cold fear washes over you.

He's tall, built, and looks like something right out of a slasher film. He's wearing oversized overalls dirtied with dried mud and a creepy skull-like mask that covers his entire head and neck. The syringe he threatened you with pokes out of his pocket, a reminder of the consequences if you don't comply. Down by his side, his gloved hand grips a journal—your journal.

He opens your diary and begins to carelessly flip through it, "Hmmm...maybe I should tell you a bedtime story to calm you down. There's a lot of great material in here."

Your fists ball up, scrunching the fabric of the quilt beneath them. "What do you want?" you grit out. Those entries are personal, and you'd have no idea why this intruder would be interested in reading them.

Ignoring you, the psycho flips to the page you had left your bookmark in. "Look at that, a recent entry," he darkly chuckles at his discovery, "I wonder what it says."

Your lips tighten, of all entries, why did it have to be that one?

"It's nothing, just random fucking friend group shit," you say.

The psycho looks up, gazing at you for once instead of the pages in his hands. "Then you wouldn't mind me reading it, would you?"

You open your mouth, helpless, "Um, no...you don't need to-"

The maniac lumbers towards you, just a few steps away, before he begins to recite your words.

"Fuck, Josh is so hot. It's literally torture. I want to take him into one of these guest rooms and just have my way with him. I'd let him do anything he wanted too, like let him just use my body for his pleasure. Ugh, I'm getting all hot just thinking about it. It's killing me that we were literally alone, and I think he was making a move on me, but I just didn't do anything about it. But I don't know, I don't want to push it after his sisters..." the psycho trails off.

Your face burns, feeling more embarrassed than scared now, even with a potential murderer standing before you. Your words sound so much more extreme and mortifying after being read aloud. Is that what he's trying to do, humiliate you?

The psycho closes the journal, steps forward, and tosses it onto the dresser. He's close now, boots planted on the red carpet in front of the bed, just a few paces away. He's watching you, his gaze suffocating, so you avert your own, instead focusing on the area above his left shoulder.

A glint in the corner of the room, right where the ceiling meets the two adjacent walls, catches your eye.

"Nothing to say about that entry, sweetheart?" the psycho asks, standing there with his gloved hands by his side as if he has all the time in the world.

This is getting suspicious; why is he asking you about your crush instead of, I don't know, killing you? It seems like such a trivial topic for a killer to be focused on...if he actually is one. Were Chris and Ashley wrong?

You peer at the shady corner of the room and are able to make out a circular object: a black and shiny lens. Above it is a dim but steadily blinking red light. You're being filmed. With that realization, you put it together.

They're pranking you.

It started with Sam tricking you into being alone with Josh, and then Chris teasing you about him, and then Ashley and Chris putting on a hell of a show trying to convince you some psycho is running around. Now, they're trying to terrify you into confessing your feelings. It's all some stupid, immature prank where you are the butt of the joke.

A deep frown forms on your face and you unfurl your body from its curled up position on the bed. Fury begins to pulse through your body.

"Now that I think about it, I actually have plenty to say about that entry." You stand up, taking a bold stride toward the "psycho". His hand raises to the pocket the syringe sticks out of, but you continue unfazed.

"First, let me start off with the fact that I will not let you guys scare and embarrass me for your own entertainment, alright?" You're almost yelling now, and the man watches as you continue your tirade.

You stare down the camera, gesticulating wildly, "I have feelings for Josh, okay? I want to fuck Josh. Hard." You throw your hands in the air, "And you can play all these stupid little tricks you want on me but I'm not going to let you guys make me feel bad about it. I don't give a fuck about what any of you think of me."

You sigh, exasperated, and face the speechless man standing in front of you. "There you go, hope you guys got the laugh you wanted."

He observes you as you shift your weight, the creepy eyes of the mask staring uncomfortably deep into you. You fold your arms, "So you can take the mask off now, okay? The prank's over, Chris."

"It's not Chris."

You press your lips together, "Okay, then who is it, Mike?"

The psycho speaks again, but this time, the voice-changer has been turned off.

"I think you know who it is."

Your eyes widen. There's no way you just confessed to-

The psycho's gloved hands rise to his head, and his fingers hook behind his mask and bring it down, revealing Josh's smirking face.

You take a wobbly step back, your anger disintegrating and leaving you without the confidence to speak as casually as you just were.

He chuckles, amused by your surprise and confusion. "This isn't how I imagined this going, but I'm not complaining about it." He places his mask next to your journal that's on top of the dresser.

A million thoughts and feelings begin swirling around your head and body at a vertigo-inducing pace, but they are all quieted when Josh steps forward and takes your hands in his gloves.

"Josh, what...what's going on?" you ask meekly, "Where is everyone?" It feels so contradictory, but knowing it's him near you, with his hands in yours, makes you feel so safe.

"I set up a few games for them," Josh says, "They should be entertained for a bit. But yeah, it's all one big prank. Gotcha!"

It feels like he's holding back a full reply. You look up at him, searching his green eyes for a complete answer, only to be met with a warm rush to your stomach at the fact that his gaze is soft, loving, and entirely focused on you. It's easier to fall into his warm embrace than insist on knowing more about the stupid prank, so you choose to just let it go.

Josh looks down and away, “Y’know, I’ve always been into you. I’m not good with this kind of thing but…I’ve always wanted to ask you out. I never got the courage to tell you that until now.”

Your heart flutters. “I was scared to tell you too, I just didn’t know how you’d react given…everything.”

He nods, “It feels like sometimes it takes a life-or-death situation to get people to confess their true feelings. Like Chris and Ashley, it’d take a gun to their head to get either of them to spill their guts.” 

“You’re probably right,” you giggle. 

Josh leans closer to you, hands moving from yours so they can rest on the curve of your waist. His thumbs slowly stroke your sides, provoking the urge to move his hands underneath your shirt to feel the sensation unobstructed. 

“So,” he starts, his voice quieter, dripping with something darker, “Was everything you wrote in your diary true?” 

You bring your arms up so they’re around his neck, pressing your body into his. Your soft chest melds into his hard sternum and heat radiates through his overalls to warm your skin. 

You tilt your head so your lips are centimeters from his, “You mean how I wrote pages upon pages of how bad I wanted to fuck you?” 

His hands tighten, squeezing your waist, and with his chest so close to yours, you can feel his heartbeat speed up at your words. 

“Fuck,” he says, “I guess I didn’t know you wanted it as much as I have.” 

You lean forward, closing the gap between your lips and kiss him, hard. You melt into each other, bodies fitting together like puzzle pieces, devoid of any negative space. One of his hands comes up to your jaw and the other travels to the small of your back, pushing you further into him. 

Threading your fingers into his hair, you deepen the kiss, parting your lips and allowing your tongues to push into each other's mouths. He’s a little hesitant at first, but any self-consciousness vanishes when you begin to moan breathily into your open-mouthed kisses. Thoroughly encouraged by your noises of delight, he indulges in his desire, indulges in you.

His kisses are becoming messy and desperate as he works to keep receiving your pretty little noises. He runs his hands all over your body, feeling every dip and curve, wanting to touch all of you at the same time. Each brush of his hands sends tingles up your spine and you move with him, desiring nothing more but to keep your body underneath the palms of his hands.

You allow your hands to explore too, taking them downward, past the buttons of his shirt, the large pocket of his overalls, and his belt until they reach the hardness in his pants. You rest delicate fingers on it, tracing the outline and Josh breaks from your kiss to groan. 

You let out a shaky breath, “Shit, Josh. I want this. I want you.” 

He leans down and grabs the backs of your thighs, hoisting you up and against him. Now suspended, you tighten your arms around his neck, holding onto him. Josh lays you down on the quilt and you spread your body out, relaxing into the soft fabric and the euphoric buzz your body swims in. He crawls on top of you, pressing a kiss to your jaw, then your neck, and finally, to your collarbone all while you giggle and pull him close.

He hovers over you, “You know where I want to take you right?”

You laugh and point your finger into his chest, “Don’t you dare say that perverted phrase.” 

He smiles, bringing his hand up to his mouth to lock his lips and throw away the key. 

He begins to kiss your neck once more, and you squirm underneath him, overwhelmed by the sensation his warm and wet lips shock through your body. His shirt’s sleeves are rolled up, so you wrap your hands around his thick forearms to stabilize yourself. 

Josh moves the neckline of your t-shirt, kissing further down on the increasingly exposed skin. Each kiss sends heat blooming deep in your stomach, making it even harder to keep still with the waves of pleasure overtaking you. His fingers tug on the hem of your t-shirt, a silent ask for removal. You’re about to comply when the shine of the camera in the corner catches your eye once more, the lens trained directly on the bed. 

“Josh, the camera?” you ask. 

“Not on,” he mumbles, entranced by the sight and feeling of your chest. 

It’s enough reassurance for you to pull your coat and shirt off, uncovering your bra and torso. Your exposure gives you a sudden wave of self-doubt about the prank pulled on you and everyone's role in it. You still have questions since some things aren’t fitting together, but, shamefully, it’s hard to think critically when Josh’s lips feel so good against you. 

“Fuck, y’know you’re so pretty?” Josh whispers into your torso, lavishing your chest with kisses and licks as he worships your body, “All of our winter trips…s’been so hard to focus with you here. Just wanted to touch you.”

Your fingernails begin to dig into his forearms. “It was so hard for me too, Josh, I’ve had a crush on you for like ever.” He kisses just above your jeans and you let out a gasp. Your hand comes up to your mouth in an attempt to muffle your noises, but Josh pins your wrist to the bedspread. 

“Please,” he says, “I want…to hear you,” he presses another kiss to your pelvis, “I’ve been wanting to do this for so long.” 

“Okay,” you answer, breath hitching as he unbuttons your pants. He pulls your jeans off and throws them onto the rug. “Mmm, no fair,” you whine, using your free hand to knock one of his overall straps off his shoulder. He smiles, complying with your wishes by taking his overalls off, leaving him in his button-up and dark jeans. 

“Is this satisfactory for the princess?” he asks, waiting for you to evaluate his outfit. 

You tilt your head and grin, “Hmmm…satisfactory for now.” 

“Then, may I continue pleasuring my fair maiden?”

“You may,” you giggle. 

He kneels between your thighs and strokes his fingers along the curves of your legs, marveling at your beauty. 

“You have such a tight bod,” he says, breathless. He places a big hand on your lower stomach, “And so soft, too.”

A shy smile spreads across your face; the words from your crush make you feel tingly and giddy. “It makes me happy that you like my body,” you respond. 

“I love it,” he says, bending your knees and pressing a kiss to your inner thigh, amused by how you instinctively jerk at the sensation. “You like when I kiss you there?” he asks, already knowing the answer. 

Your breathing becomes uneven as he kisses further down your inner thigh, closing in on your underwear and the darkened patch where your wetness has soaked through the fabric. Josh’s rough hands slip down your thighs, holding them open and still despite the way you squirm when his lips feel a little too good. 

He pauses for a quick moment to pull off his shirt, leaving him in his dark henley top that hugs his lean build perfectly. 

“I want more off of you,” you demand, and Josh grins, stating that “Somebody’s eager.” 

His henley top comes off and shirtless Josh is between your legs once more, kissing just a few inches shy of your underwear. His hands roam as he does, gratefully squeezing the flesh of your thighs. 

He moans your name as he licks a stripe across the inside of your leg, sending the thoughts straight out of your brain. All you know is that he sounds so fucking hot when he moans your name. 

“C-can I take these off now?” he asks, placing a hand on your underwear, a twinge of desperation underlying his voice.

“Yes, please, Josh,” you gasp, thumbs already tucking into your waistband to get the burdensome fabric off as quickly as possible. 

He groans as your glistening folds are exposed, looking like he’s about to come just from the sight of you. Within seconds he’s nestled between your legs again, kissing your thighs until he gets to your soaked entrance. His hot breath fans against you, sending butterflies of anticipation up your sides. 

“I’ve been thinking about doing this for so long,” he admits before licking up your cunt with a flattened tongue, sending one of your hands down to get knotted into his hair and the other gripping onto the bedsheets for dear life. 

He continues to lick his tongue through your folds, and you begin to writhe underneath his touch, “Fuck, Josh, it…it feels really good.” 

He groans against you, the vibration sending another wave of pleasure through your body. Your hips kick up against your will, but Josh pushes your pelvis back down into the mattress, palm firmly placed on your lower stomach, fingers spread. 

“Can’t have you wiggling around, now can we?” he says before diving into your pussy one more. He bathes your clit with attention, holding your hips down and keeping you still every time a flick of his tongue is too powerful for you to handle. 

Your fingers dig deep into Josh’s hair, pulling it gently, which he seems to enjoy with the way he groans into you. His hips buck a little into the mattress whenever you pull tighter, so desperate to get off to you.

He watches you as he pleasures you, devouring every little reaction with his dark and hungry green eyes. When you look down, you can see that one of his hands has slipped underneath his jeans, allowing him to palm himself to your delightful reactions. 

He begins to suck on your clit, kissing and taking it into his mouth rhythmically in a way that might just drive you out of your right mind. His mouth is warm and wet against you and each shockwave of pleasure it gifts breaks you down into smaller and smaller pieces. 

Honestly, it’s frightening how the bliss consumes you in totality: thoughts, body, everything. It’s better than any smutty fantasy you scribbled down in your journal. Your imagination could have never conjured up what it feels like to have Josh go down on you.

“You’re s’hot,” he says in between licks, “And taste so good, fuck.” 

You moan, and he becomes sloppier with his movements, too overcome by desire to think straight. You buck your hips against him and he lets you, allowing his hand to just sit on your pelvis instead of push it down.

Tingles of electricity shoot up your sides as you ride Josh’s tongue. He accommodates his mouth to every jerky thrust of your hips, fully giving in to your carnal pleasure. He watches you, eyes half-lidded, touching himself, and completely under the spell of your gyrating body. 

“Ah—fuck, Josh I’m so close.”

“Please,” he mumbles, his tongue and mouth inseparable from your wet cunt, “I want you to, I want you to come so bad.”

A strangled moan rips through your throat as an orgasm comes crashing down on you. You throw your head back against the quilt, eyes crinkled shut and mouth agape. The pleasure hits you in unforgiving waves, slamming into your poor body until it's through with you.

Josh strokes your quaking thighs, soothing the intensity of your climax and helping you through it. 

“Fuck—that’s it, there you go” Josh coos.

Your whole body falls limp, and you lie supine on the bed, the aftershocks of your orgasm still buzzing through you. Your canal throbs, squeezing around but the copious amount of slick dripping out of your pussy.

Josh clambers up to your face, kissing your cheek and forehead as you try to slow your panting. 

“Josh,” you slur, still trying to return to Earth. 

“Mmm?” he answers, placing a gentle kiss to your temple. 

“That was really good,” you manage to express. 

He smiles against your skin, lies down next to you, and wraps his arms around your body, holding you to him with a comforting firmness. Your hands rest on the bicep settled over your chest, and you snuggle into Josh’s embrace. He’s so warm, and smells so good. He’s exactly what you need after such a violent orgasm.

Your energy depleted, you slip off, so comfortable and safe in Josh’s arms. 

Josh waits until you're fully asleep before checking his watch. Based on the time, Ashley and Chris should be waking up soon from the sleeping gas he had poisoned them with.

Careful not to wake you, Josh slips out of the bed, dresses himself, and picks up the mask on the dresser.

"Sleep well, honey," he says with a smile before shutting the door behind him.

[auspicioustidings]

Ae Fond Kiss - Part 7

My Heart's in the Highlands

Summary: You speak with your kid and establish a new normal. A conversation is had with Johnny. Words: 2.6k TWs: mention of miscarriage

Parts: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7

The drive home was silent. Your mind was a mess but you tried to slow down your racing thoughts and put your parent head on. It was so hard right now to be a parent when you felt like an out of control child. You tried to run through a script in your mind, a way to explain what was going on to Joey without bringing your own bitterness into it. 

The kid in question seemed no more willing to have the conversation than you were. He was staring out the window. He seemed exhausted. You could understand that, the emotional gauntlet he had been going through with his parents not even there to help… God you felt awful. 

“...let’s get the mega-ultra sundae” you decided, indicating to turn off towards the ice-cream parlour.

“That’s for like 20 people. Luna from school said her brothers tried to eat it all and they threw up.”

“How many brothers does she have again?”

“Four. One of them does football at uni, two are on the high school team and the last one just won a boxing competition.”

“Well I guess we’re about to embarrass Luna’s brothers.”

You glanced over to him and he looked to you, both with tentative smiles. This was still your kid, you were still his mother, and you were going to eat enough ice-cream that you’d both spend the evening curled up on the sofa feeling sick and watching bad movies. You didn’t know how you ever got so lucky. You could strangle both of his dads, but you could never not appreciate the hand they had in this brilliant boy. 

While you immediately knew the mega-ultra sundae was a mistake when the server struggled to put it on the table due to the weight, you both grinned anyway. The first few spoonfuls you just took the time to think about what to say. 

“Did you really think he was dead?” Joe asked, carefully digging for marshmallows.

“We both did, me and your dad. I think… I think uncle John might have known he wasn’t and I’m very angry with him over it” you answered, aiming for complete honesty. 

“Was the stuff you said about him true?”

You thought on that while you took a mouthful of what you had thought was mostly ice cream but was almost 100% whipped cream. You had told Joe all about Johnny even if you lied about just what he was to him. You had told him how brave he was, how loving. How when he got really excited you and Simon could barely understand half the words that came out of his mouth. You’d told him about his temper, how he would explode and then after need to nap it off before profusely apologising. And God was he clever even if he seemed like a big dumb idiot sometimes. He could make an explosive out of anything and on New Years he usually did. 

“Yeah. We never lied about the kind of man he was, just… it felt scary to tell you he was your father. We should have told you. We shouldn’t have hidden it because we were scared about what you might think.”

“What would I think?”

You could still hear Johnny yelling in your head. You were afraid Joe would think what he did, that you loving Simon even when you thought he was dead was a betrayal. Although now you knew that you had been betrayed it felt like such a stupid fear.

“I didn’t want you to think of your dad differently because he wasn’t your birth father. And I… for some people me falling in love with Johnny’s best friend after he died was wrong. I just didn’t want you to think that.”

Joey thought on that for a while as he kept working on the sundae which didn’t seem like it had decreased in volume at all. You hated putting all of this on a 9 year old. He should be telling you all about the football game and explaining again how he could build a computer in Minecraft, not considering how he felt about finding out a war hero whose death was faked by the military was his father. God you hoped Kyle hadn’t known.

“I think it’s ok” he said eventually as he chewed through a chunk of meringue. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s pretty cool that I have another dad. Does he always sound like that? Did he really take on a whole town of bad guys and win with dad?”

You shoved another spoonful in your mouth even though you were feeling a little nauseous because if you didn’t try and distract yourself with something you’d cry. He was supposed to yell at you, he was supposed to be mad and turn off his hearing aids so he couldn’t listen to your apologies. But that wasn’t the kid you and Simon had raised. Yeah he could get angry, but he was so good at cooling off and moving on and fixing the issue. 

So you told him all about Johnny but this time in present tense, you both gave the mega-ultra sundae your best shot and then you ran to the bathroom as soon as you got home to throw up which your kid did not let you live down as you watched a bunch of superhero movies. 

–

You didn’t think anyone but you three could pull it off, but somehow life went on. Simon and Johnny arranged a meeting with you and it was decided who would do what. School runs were completely off your plate, they’d share that between them and it seemed like a good way to have J be able to get to know his biological father in small, casual chunks. 

You did offer to let them stay in the guest room, but Simon could read you well enough to know that right now you really did not want to be around them and you were offering for the sake of keeping the peace, so he said no. He was staying in an airbnb nearby and Johnny to your surprise outright bought himself a flat the second week. Not really your business, but part of you felt your heart break that he had just accepted so quickly that you’d be separate for the rest of your lives. 

You never asked about what was going on with the two of them. Maybe it was cowardly, but you didn’t want to know. If they were together, then it would feel like you were always just the second choice and now they would be happy without you. If they weren’t, then it would feel like they were only holding back out of their love and respect for you which was no doubt making them miserable. Did you want them to be miserable? You didn’t know, the answer changed depending on the time of day.

You’d had a dream this morning of the two of them together, had woken up wet and needy and had let your hand wander between your legs to finish yourself off to the fantasy of it. Afterwards you promptly threw up and spent the rest of the day in bed feeling awful until J got back from football practice. Johnny had taken him and they were laughing together. He had taken one look at you and invited himself in, saying he’d order take away and get Joe to bed after dinner so you should just relax. You felt too ill and exhausted to really argue.

Joe was in bed and you were tidying away the leftovers when Johnny came back downstairs into the kitchen. It was the first time the two of you had been alone together. 

“Sorry, you used tae love cashews” he said.

“I still do. The place is usually really good as well, just really couldn’t stomach them today” you replied, frowning at the container as you put it away because it really had been sort of gross but Joey had tried some and said he’d eat the leftovers. 

“I can go grab something from the shops if ye want? Ye didnae eat an awful lot.”

You closed the fridge and raised an eyebrow at him. 

“..I’m naw Senga’ing!” he protested, knowing that raised eyebrow well.

“You’re Senga’ing a little.”

“Naw I’m not!”

“I dunno Johnny, if it worries like a Senga and fusses like a Senga…”

He threw a tea towel at you and you laughed. Senga was your old neighbour's very moody hen who treated the two of you like unruly chicks whenever you were out the back garden. It was sort of comforting to know the old Johnny from nearly a decade ago was still here, but bittersweet that he wasn’t yours anymore. 

“I…” you started, but trailed off because you didn’t know what you wanted to say.

You had spent weeks with the anger at finding out what had happened being difficult to predict. Sometimes you felt it so intensely, sometimes it faded away. It was all so long ago now. You were a different person. You all were. 

“I shouldnae have… well let’s be honest there’s a hunner things I shouldnae have done, but just going for recently I shouldnae ever have tried tae say it was wrong of ye to marry Simon. Especially naw when I knew myself that he…” he trailed off.

“That he’s easy to fall in love with” you finished for him, hearing almost a tone of commiseration in your voice. 

“Is easy the word?”

“Fair enough. I hated him at the start. Considered breaking things off with you more than once just so I didn’t have to be around him anymore.”

“I broke two of my fingers trying tae break his nose the first month on the task force.”

You gave a dramatic gasp and pointed accusingly at him. 

“And you never told me?! How did I not know this?”

“Cause it’s a pure riddy. Tried tae punch him with his mask on and he didnae feel a fucking thing. Didnae even try get me intae trouble for it either, just ordered me tae go to medical like a pure dick.”

You could imagine how mad that would have made Johnny and you could absolutely imagine how smug Simon would have been about the whole thing. One regret you had was the times you avoided going out with Johnny’s friends because you sort of wished now you had seen them together more. At the time you were young and so sure that Simon Riley was just a misogynistic tosser that you avoided him and you knew now you had probably missed out on so much. Maybe you’d have noticed how they felt about one another had you given him a chance. 

“I wanted to strangle him so much at the start. No clue how it turned into what it did. He didn’t even propose with a ring, just asked if I wanted to get married in the kitchen on a whim.”

Johnny looked horrified on your behalf.

“Absolute roaster! How in the fuck did both of us fall for such a wanker?”

The two of you took a beat to decide how you felt about this all being out in the open and then laughed together until you cried. God it was nice to just laugh about it. You’d never get over what the two of them did a decade ago, not really, but you didn’t want it to turn you bitter. You didn’t want to forget all the good things. And you wanted them both in Joseph’s life, you wanted him to get all of the love and support you knew these men were capable of. 

You wiped away a tear and sighed, leaning on the counter and looking at Johnny with a sort of sad smile. 

“I wish you had just told me how you felt about him. It’s not that you fell in love with him that hurt, it was that you didn’t trust me enough to tell me.”

Fuck, you guessed you knew how Joe felt now. Too scared to tell him the truth because you had imagined the worst of his reaction. 

“I was a shite husband. Naw even just what happened with Si, but all of it. Should never have taken that job without talking tae ye first. All well and good saying it was for your protection, but I should have trusted that ye wouldnae have told anyone, that ye’d have done your part if ye’d agreed tae it. Should never have taken that choice off of you.”

“Why the change of heart now?”

“Guess I’ve done some growing up. Over the last 9 years it’s naw been the soldiers that have been saving the world most of the time, it’s been the civilians. I used tae think I was some big hero just because I wore the uniform, but I was just being an arrogant prick. I hate that I treated ye like ye were less capable of making decisions because ye didnae have a set of fucking epaulettes. Never really deserved ye.”

“I’m sorry that you took it all on yourself. It must have been awful being alone all this time in enemy territory. Look, I’m pissed that you took the job, Price has been laying low because he knows I’m going to boot him in the balls next time I see him, but I know you did it to help people. And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry I never told you about… about that night with Simon.”

“I’m so so fucking sorry ye went through that bonnie, I cannae imagine” he said, and you knew he was sincere with the moisture gathering in his eyes. 

It was an old wound for you now, but this was new for him you realised. He hadn’t know until a few weeks ago that Joey may have had an older sibling. Remembering how painful it had been back then before time had healed you, you felt the sudden urge to hug him knowing there was a good chance this was still so raw for him. So you did.

He held you tight and buried his face in your hair like he used to. He smelled almost the same, although there was something a little less wild about him now. How long had it been since he had just been held? 9 years on mission, 9 years of the world on his shoulders. Fuck you almost wished Simon had known, then at least he would have had him to come back to without the complication of the lie between them. 

You stayed like that for a while, just clinging to one another in the kitchen. God you had missed him so damn much. You were just so angry that he had been alive all this time. So much time wasted. So many choices that could have changed things. If he had told you back then how he felt about Simon, what would you have done? If you had told him about the miscarriage, would it have changed things? But it was too late for any of that now. 

So when you broke apart and you took a breath to ask if he’d like to stay over, he beat you to it and said he’d best get going. Probably for the best.

“Why did you buy the place anyway? I thought you hated it down here, heart in the highlands and all that.”

“My heart’s in the highlands, but the highlands was never really about the place, it was about the person there in it with me. But the flat’s also close tae the uni Joe said he wants tae go to. I ken that he’s only little now so he might change his mind, but I wanted it tae be there for him just incase and it’s naw like I cannae buy another place for him if he goes somewhere else.”

You shoved him out of the door before you could go against your own best interests and kiss him.

[facts-i-just-made-up]

Could you give your best explanation for what exactly wetware is?

In science fiction, "wetware" is often the name for a brain-computer interface. In reality, wetware is a Don't-Create-The-Torment-Nexus sort of deal where despite many stories of the horrors possible from making such an invention without proper care, oversight and ethical concerns, certain ultra-rich people have rushed the development of wetware by abusing animal and human subjects with few actual benefits just so they can tell shareholders that they invented wetware.

Now, I know what you're thinking, isn't this a fake fact blog? Or is he gonna promote his own novels with their many cyberpunk elements? Or did he sneak in a clever reference to Neuromancer or Ghost in the Shell above that I missed? Or did he load that question into my mind through the wetware he deleted my memory of getting?

No, I'm just tired and my sides and back hurt and I'm typing almost randomly while watching Elden Ring lore videos and I just want this fucking kidney shit to be OVER because I can't think straight.

Sorry everyone I'm not braining well these days but hopefully soon I'll be back and not just typing to try to ignore the ugh.

[diejager]

Joyce, can we have headcanons regarding that sicko bastard known as Jeffrey Hawk aka The Clown? I ADORED that thing u said about him having a dad bod ❤️❤️

*Hands you an ordinary Ultra Ball as a gift*

Oddballer, you’re asking a lot from me, aren’t ya?? That man is just so big and filthy that I’m sure he smells.

The Clown NSFW Headcanon

Cw: DARKFIC, DUB-CON/NON-CON, drinking, blood, gore, amputation, clown stuff, manhandling, gas/hazing??, tell me if I missed any.

Once a young and athletic kid, building his body to fit a certain way to help him ease through all the hard labour he did, now it his under a warm layer of fat, thick and heavy, bulging over his belt and breast round and soft. He might’ve had some difficulty to run, ambling or striding across the fields with a slow and taunting skip to his step, menacing while he hit the cork of his bottles and shook his special concoction. It made him all the more terrifying, slow and comfortable in his walk, strategic and strangely familiar with every type of hunt, ears keenly aware of the screams and pants of survivors, hungry for the dopamine those pained sounds gave him —especially yours. 

His special bird, the first he’d every wanted to keep, locked away from the other killers and survivors alike, chained to his carney’s caravan by the ankle, bloody and filthy just to his liking. It brought back memories, favourable ones, his first successful hunt, catching a little robin in his hand, the soft and pretty red plumage picked and broken, but you weren’t something he wanted broken.

He liked the fire in your eyes, the fearful and spiteful glare you sent him when he cornered you in the chosen realm, snarling at him like a feral creature. While he hated doing unnecessary work, abhorred the thought of you losing the flare in your being, taming such a wild cat was rewarding by itself. If he could tame you enough to be able to hold and touch you without too much fight, but keep your temper, it was a win-win in his mind. There was nothing more he hated than a husk, a shell of a broken man to keep as a pet. 

He took brave and foolish alike, young or old, nothing was off the table for him, all he needed was the true part of them, a finger to remember his exploits and victory, throwing away the part he deemed trash —fake. He could smell it from their bodies and figured that the hands - fingers - were the truth, a part that showed the person’s life, deeming it a satisfactory boon for him conquest, but you, all parts of you sang a different story to good ol’ Jeffrey Hawk. A true treasure to keep intact. 

While he would love to keep you to himself, a little bird that would sing to him every day with snapping teeth and kicking feet, he wasn’t as favoured by her as other killers were, almost forgotten to his dirty little corner of the forest in his bloodied and smelly caravan, fingers littering every flat surface and beer bottles stacked or rolling across the floor. If he had such a favour, he would keep you in a comfortable corner, placed over a sullied mattress with blankets stacked over it, keeping you warm while he dressed you in his shirts, all browned and smelling of metallic blood and his musk. 

It was thick and heady, mixing with a scent of alcohol and iron, age-old sweat and dirt. You’d complained about his stink, gagging and choking on the many times he cornered you, pressing himself against you to feel and smell you under his grasp. Nose buried in your hair and arms pulling you to his front, your back arching by the neck against the solid mass of his stomach, soft and pudgy if it wasn’t for his rough clothes scratching your tender skin.

It brought tears to your eyes. Be it from the stench of him and his intoxicating tonics, or his wandering hands, slipping under your shirt until it rode up, removing a piece of protection from his hungry eyes, he loved watching you cry. Call it a recreational hazard from his job, tears and wails were just a part of his duty under The Entity’s guidance, but he simply adored your pretty tears, pearly things rolling down your cheeks and your cute sobs filling his lecherous ears.

You don’t know how much it affected him, the pout when you bit your lower lip in frustration while you struggled against him, the squirming that riled him when he had you in his arms, and your spitfire-like tongue, hurling every insults under the sun at him. It stirred something deep in his guts, a dark pleasure bubbling from his loins, fattening the growing hardness between his leg. He easily got worked up by you, the solitude of his lifestyle and the starvation for any kind of touch led his to drool and hunger for it. 

Your skin against his, soft and beautiful, bending easily under his kneading hands, his rough and bloodied glove as forced you on his lap, seated still to let him lap and suck at your small fingers. His tongue curling around your index, thick and lithe, and suckled in his warm and wet mouth while his tongue felt around, drool running down your wrist. He lost himself in these moments, aroused out of his mind and huffing hot breath against your disgusted face.

He liked your reaction —he liked any reaction you gifted him. He savoured each and every one, your gleeful ones, your sorrowful ones, your frustrated one, and your painful ones. He drank it all up like the drugs and alcohol he found pleasure in, gorging on you like an addict would. You were his new addiction, his new drug and dependence. And he hungered.

[livingdeadgirl3]

intro!!<333

Haiiii!!! I’m Delilah!!! Aka THE living dead girl!!

🎶 “Living Dead Girl.” 🎶

ABOUT MEEEEE •im a virgo!! august 28 baby!! •im a girl!(obviously.)im a fag! she/her/idgaf •im Andy Biersacks wife!!

•im a minor! music is life. im lowkey hella fucking annoying, cringe and stupid. im pretty fucking awkward and need to die. i spend most of my time on here bc i have no friends and i use tumblr to vent and yap so be prepared bc im ALWAYS here. im an asshole so um yea. i love my moots so much omfg. nghhhhh i love you guys so muchhhh nghhhhh!! please love me, meet my mother!!/The Cure reference…

•i post stuff about mental health, starving, body image, self harm, gore, depression, my abusive parents, sexual topics and other stuff like that. if you have a problem with that please just click off/unfollow/block there is no need to report!!<33 Love ya!!<33

•DNI: pedos, ppl scared of gay ppl, racists, creepy old men with porn blogs and such. I WILL NOT HESITATE TO BLOCK AND REPORT.🎀🎀🎀

^MY SONG GUYS!! REAL NOT FAKE!!^

•music i goon to: (the sounds of @iamthedisappearingboy whimpering and moaning) Hole, Zach Bryan, BVB, FIR, Billie Eilish, KoRn, Type O Positive, Some Metallicum, The Cure, Depeche Mode, She Wants Revenge, Blink-182, Three Days Grace, Murderdolls, Lana Del Rey, Putrid Pile, Bad Omens, Cattle Decapitation, BMTH, 2Pac, Acid Bath, Alexisonfire, Evanescence, Kraanium, NIN, Marilyn Manson, Amy Winehouse, Elvis, No Doubt, $uicideboy$, Bauhaus, Shitknot, older Green Day (i can bump some of their new stuff sometimes tho), Limp Dick (Bizkit), Bikini Kill, Beastie Boys, Fleetwood Mac, Black Sabbath, Rob Zombie, Cannibal Corpse, Clown Core, Genitorturers, Guttural Slug, Halsey, ICP, In This Moment, Jack Off Jill, Knocked Loose, KITTIE, Lil Peep, Misfits, MSI, MCR, Mitski, A Perfect Circle, Sleep Token, Spiritbox, Sublime, some Taylor Swift, TOOL, and Suicide Silence. i could go on loll! My Spotify<3

•movies/tv shows i like: The Office, Buffalo 66, Family Guy, The Simpsons, Sweeney Todd, Edward Scissorhands, Brooklyn 99, Supernatural, Scream (1996 ONLY), The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (1974), TWD, Misery, Karate Kid movies (3 is my favorite), Girl Interrupted, Ghost Adventures, shitty 2000s/2010s reality TV, Death Note, AOT, IT (1990 ONLY.), Cowboy Bebop, PLL, Stars Wars movies, Twilight movies, One Tree Hill, 10 Things I Hate About You, Scooby-Doo, Courage The Cowardly Dog, The Bride Of Frankenstein and Glee!! i watch other stuff that’s just the things that come to mind/are my favorites.

•i <3…music, ultra strawberry monster, fruit, sushi, clowns, cats, possums, raccoons, vinyls, clothes/makeup/fashion, sleep, my bed, rain, the Sims4, plushies, the Twilight books, 10 Things I Hate About You, fall, hot men😔, shitty low budget horror movies, gore, smashing my head against the wall and my moots!!<33

^^ME AND @iamthedisappearingboy^^ REAL NOT FAKE !!! NOT CLICKBAIT !!! MOMMY LOVES YOU KITTEN !!!

@iamthedisappearingboy IS FREAKIEST POOKIE FRFR ^_^ WE ARE MARRIED WITH 2 ADORABLE CHILDREN WHO ARE MY WORLD❤️LOVE YOU DADDY !!! XOXO BUNNY❤️🐰

•some other supa cool ppl… @naturalbornluvr @burningbeneaththeskyline @dead-end-gurl @kirkwahmmett @twilistx @y0urfav0r1te-emo @lubtubby @rottingapplegirl444 @born2d1elover @private-vampire @vampirecookieprincess @rankballs76 love all of you!!<333

Thank you for coming to my yap sesh!!<33

xoxo, Delilah!<33