#WILL IT BRING YOU MORE MONEY OR WHAT?????

[moonastro]

MAHADASHAS in Vedic astrology

So I have wanted to make this post for a very long time and since so many of you wanted it, here it issss😊😊

So in this post I am going to be going through what each mahadasha may bring you in terms of life occurrences. I am also going to be including example of specific placements that can be correlated to life events according to your natal chart also, because the mahadasha that you’re in now, looking at its placement in your natal chart influences it also.

**i am also going to include my own examples of my own mahadashas for referencing purposes

How to calculate your mahadashas?? A very handy website is farfaraway or another one would be astrosage.

what is a mahadasha?? Mahadashas are an integral concept in Vedic astrology, referring to extended periods in a person's life dominated by the influence of a specific planet. Each Mahadasha spans a fixed number of years, with its duration determined by the Vimshottari Dasha system, which assigns a total cycle of 120 years among the nine planets (Sun, Moon, Mars, Mercury, Jupiter, Venus, Saturn, Rahu, and Ketu). These periods are believed to shape significant events and themes in a person's life based on the nature, strength, and placement of the ruling planet in their natal chart. Within a Mahadasha, there are sub-periods, or antardashas, which further refine its effects.

sun mahadasha: lasts 6 years

being in the sun mahadahsa typically brings success in government related opportunities;

ego related conflicts or transformations

potential heart related illnesses or scares

12H sun linked to prison/ mental health institution/ travelling, 11H sun linked to joining groups/ finding your niche/ finding yourself, natal sun in 10H may mean career opportunities/public recognition/ relationship with father is improved if natal sun is placed well/ increased physical health/ having alignment with your purpose, 9H may be related to charities and being involved in government funded charities, 8H sun may mean related themes to banking/ financial problems/ injuries and hospital visits, 7H sun can be linked to marriage/law assortments, 6H suns linked to hospital visits/dental work/pet adoption, 5H sun linked to planning/ weddings/ hobby success, 4H sun linked to real estate/ moving house/ house decorating/ mother linked illness, 3H sun linked to transport/ car accidents/ document sorting/ government publicism/ expression of freedom, 2H sun linked to financial growth / recognition for financial gains/ can cause financial fluctuation is sun is afflicted in chart, 1H sun linked to increased confidence/ opportunities to take on leadership roles/ improved health if sun is not afflicted/ increased focus in life.

your antardasha with your sun mahadasha:

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ sun antardasha- leadership events and opportunities, success in hobbies and success in general, life may feel very bright and like its going your way, increased self confidence and socialisation.

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ moon antardasha- emotional fulfilment, emotional excitement, feeling more excitement and feeling more in general,

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ mars antardasha- career progress and change, sudden courage to do stuff you have been putting off, potential for conflicts and arguments with those around you.

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ mercury antardasha- intellectual growth and progress, potential studying success, communicative accomplishments and feeling like you get to express yourself truly with words, business advice and gains.

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ jupiter antardasha- spiritual growth and gain, financial growth and having luck with money, lots of opportunities with learning and teaching.

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ venus antardasha- romantic flings and developments, luxury acquisitions, artistic success.

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ saturn antardasha- set backs and challenges, stability in career through hard work, something that was postponed being completed.

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ rahu antardahsa- sudden changes, ambition changes and views, instability and irregular outcomes in life.

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ ketu antardasha- sudden detachments, spiritual exploration, unexpected shifts in life and events.

moon mahadasha: lasts 10 years

strengthening of family bonds

marriage

childbirth

emotional outbursts

mental health challenges

12H moon events linked to emotional transformation/heightened sensitivity/ strong inclines to meditation and yoga/ opportunities for foreign travel/ time spend in tranquil places like the sea and such/ increased spendings on charities/ hidden expenses/ opportunities to address mental health problems/ seeking therapy and counselling/ a need for emotional support/ potential sleep disturbances/ health problems related to fluids stress and the lymphatic system, 11H moon events linked to experiencing financial improvements/ Opportunities to fulfil long-standing desires or achieve significant milestones in personal or professional life/ you might form meaningful connections with influential people/Possible involvement in large organizations /Strong emotional connections with friends and elder siblings/ dealing with groups/ You may feel emotionally attuned to the needs of your social circle/ This period could involve creative or artistic ventures that gain recognition/ Opportunities to participate in charitable or humanitarian activities might emerge, 10H moon events linked to Significant progress in the professional domain/Enhanced creativity and decision-making abilities in the workplace/ Periods of uncertainty or emotional dissatisfaction in the workplace/ Challenges in maintaining focus due to emotional instability or over-sensitivity/Situations where emotions or personal matters become public knowledge, potentially leading to stress/ leading to anxiety about public image/Establishing strong relationships with colleagues/Growth in popularity or admiration due to a nurturing and understanding nature, 9H moon events linked to increased interest in spirituality, religion, or philosophical studies/Pursuit of higher education or academic achievements, especially in fields related to literature, philosophy, psychology, or theology/ Long-distance travel, especially to spiritually significant or foreign locations/ Strengthening of bonds with father figures or teachers/ Events such as marriage, childbirth, or nurturing family ties may occur, 8H moon events linked to Interest in emotional healing or therapy to address past traumas/ gains through inheritance/ Possible focus on health, particularly related to reproductive organs, digestion, or mental well-being/ Interest in alternative healing methods or psychological therapies/ Periods of emotional isolation or intense self-reflection may occur/ Increased curiosity or involvement in spirituality, astrology,7H moon events linked to bringing recognition, popularity, or opportunities for interaction with the public/ An afflicted Moon could lead to mood swings, misunderstandings, or conflicts in relationships/ managing expectations and criticism could be stressful/could indicate issues with hormonal imbalances, digestion, or stress-related problems.

6H moon events linked to Increased focus on health, nutrition, and emotional well-being/Potential for minor health issues related to stress, digestion, or mental health, depending on the Moon's condition (afflicted or strong)/If afflicted, work-related stress or dissatisfaction might arise/ Efforts to clear debts or financial obligations/ If the Moon is unstable, there may be inconsistency or struggle to maintain balance, 5H moon events linked to New romantic connections might form, often with an emotionally fulfilling and nurturing partner/Focus on children becomes prominent- could mean having children, increased involvement in their lives, or emotional fulfilment through parenting/ Opportunities for higher education, especially in creative fields like art, music, or literature/ Potential issues with digestion or hormonal imbalances if the Moon is under affliction,4H moon events linked to deep connections with family and roots, particularly the mother or maternal figures/ Renovation, relocation, or acquisition of property, a home, or land/ The health or well-being of the mother may require attention, depending on the Moon's strength, 3H moon linked to Strengthening bonds with siblings, cousins, or close relatives/ Resolving past conflicts or offering emotional support to siblings/ Frequent short-distance travels, possibly related to work or leisure, 2H moon events linked to If the Moon is well-placed (e.g., in Taurus, Cancer, or Pisces), there could be a significant boost in income, wealth accumulation, or investments/ If the Moon is weak there could be instability in finances or unexpected expenses/ Overreaction to minor family or financial issues, leading to mental stress or decision-making driven by emotions rather than logic, 1H moon events linked to shifting towards improving physical health or appearance/emphasize self-awareness, self-expression.

your antardasha with your moon mahadasha:

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ Sun Antardasha-Recognition, improved confidence, leadership roles.

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ Moon Antardasha- Emotional well-being, focus on relationships and family.

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ Mars Antardasha- Energy surge, possible emotional volatility.

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ Mercury Antardasha-Enhanced communication, creativity, and social interactions.

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ Jupiter Antardasha- Peaceful family life, spiritual growth, prosperity.

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ Venus Antardasha-Romantic harmony, material pleasures, aesthetic pursuits.

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ Saturn Antardasha- Responsibility, emotional resilience, challenges.

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ Rahu Antardasha- Disruptions, unexpected gains, emotional confusion.

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ Ketu Antardasha- Spiritual insights, detachment from worldly matters.

mars mahadasha: lasts 7 years

pursuit of goals

conflicts

injuries

career advancements in dynamic fields eg, engineering

property acquisition

12H mars events linked to Career opportunities in foreign locations or industries with global outreach/ Confrontations with hidden enemies, rivals, or legal issues/Possible health issues related to inflammation, accidents, or surgeries, 11H mars events linked to Increased financial gains, especially if Mars aspects the 2nd or 5th house/Potential career shifts involving real estate, technology, engineering, or entrepreneurship/ Surge in energy, drive, and physical stamina, 10H mars events linked to Opportunities for leadership roles/ Motivation to take bold actions that bring recognition and authority/ Potential disputes or challenges with authority figures or colleagues/ Acquisition of land, property, or vehicles may occur, 9H mars events linked to risk-taking, and embarking on exciting new projects, especially in areas related to travel, publishing, or exploration/ may face legal disputes or conflicts regarding ethical or moral decisions/ disagreements or confrontations with teachers, mentors, or father figures, 8H mars events linked to facing legal issues, conflicts/ there could be involvement in scandals/ Increased inclination toward bold decisions, possibly involving investments or entrepreneurial ventures/ might bring separations or endings to relationships, 7H events linked to disagreements or power struggles with a spouse or partner if not managed carefully/ might bring opportunities for relocation, especially related to career or a partner/ public disputes or criticism, 6H mars events linked to success in fields related to law enforcement, defence, healthcare, or litigation is likely/ adopting a disciplined fitness routine or overcoming chronic health issues/ involve paying off loans or managing financial liabilities, 5H mars events linked to focus toward education or creative fields, especially in areas requiring strategy, boldness, or physical activity/ Intense romantic relationships or passionate love affairs/ Risk-taking in speculative ventures like the stock market or gambling, 4H mars events linked to involvement in real estate matters such as buying, selling, or constructing property/Sudden changes in the living situation, such as relocating to a new home/ Purchase of new vehicles or upgrades to existing ones, 3H mars events linked to learning new skills, particularly those involving hands-on or physical effort/Care may be needed to avoid accidents or injuries involving the hands, shoulders, or during short travels/ Frequent short trips, either for work or personal growth, 2H mars events linked to heightened activity or conflicts within the family/Miscommunication or arguments could arise/A shift in personal values, 1H mars events linked to increased energy and focus on physical fitness/Potential for health issues related to injuries, fevers, or head-related problems/ may need to guard against rash decisions or confrontations.

your antardasha with your mars mahadasha:

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ Sun Antardasha- Assertiveness, leadership, potential conflicts.

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡Moon Antardasha- Emotional highs and lows, focus on family.

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡Mars Antardasha- High energy, bold decisions, possible aggression.

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡Mercury Antardasha- Sharp intellect, communication successes, potential disputes.

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡Jupiter Antardasha- Growth, wisdom, and spiritual aspirations.

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡Venus Antardasha- Romantic encounters, creative endeavors, indulgence.

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡Saturn Antardasha- Hard work, career stability, delays.

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡Rahu Antardasha- Ambition-driven changes, risks, and gains.

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡Ketu Antardasha- Withdrawal, spiritual focus, endings of cycles.

mercury mahadasha: lasts 17 years

success in education

growth in writing

teaching others something new

enhanced social events

nervous system illnesses and health issues eg, anxiety, panic attacks etc.

12H mercury events linked to opportunities for relocating to or working in foreign lands/ Interest in learning mystical or abstract subjects like philosophy, psychology, or spirituality/Dealing with issues related to immigration, foreign investments, or disputes, 11H mercury events linked to misunderstandings in friendships or social circles/ Miscommunications or conflicts in professional or personal setting/ Success in educational or intellectual pursuits,10H mercury events linked to public speaking, writing, or intellectual discussions/Pursuit of higher education or specialized training to enhance career prospects/gain popularity through effective communication or innovative ideas, 9H mercury events linked to higher education opportunities/ Success in exams, certifications, or research/ Opportunities to learn new languages or skills/Relocation to a foreign country for studies or career advancements, 8H mercury events linked to trust issues or conflicts over shared resources/Periods of emotional intensity or fear of the unknown/New beginnings after endings, such as starting a fresh career or personal chapter, 7H mercury events linked to signing important contracts or forming alliances in business/Improved communication in relationships/marriage or significant relationship developments could occur, 6H mercury events linked to bringing opportunities to resolve karmic issues related to work, health, or service/ There may be a desire or need to pursue further education, certifications/ may face challenges in communication with co-workers, 5H mercury events linked to pursuit of higher education or specialized knowledge/New romantic relationships that are mentally stimulating or based on shared intellectual interests/ Success in childbirth and a focus on the intellectual development of children, 4H mercury events linked to changes in your living situation, possibly related to intellectual or family matters/Potential mental stress or emotional conflicts needing resolution/may also start to address any unresolved emotional issues that affect your communication and intellectual growth, 3H mercury events linked to focusing on connecting with a wide range of people, whether through social media, professional networks, or educational pursuits/Learning could become a central theme, and they may be drawn to acquire practical or specialized knowledge/short journeys and travel can become more frequent or significant, 2H mercury events linked to bringing health-related events concerning speech or the vocal cords/dealing with inheritance, family-owned businesses/ focus on earning money through communication-related fields,1H mercury events linked to opportunities for self-improvement, refinement of personal identity/Possible challenges with overthinking, stress, or scattered focus/Health concerns related to the nervous system or respiratory issues.

your antardasha with your mercury mahadasha:

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡Sun Antardasha-Success in communication, leadership in intellectual endeavors.

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡Moon Antardasha-Emotional expression, creative focus.

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡Mars Antardasha- Dynamic decision-making, intellectual arguments.

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡Mercury Antardasha- Peak communication skills, learning, social growth.

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡Jupiter Antardasha- Wisdom, financial gains, spiritual focus.

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡Venus Antardasha- Creativity, romantic developments, luxury gains.

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡Saturn Antardasha- Patience in work, career consolidation, focus on responsibilities.

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡Rahu Antardasha- Innovation, unconventional ideas, potential instability.

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡Ketu Antardasha- Detachment, reflection, unique insights.

examples- during a mercury mahadasha (which is placed in the 8th house- linked to death and transformational events- my grandmother passed. it was during a saturn antardahsa that is placed in the 10th house which can often represents publicity. it was during a moon period also which links to the mother/ maternal side of family- she was in fact a mother figure.

jupiter mahadasha: lasts 16 years

marriage

childbirth

spiritual awakening

financial stability

opportunities for higher learning

overindulges and financial risks

12H jupiter events linked to resolving past karmic debts/focus on mental health, working through any subconscious issues that may affect their well-being/ undergo psychological transformation or healing, 11H jupiter events linked to increased communication with friends and colleagues/heightened public profile/ online education, social media, or content creation,10H jupiter events linked to significant career growth/make you overly confident in your career decisions, leading to overextension or unrealistic expectations/increase in income, 9H jupiter events linked to bringing opportunities for advanced studies, traveling abroad for education/pursue higher education or specialized studies, possibly abroad, with a focus on philosophy, religion, law, or foreign cultures/ expansion opportunities, 8H jupiter events linked to be drawn to the study of occult sciences, psychology, or metaphysical subjects, expanding your understanding of life's mysteries/may experience events that force you to adapt intellectually or communicate in ways that encourage deep self-exploration/may communicate in a way that deepens intimacy or resolves hidden issues in relationships. You might also explore subjects related to sexuality, psychology, or shared emotional experiences with a partner, leading to profound growth, 7H jupiter events linked to overindulgence or unrealistic expectations/involve entering a marriage or partnership with someone who shares intellectual interests/experience favorable outcomes in legal matters or business agreements,6H jupiter events linked to improvement in health or the ability to manage ongoing health issues/ focus on mental health, stress management, and using intellect to improve physical well-being/new job opportunities,5H jupiter events linked to heightened artistic output/enter into a fulfilling and expansive love affair/highly auspicious for having children,4H jupiter events linked to opportunities to learn about your ancestral lineage/ undergo significant emotional healing/ nurturing and supportive influence from your mother, 3H jupiter events linked to forming connections that broaden your influence, especially with people from different backgrounds or cultures/experience meaningful travels/bring opportunities for higher education,2H jupiter events linked to improvements in your family’s financial situation/could bring issues related to overindulgence or weight gain/brings wealth through various links, 1H jupiter events linked to leading to long-distance travel, cultural exchanges, or experiences that broaden your understanding of the world/can bring new people and opportunities into your life/engage in new health practices, adopt a healthier lifestyle, or embark on an exercise routine that enhances your overall vitality.

your antardasha with your jupiter mahadasha:

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡Sun Antardasha-Growth in leadership, success, and wisdom.

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡Moon Antardasha- Emotional fulfillment, peaceful family life.

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡Mars Antardasha- Ambitious pursuits, bold decisions, leadership.

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡Mercury Antardasha-Learning, communication skills, teaching opportunities.

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡Jupiter Antardasha-Spiritual growth, wealth accumulation, opportunities.

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡Venus Antardasha-Harmony, luxury, and artistic endeavors.

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡Saturn Antardasha-Structured growth, disciplined success, challenges.

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡Rahu Antardasha-Unexpected opportunities, material focus.

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡Ketu Antardasha-Spiritual detachment, profound insights.

venus mahadasha: lasts 20 years

romantic relationships

financial prosperity

career growth in arts and aesthetics

acquisition of wealth and luxury

health concerns related to sugar and reproductive organs

12H venus events linked to luxury and comfort in foreign lands/ Spiritual growth and harmony through creative expression/Emotional struggles in relationships, secrecy, or isolation in love life, 11H venus events linked to increase in income streams/Fulfillment of long-held desires, such as purchasing a dream home, car, or luxury items/Living a comfortable and aesthetically pleasing lifestyle, 10H venus events linked to formation of significant romantic relationships, often with someone influential or from a professional setting/Opportunities to acquire property, vehicles, or luxurious items/A tendency toward excessive luxury or attachment to material comforts might create financial strain, 9H venus events linked to meeting a romantic partner during travel, education, or spiritual journeys/Pursuit of higher studies in creative or artistic fields such as literature, fine arts, music, or philosophy/ Significant foreign travel, possibly for higher education, career, or spiritual exploration,8H venus events linked to emotional turbulence, possessiveness, or issues of secrecy and trust in romantic relationships/ Periods of emotional vulnerability, including facing fears or hidden insecurities/Exploration of healing practices, such as alternative medicine or therapy,7H venus events linked to a strong likelihood of marriage/Acquisition of material comforts like a new home, luxury items, or vehicles/Enjoyable leisure trips or honeymoons,6H venus events linked to improvements in health routines/Support from professionals like dietitians, therapists, or wellness coaches/Debts, expenses on luxury items, or legal battles involving finances, 5H venus events linked to strong focus on romantic relationships/childbirth and receiving good new about children/having success with hobbies or falling in love with a certain hobby, 4H venus events linked to childbirth/ new addition to the family whether its a new sibling or cousin and such/moving house,3H venus events linked to lots of meaningful roadtrips/ successful communications with siblings and online/ online fame, 2H venus events linked to eating lots of good food/ gaining weight because of it/ eating too much sweet food/ cooking more often,1H venus events linked to self confidence/ regaining self care/ taking care of your beauty routine and hygiene.

your antardasha with your venus mahadasha:

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡Sun Antardasha- Recognition in creative fields, leadership in arts.

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡Moon Antardasha- Romantic fulfillment, emotional depth.

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡Mars Antardasha- Energy-driven success, bold decisions.

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡Mercury Antardasha- Creative communication, intellectual success.

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡Jupiter Antardasha- Wealth, harmony, spiritual pursuits.

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡Venus Antardasha-Peak luxury, artistic recognition, romantic harmony.

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡Saturn Antardasha- Focus on stability, discipline, and practical pleasures.

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡Rahu Antardasha- Ambitions in luxury, unconventional partnerships.

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡Ketu Antardasha- Spiritual creativity, detachment from indulgence.

saturn mahadasha: lasts 19 years

challenges and delays

heightened focus on responsibilities

financial struggles followed by eventual rewards

periods of isolation

12H saturn events linked to depressed episodes/ isolation/ feeling suicidal, 11H saturn events linked to goals being achieved/ a new beginning of some sort, 10H saturn events linked to isolation/ having panic attacks/ being more self aware and reacting to other reactions towards what you do, 9H saturn events linked to opportunities for pursuing advanced studies/Significant journeys, especially for work, education, or spiritual purposes/Strained relationships with father, teachers, or authority figures, 8H saturn events linked to deep karmic lessons/suicidal thoughts or wanting to unalive oneself/ death in the family or just death/ major mental health issues, 7H saturn events linked to divorce- whether it be of parents, your own, or someone you know having a divorce that impacts you in a way/ legal problems to do with tax, document delay such as passport arriving or license being postponed, 6H saturn events linked to health problems/ getting severely sick and being impacted by it for potentially life long/ restricting diet or perhaps having a very poor diet, 5H saturn events linked to sparks dying/ interests falling apart or not working out/ finding an interest that you have been searching for a long time/final success in entertainment enjoyment, 4H saturn events linked to family disassociation/ leaving family home/ traveliing far awaty from home/ having conflict with family members, 3H saturn events linked to staying nonchalant/ reading more perhaps/posponed travel/ draining education, 2H saturn events linked to poor diet/ postponed finance opportunities which means bonus in job that is being postponed and so forth/ losing valuable items in home, 1H saturn events linked to un looked after appearance/ being depressed/ having a very isolative response to people.

your antardasha with your saturn mahadasha:

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡Sun Antardasha-Career responsibility, leadership challenges.

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡Moon Antardasha- Emotional endurance, focus on home and stability.

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡Mars Antardasha-Determined action, potential for conflicts.

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡Mercury Antardasha- Strategic communication, intellectual growth.

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡Jupiter Antardasha- Structured spiritual growth, gradual prosperity.

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡Venus Antardasha- Balance between work and pleasures, creativity.

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡Saturn Antardasha- Discipline, karmic lessons, steady achievements.

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡Rahu Antardasha- Unexpected career twists, ambition.

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡Ketu Antardasha- Inner reflection, reduced material focus.

rahu mahadasha: lasts 18 years

Sudden gains or losses

travel

unconventional path

fame or infamy

challenges related to addiction or deceit

spiritual evolution if well-placed

12H rahu events linked to development in spirituality/ spiritual awakening/ travel to foreign land and having success, 11H rahu events linked to positive changes to social circle/ meeting someone destined or fateful/ turning passion into something real and organic/ achieving destined goals, 10H rahu events linked to destined career opportunities/having a successful career debut/ being recognised with your talents and being praised by it,9H rahu events linked to destined travel/ studying abroad/ having destined education education/ being inclined to teach their knowledge to the full of your potential, 8H rahu events linked to destined to destined transformational events happening in life/ major changes in life happening that changes your future/ big money opportunities, 7H rahu events linked to meeting someone karmic/ meeting a life long partner that most likely is destined or fate involved/ getting married, 6H rahu events linked to changes to the body and your health in a life changing way/ may give illness or heal illness that makes you take your health seriously and look after your health more carefully, 5H rahu events linked to transferring hobbies into something more entertaining/ learning a hobby that may give you opportunities that you have never thought of before/ experiencing destined flings and love interests, 4H rahu events linked to creating a family of own/ a new addition to immediate family whether its you getting pregnant or having a child/ destined events linked to family cycles that hopefully change for the better, 3H rahu events linked to destined education success/enhanced communicative skills including enhanced verbal skills/ learning how to be more confident/ destined local travel also/ relations with siblings taking a turn, 2H rahu events linked to destined money making opportunities/ reliving a finance mistake you've had before but learning from it/ experiencing some major finance transformations, 1H rahu events linked to destined appearance changes/ changes to style, fashion and beauty routine/ beauty transformation for the better.

your antardasha with your rahu mahadasha:

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡Sun Antardasha-Unconventional leadership roles, challenges to ego.

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡Moon Antardasha- Emotional instability, focus on unorthodox relationships.

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡Mars Antardasha- Risk-taking, dynamic actions, possible aggression.

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡Mercury Antardasha- Unconventional communication, sudden opportunities.

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡Jupiter Antardasha-Spiritual growth amidst material changes.

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡Venus Antardasha- Intense romantic or material desires.

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡Saturn Antardasha-Grounding amidst chaos, slow but steady gains.

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡Rahu Antardasha- Amplified ambition, unorthodox successes or risks.

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡Ketu Antardasha- Spiritual liberation, detachment from chaos.

🤍🤍examples- a celebrity i studied debuted under a rahu mahadasha while their rahu is placed in the 10th house in their natal chart- symbolise career, opportunities, fame- they were under a sun mahadasha that the sun symbolises fame, and the time to shine which even more specifically their sun is placed in the 6th house- attached to labour, work and being overworked, physical appearance.

ketu mahadasha: lasts 7 years

Periods of introspection

spiritual growth

detachment from material pursuits

health issues

possibly abrupt changes in life circumstances

12H ketu events linked to changes of environment-which can be moving home/job/ hobby/ anything related to a shift in your atmosphere/ change in mentality, 11H ketu events linked to getting pushed to a new environment too quickly/ sudden changes in social groups/ forced to change occupation or how you make money,10H ketu events linked to change in job/ change in how you are viewd publically/ having a change of how you feel towards strangers,9H ketu events linked to being distant with your faith/ being put off from education and maybe not wanting to continue studying/ having no intentions to travel and having no passion for things that you used to,8H ketu events linked to death/ dept/ changes in spending habits, 7H ketu events linked to feeling lonely even if in relationship/ feeling no urge to be in a relationship, 6H ketu events linked physical illnesses occurring/ being more prone to unexpected illnesses and diseases- can occur in pets as well/ being strict with dieting, 5H ketu events linked to no interest in going out/ feeling more in tune with music or entertainment/ if in relationship losing attraction to partner, 4H ketu events linked to move in home/ family member fights/ old cycles occurring with family issues, 3H ketu events linked to unnecessary drama occurring/vehicle crashes/ poor communication/ staying more silent than usual/ sibling isolation, 2H ketu events linked to poor diet/ no interest in fulfilling basic hygiene/ not spending money or not recognising the amount of money that is being spent, 1H ketu events linked to going through a transformation/ appearance wise aswell.

your antardasha with your ketu mahadasha:

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡Sun Antardasha- Inner transformation, potential challenges to ego.

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡Moon Antardasha-Emotional detachment, spiritual insights.

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡Mars Antardasha- Energy directed toward spiritual or bold pursuits.

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡Mercury Antardasha- Intellectual detachment, spiritual communication.

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡Jupiter Antardasha- Profound wisdom, spiritual awakening.

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡Venus Antardasha- Romantic detachment, artistic focus.

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡Saturn Antardasha-Karmic resolutions, disciplined detachment.

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡Rahu Antardasha-Confusion, spiritual redirection from materialism.

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡Ketu Antardasha-Deep spiritual evolution, endings of cycles.

🤍🤍examples- as soon as i entered my ketu mahadasha, i felt so disconnected with the world its crazy. i felt almost nothing, but felt everything at the same time- jokes on me, my ketu is placed in my 12th house- lots of mental health issues especially feeling numb about most things. i used to vivid dream like every day until i entered this mahadasha so weird.

but anyway if you made it this FARRRR, you're a real one fr 🤭but no i hope you enjoyed this post, and feel free to ask any questions 👀🌼😊

[personapeters]

✰ 𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐭-𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝!𝐫𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

— frat boyfriend rafe if he turned to college instead of crime (lol)

rating: sfw — cw: a little suggestive, language

— frat!boyfriend rafe who… during the day wears his regular rich boy attire: a polo, fitted shorts, and sneakers worth more than a semesters tuition. after hours, you’ll find him casually dressed in a university branded tee that hugged his biceps oh-so perfectly, gray sweatpants that hung low on his hips and a backwards snapback that held his long hair out of his face — perfection.

— frat!boyfriend rafe who… is supposed to wear glasses but rarely does, saying they make him look like ‘a fucking geek’. eventually, he became comfortable enough to wear them around you and only you in the privacy of your dorm, and you’d tease him about how he’s the hottest ‘geek’ you’ve ever seen.

— frat!boyfriend rafe who… never lets you walk back to your dorm alone, no matter the time or circumstance. whether it be broad daylight or the middle of the night, he makes zero exceptions — he’s seen the way some of the guys interacted with the girls on campus and he’ll burn the place down before it happens to you.

— frat!boyfriend rafe who… isn’t really fond of coffee unless its fully black, but occasionally brings you your favorite cream filled and sugar loaded latte when you have an early morning class, loving how much sweeter it makes your mouth taste.

— frat!boyfriend rafe who… begrudgingly walks (practically drags) your drunk friends back to their dorms whenever you ask him to, though he couldn’t care less how they got home. as terrible as it sounds, he only does it for you.

— frat!boyfriend rafe who… enjoys to show you off to his frat brothers but simultaneously hates when they look at you. it didn’t make sense, and he was well aware of that, but it’s true — in a ‘look how hot my girl is’ yet a ‘she’s mine, don’t look at her’ way.

— frat!boyfriend rafe who… met you at the campus library, as cliche as it is. he was only there to make quick deal outside, but when he spotted you through a window as your fingers grazed the spines of the books on the shelf, he knew he had to go inside.

— frat!boyfriend rafe who… loves when you wear his university branded t-shirts and hoodies, loving how they swallow you whole as your sleeping gowns or when you roll them up, paired with leggings: “fuck, keep that one — looks so fuckin’ good on you.”

— frat!boyfriend rafe who… insists on covering any and every cost that your scholarships don’t and more; books, supplies, dorm furniture, food, clothes, gas, fees, whatever. of course, you were bewildered as to how a college student had enough money to fund someone else’s life, let alone their own, but once you learned the entirety of his lengthy backstory, it all made plenty of sense.

— frat!boyfriend rafe who… has gotten into his fair share of fights over you, feeling it’s mandatory that everyone on campus knows who’s girl you are and what happens when they challenge that. let it be a suggestive comment or a lingering touch, rafe’s always quick to set shit straight. typically, that type of behavior would result in expulsion, but with the cameron family’s high status and money, rafe was never actually punished for anything.

— frat!boyfriend rafe who… only made it into the same university as you due to his wealth. sure, he was smart but wouldn’t have made it in without his monetary advantage. he’d often get angry and frustrated whenever doing work he simply couldn’t master, but you were like his personal tutor, reassuring him that he can, he just needs to take the time and study (with your help, of course).

— frat!boyfriend rafe who… has your schedule memorized, often casually leaning outside of your classroom with his arms crossed over his chest as he waits for you to emerge so he can shamelessly perform some p.d.a. before escorting you to your next location.

— frat!boyfriend rafe who… once brought you to visit his home town on a break, the outer banks, taking you to all of his favorite spots and, hesitantly, introducing you to his close friends and family. he even explained the whole ‘pogues vs kooks’ thing, emphasizing his distaste for the latter — you honestly thought it was insane: “y’know… if i grew up here, i��d’ve been a ‘pogue’, too,” you reasoned. “yeah, well, you didn’t,” he stated stoically.

— frat!boyfriend rafe who… only went to college with the plan to build his credentials, promising his father he’d soon join in on running the family business. his father was impressed to hear that, saying, “really? wow… m’proud of you, son,” hugging him firmly in a way he seldom did; all rafe’s ever wanted was to be loved and accepted by his dad, and this was his way to do it.

— frat!boyfriend rafe who… is very aware of and annoyed by how other girls throw themselves at him during parties or in the halls — instead of it fueling his ego, it only angers him because he knows they can see you standing right next to him: “swear the bitch is fuckin’ stupid… like she doesn’t see my hand on your ass.”

 personapeters 2024 — all rights reserved • masterlist

[kissingmensbiceps]

Dirty Sheets ch.1 . . . Forgot your keys?

୨୧ summary: You were raised to be a good girl. With a strict lifestyle, college was a way to escape your small town and enter the real world. Sadly enough that meant bills upon bills, making it hard to fend for your own. That’s where Satoru Gojo came into your life. Your roommate, splitting the bills each month. You didn’t question what he did for work, and he didn’t question you. Sneaking around, doing such lewd things to rack up the bills, and secretly getting off on each other in the process.

୨୧ pairing: pornstar!Gojo x pornstar!reader

୨୧ wc: 1.9k (about a 8 minute read)

୨୧ warnings: 18+, fem!reader, smut, college au, f!ingering, jerking off, friends (?) to lovers, slow burn (upcoming), mentions of religion.

୨୧ a/n: Hi pretty babies this was just a little something that had been in my head for a while. I wanna turn it into a series but I’m not sure yet. Anyways happy reading :)

The door of your room was locked shut with extra care and serenity to block out any noise of the lewd, dirty acts going on behind. It was 9:00 pm, your roommate out of the house at some underground emo rock show—you didn’t really listen where Gojo said he was going, nor did you care. Instead, your mind was occupied and booked with the work you had to get done by the time he got home. Let’s just say it involved props, set up, and one hell of a pornographic moan to accomplish it.

Your laptop was propped up on your plush mattress, which was covered in fuzzy blankets—some of which Gojo had bought you last year for Christmas before things got rough between the two of you. It was sinful, to be making such content just to pay your half of the rent each month, doing it on the covers that he had bought you. No one else to see. Yet they were right under you in almost every video you made.

It was good money, though, and along side with your job as a bartender, money added up quick; pockets were heavy, your belly was full, and you had a little extra on yourself to do whatever.

And that usually consisted of going to the nearest sex shop in town and buying more things for your videos. Where you would store them? That was a problem for when you got home.

Clicking the big red “record” button on the screen, you get into position. You always got countless messages from men, mostly older, and even the occasional woman, and you who’d do whatever they asked. They sent the money and you got to work.

It was your dirty little secret, something no one knew about, something that no one would ever know about. You were a good girl. Coming from a strict Christian household, the youngest in the family, not even mentioning being the only girl in your family. Overprotective brothers and a pastor as your father. Of course no one would know, they wouldn’t suspect their sweet, innocent baby girl to do such disgusting things.

You flutter your eyes in a doe like manor into the camera, your eyes big and round as you slowly stick out your pink, wet tongue. Taking your pointer and middle finger together, pressing the pads of them softly onto the wet surface before closing your mouth around them, keeping eye contact the entire time. You swirl your hot tongue around your digits before taking them out with a pop.

Finally looking away from the camera, your eyes trail down, leading to where your clothed pussy rested gently on the bed. There was a noticeable wet spot through the lace, which you had made by playing and teasing yourself beforehand.

The warm fairy lights that strung along your room created a angel-like glow across your body, which was expected to be covered up head to toe, according to the way you were raised. It angled off your creamy, soft skin that was pleasurable to the eyes who would get their nasty and salacious hands on this film.

A cheeky small smile appears on your lips, feeling your heart speed up just slightly as you look at the camera through your thick lashes. You take your slippery, spit coated fingers and bring them down to your panties, going achingly slow for the viewer.

Finally you pull them to the side, dipping them into your soaking folds, feeling yourself up softly as you tilt your head back. Soft hums and whimpers escape your lips which were drawn back into your teeth. One finger slips into your warm cunt, curling it in just the right way. Slowly moving it in a steady speed, you add the second finger, making your jaw go slack.

You speed up your movements, making sounds that are a bit exaggerated—but they have to be right? You gently begin to ride your fingers like they were a girthy cock, who’s cock? You don’t have an answer, just an imagination and years worth of browsing through twitter and other porn websites under your belt.

It’s not long before you cum all over your fingers with a moan loud enough that Gojo could definitely hear from inside his bedroom, but he’s not here right now, is he? Panting softly, your brain registers that you’re still recording. You look back into the lens, and see yourself on the screen: flushed, disheveled, eyes half lidded to the point of dozing off, and fingers still halfway shoved in your spongy walls.

You pull them out, lick them clean like a cat licks her paws, before smiling softly once more at the camera. Saying a final message, you end the video and collapse onto your welcoming bed, cunt still sticky with your release.

You stare at the ceiling feeling a sense of guilt. Gods watching you. Is all that rang through your head, over and over like a bad headache that just wouldn’t go the fuck away. Shouldn’t swear either, sweetie, you know the rules in this house.

Your thoughts disperse from your clouded mind when your phone dings from beside you.

| | 9:24 P.M Gojo: omw home. open the door 4 me, lost my keys.

You sigh as you read his unwelcome message, this dudes always loosing his fucking keys. It was getting annoying at this point. At least you had a decent excuse to be a bit bitchy tonight.

| | 9:25 P.M You: okay.

You walk to the door with heavy footsteps, swinging it open to find a slightly tipsy Gojo with a bored expression on his dumb hot face. With a small huff you open it wider as he ducks down to walk through.

“Sure took ya long enough to answer the door.” He mutters, doesn’t bother to take his shoes off which you often pester him about, and continues his journey through the apartment.

“And maybe you shouldn’t have forgotten your keys-“

“—Lost actually.”

You glare at him which makes him crack an amused smile. “Right, my apologies for using the wrong terminology for your key predicament.”

He only smirks which makes you want to either punch it right off his gorgeous mouth or kiss it, haven’t made up your mind about that one yet. It was a daily battle between your annoyance of Satoru Gojo, or complete and utter desire.

“You’re in quite the mood this evening,” He comments as he sets down a brown paper bag on the kitchen island. “Almost makes me feel bad for ya.” He breaks open the staple sealed bag with a rip. “That was a joke by the way.”

“Haha, your like, just so funny! The funniest actually.” He rolls his eyes at your sarcastic comment which makes you smirk this time around as you sit on the other side of the island.

“Your ass must be pretty jealous of all the shit that comes out of your mouth.” He quips which makes you scoff. He pulls out the take out from the paper back and onto the counter, the smell of Chinese food making your mouth water.

“Oooh ouch that one hurt.” You respond to his joke as you secretly sniff out the food. All you wanted was a good meal after a tiring orgasam, but your stubborn attitude refuses to ask. “And for future reference, don’t make jokes involving my ass.”

“Why, ya a prude or somethin’?” Gojo turns around to grab a pair of chopsticks from a drawer.

“No. Gonna let me have a taste?” You nod your head to the box of lo mein that he had set on the counter.

He turns around. “Then why can’t I make jokes about your ass?” He stuffs the chopsticks into the box as he leans against the counter, completely ignoring your request.

“Because, Gojo, my ass is too good for you to be talked about.” You roll your eyes. “And it’s disgusting for you to even want to.”

“Your acting like a pruuude.” He says in a sing song voice, which was annoyingly good and pleasing to the ears. Gojo had a love for music, at least that’s your impression. By the multiple rock band t-shirts he owns and the underground band concerts he attends with his friends, it’s pretty easy to tell.

You only scoff and roll your eyes, something you did so often that it was a miracle that they didn’t get stuck that way. Pushing yourself off the counter you grab a bottle of water from the fridge “Goodnight, loser.”

“Night, princess.” You could hear the smug tone in his voice and mouth full of noodles, which makes you want to rip his vocal cords out but then you wouldn’t be able to hear the pretty noises he made late at night, whether that be his annoyingly good singing skills, or the ones he made while using his left hand.

“And find your fucking keys,” You call back. “Next time I ain’t letting you in.”

Gojo watched as you went to your room, fluffy pajamas pants making you look oh so soft and cuddly, making a perfect mental image to get off later. But he had business to take care of.

It’s not like he’d tell anyone (who wasn’t his closet friends because he enjoyed to brag) because then he’d get the label of “man whore”. And sadly as cool as it was in the men’s locker room to ramble on and on about the latest girl you had fucked, it wasn’t something you went and told other women.

That was one of the only things Gojo was good at besides making a girl have an actual pleasurable orgsam. It was who and when to tell. No girl willingly wants to have sex with a slut. Too many risks, physically and of course mentally. Man sluts never stay.

So instead of going out every night and finding some random hot chick to plant his seed and go along on his merry way, he decided to stay in and make content. Easy money, he just had to touch his cock (which he did multiple times anyway) make a few videos emphasizing his voice to either be more dominant or submissive and boom. Rent money is perfectly handled. Rest of the savings going to drinks at the clubs or parties he went to with Geto or Nanami when they could get him out the house.

He’d spoil himself by indulging on other people’s videos and smutty photos as well. He’d spend his sleepless nights searching the web for a new pretty baby to watch get herself off, picturing himself in bed with her, helping the poor thing out.

And of course Gojo never told you about his job. He wasn’t the fondest of you, and you weren’t the biggest fan of him either, but he didn’t want to destroy the innocence he thought you had.

But you both continued to make your content, racking up enough bills to move out of this shitty off-campus apartment but you never did. For what reason? You both liked the company. You liked the thought of sneaking around each other, secretly getting off on each other’s sacred body parts that were too private to actually explore.

You secretly got off to his desperate huffs of air and whiny breaths through the thin walls, cold fingers tracing your clit as you imagine that they were his.

Unbeknownst to you, he’d watch the faceless bodies on his own laptop, picturing your face on the heavenly body as he jerked off. Slowly moving his hand up and down his shaft, eyes shut tight as if they were glued to stay that way.His brain going into the dark depths that were only brought to the surface when he’d see you. His precious little roommate that just seemed so incredibly sweet, stepping into heaven and seeing her as God’s favorite angel.

[crazyvik97rpg]

Naturally, Charlotte and James offered their help again right away when Sebastian voiced his concerns. It felt good to hear their supportive words and reassurance. Still…the appointment still awaited him next week and he was scared. What if all those new methods couldn’t be used on him, were too expensive or not what he needed? What if the results came back worse than anticipated and the cancer wasn’t gone after all? These were his biggest concerns – and he hated that there was nothing more he could do but wait.

Charlotte still offered to have Sebastian see this specialist in Newcastle, if everything else didn’t work. He supposed he appreciated it – she was never stingy with money, especially when it came to family it seemed. Sebastian was glad they already considered him family – surrounded by all these lovely people, he couldn’t be more lucky in such situation, truly.

„Thank you. Really. I appreciate it a lot“, Sebastian hummed and gave a nod, to them both, „I can just hope, I guess…hope for the best. I already dreaded all the waiting before the surgery and now…I can’t do anything but wait, that’s the worst for me. But well…point is…it’s great to have you here. To spend time together. William often has to deal with my foul moods lately but today already made me feel so much better“.

They still ate their food slowly in between talking - despite the heavy topic, it was really delicious. Sebastian had appetite and he needed the additional calories - all the better for the healing process.

„Anyway…“, he spoke after a moment, „How about we stop by William‘s house after dinner? I suppose we need to bring James‘ things there anyway. And then you could also meet Pavarotti?“

For I have sinned...

The principal cleared his throat, eyes scanning the notes that he had wrote down before this meeting. It already lasted an hour, and the teachers gathered in the faculty room were becoming restless and bored. But indeed there were some things to discuss, with the concert that the senior class was supposed to perform at the end of the semester, and with recent staff changes. 

William glanced down at his watch, sighing softly. His class was starting in 15 minutes, so at least, whether the meeting will be done soon or not, he will get to excuse himself. He looked out of the window, his mind wandering. Principal’s voice turned into white noise in the background. It was a pleasant day, late summer. But William was looking forward to a slightly cooler weather. Wearing all black could really be bothersome at times. 

“And lastly, I am pleased to announce that we have finally found replacement for the violin teacher. Dear Mr Tanaka, may he rest in peace, was with us for so many years that I’ve been concerned we won’t be able to find someone as good as to fill this position.” the principal spoke. “But Mr… Michaelis, was highly recommended to me, and he indeed has impressive references. He will be starting this week, so please welcome him warmly once he will arrive. Ah yes… about that. He will arrive today at noon, I need someone to pick him up from the train station and bring over for the tour around the school. Any volunteers?” 

William was barely listening, and definitely not paying much attention. He glanced at his watch again, and saw that it was time to leave, as his class was about to start. He raised his hand to excuse himself, and little did he know, he just volunteered.

“Father William! Excellent!” the principal exclaimed. “Just don’t be late, the train arrives at noon.”

“Train…?” William questioned, raising his brow. He had a feeling he was missing something…

***

Right after the meeting, William had to run for the class, so he had little time to clarify what exactly he had volunteered for. He was a piano teacher in this Music Academy, but also he served as a priest in local church. Well respected, and rather liked. So when he later found out it was about the new violin teacher, he didn’t refuse. Who, other than himself, would be a better choice to introduce a newcome to their community?

So even though he raised his hand by accident, he accepted this fate.

After classes, at noon, William took a taxi and drove to the train station, to pick up their new teacher. Wearing black trousers, and a black shirt with a thin tie, was absolutely dreadful in this weather, so William quickly found shelter under the roof of the station platform, that provided some shade.

The train had just arrived. William had no idea how Mr Michaelis looked like, but he figured he will just look for someone carrying a violin case with them. 

He was in for a bit surprise.

@crazyvik97

[imaginaryttowns]

sevika heacanons because i'm insane abt her (general and romance-related)

(mention of sex/aftercare but no smut/nsfw/lemon/whatever here)

the card games and the cards themselves have been with Sevika since she was a little girl. she has nebulous memories of a childhood that once was, where her and her mother are playing solitaire at a small table together. she doesn't seem to talk about much from that time in her life other than that. she will get defensive if you press her about these memories.

the gambling, however, started when she was a pit fighter, in her early teens. Sevika's father was the well-known heel of a pit fighting ring, who entertained crowds of wealthier Zaunites and even more corrupt Piltovans with a suave demeanor that Sevika envied, despised, and attempted to emulate all at the same time, following in her father's footsteps for those formative years of her life. needless to say many of Sevika's current habits started during those years. in that world, one had to blend in just enough to gain social favor yet stick out enough to maintain power, and she learned the name of the game quite early in life.

she has a missing molar from those days that she somehow recovered from the fight she lost it in. she now wears it on a pendant around her neck, always tucked underneath her shirts for safekeeping.

the first time you fiddle with it was while you were sitting her lap, most likely during aftercare. she's perturbed, almost offended. but as much as she tried, she couldn't bring herself to put you in your place. she decided silently that she didn't want to remove the warmth of your body from hers, and quickly got used to you fiddling with it. low-key doesn't even want to tell you it bothered her to begin with.

while moonshine and whiskey are her usual drinks of choice, this is only because they are the cheapest, most readily available alcoholic drinks in Zaun. they are by no means her favorite ones. no, her favorite drink is the bottle of imported habushu stowed away in the farthest corner of her kitchen cabinets, that she is fiercely protective over, only ever opening it for new year's day and anniversaries.

will never admit to anyone how much the habushu cost -- she is broke with expensive tastes, and this is the only splurge she allows herself regularly.

while Sevika is a regular at the brothel post-arm loss, she is not a John as most would expect. she's there to watch - watch the dancers, watch for any workers who need help with particularly invasive clients, always watching. the silent and strong sentinel. she does this without letting Silco know what she's up to. she knows how he feels about giving Babette any kind of business, but really could not care less.

"These people need protection. Enforcers ain't exactly kind to them," she tells him unapologetically the one time he caught her. he glared at her for a moment, grumbled something, waved her away dismissively, but knew better than to interfere. Deep down, he respected her reasoning and decided she was just so good at her job that her extracurricular activities were no business of his.

with all that mushy shit being said, brothels are also great places to gamble. people there are distracted, since they have their minds occupied with the 'merchandise' so brazenly advertised there. more distracted hedonists meant more wins for her, and more wins meant more cash, more notoriety, more fun. she likes to call these little visits her "bonuses" for good reason.

now back to the mushy shit. it is a common occurrence for her to show off her "bonuses" to you and only you, sometimes showering you in paper money if she's really feeling herself that time, smarmy grin always present. nothing makes her feel better than a big win.

"Mama's rich for now, baby. Anything you want, name it and it's yours." she says while making it rain on you one day. she won't take no for an answer. she enjoys being a provider, even in shallow ways. she'll take you to the jeweler's, clothing stores, pawn shops, and buy you whatever you point to if she has enough to justify the purchase.

loves, positively adores watching you get excited over a necklace or tchotchke you'd been eyeing for weeks finally become your personal property. it makes her feel proud, makes her so happy to see your eyes light up. won't say that part aloud, but you can tell she loves it by the way she keeps giving you these shopping trips and the way she looks at you in these moments with uncharacteristically soft eyes and a wide smile.

while she was not really big on PDA when the two of you first started dating, she warmed up to it over time. and boy, did she. now she was the main initiator for such displays. you practically live in her lap, and she would not have it any other way. she loves how warm your body is, and when you're cold she loves being the one to warm you up, often letting her arm activate just so the heat of the metal can warm her poncho cape before she drapes it over your shivering shoulders.

& that's all i got for nowwww!!! hello sevika nation pls lmk if y'all would be interested in more in the near future :))

[zvdvdlvr]

Do I Look Scared? + Silco

Synopsis: You’re Silco’s bodyguard. Nothing more, nothing less. Until you heroically take a bullet for him.

You and Sevika had grown close during your time working for Silco. So close, in fact, she considered you blood: and having a bond so tight in a world so cruel meant everything. Tonight was one of the only slow-paced nights at the bar, which gave you the rate opportunity to snatch a bottle of bourbon and have a ‘gossiping session’ with Sevika about the scandals, murders, and secrets you’d encountered on the job.

“I’m not telling him anything,” you say with finality as you pass the bottle to the other woman. “Emotions only get into the way of the job.”

Sevika clucked after taking a swig of the alcohal. “Yeah, but have you considered that he reciprocates your affection?”

You scoffed. Tracing the edge of your bloodstained finger with your blade, you let your head thunk into the wall behind you vibrating with bass from the music below. “No. He does not. Besides, I do not care at all. I do my job and I get paid,” you explain. Sevika shoots you a glare over the rim of the bottle. “It is better this way. Everyone I get close to dies or leaves anyway,” you drawl, grasping the neck of the offered bottle.

From across you, the other woman sighed. “You meed to pull your head from your ass and see what’s right in front of you. If you don’t make a move now, there will be a day you can’t.”

“Sev,” you say. “I don’t care about anything except my money.”

Sevika lets you shove the bottle into her chest as you check your watch and stand up. You’re on your way to get paid, no doubt.

As you make the trek to Silco’s office, Sevika shakes her head. She knows you’re lying- you do care about Silco. But she also knows you want to remain as detatched from everything as possible so it’s easier for you to leave when you make that decision. Sevika just wishes you knew that Silco doesn’t let his eyes stay glued to just any bodyguard.

Oh well, she thinks, letting her eyes flutter shut.

“Good morning,” you greet.

Silco looks up and watches you slide into your designated spot on his couch. “Good morning, y/n. I imagine you are mentally prepared for the meeting later?”

A sly smile pulls at your lips that pulls at your one dimple. “I’m prepared for anything, Silco.”

The man told his head up and leans back in his chair. “I know,” he says. He can’t count how many times you had jumped into action to protect the Eye of Zaun. Too many times have you put yourself in front of bullets to prevent them from reaching their tatget and each time grew harder for Silco to tolerate as he grew more amd more fond of you.

Though he had the solace of knowing none of the bullets had ever buried themselves in your flesh, his fear was that one day you would be hit. Fatally.

“I understand you are aware of the repercussions of your actions,” Silco spoke to the three of trenchers in front of you.

You stood beside Silco, to the right of him with your hands at your side. The group in front of him had broken the deal Silco had offered- choosing to disregard his warnings of provoking the other dealers under Silco’s protection. An exhausting, stupid, and uninteresting experience overall, you conclude boredly. Until-

Click. Your left eye twitches as you focus your ears for the-

Click. Again. Realization flashes in your eyes at the same time the third gun cocks. “Guns,” you bark out, stepping forward with your gun drawn.

You fire two bullets at the two mutated men on the left as you shove Silco down behind the wooden chair. As two bodies fall, it seems at least ten more burst through the doors of the abandoned building chosen for the ‘meeting’. “I’m hungry,” you mutter absently as you drop three more lackeys. You duck under the fist of a stocky man. You sweep his feet from under him and bring your steel-toed boot down onto his head without glance as you send a bullet straight into another woman’s head.

“Are you seriously thinking of food while my life is in danger?” Silco asks dryly.

You scoff. “Do I look scared?” You leap at a pair of legs and bring down the lackey. Holding his body in front of you as a shield, you easily take out the last four shooters. Dropping the body riddled with bullet holes, you rush to Silco.

“No,” he answers quietly. “You don’t look scared.” He lets you pull him to his feet and examine him closely. “Y/n.”

You are still determining if the bloodstain donning his leather jacket is his or not when he steps closer to you and hesitates before placing his hands on your face. You feel his thumb rub gently at the dripping blood from your face as his eyes search yours. “Boss?”

“You… Y/n, I don’t know how to say this,” he starts. His feather-light hold on your complexion tightens as his breath shakes.

“Am I fired?” You ask, dread filling your face as you attempt to step back.

“No, y/n, you-“

On your right, you see movement concealed by the table. As you reach from your gun, you realize you missed one of the lackeys. “Fuck,” you curse, wrapping one arm over Silco and falling to the ground as the random fucking machine gun the idiot lackey somehow acquired fires. You shoot, but miss and hit the wood.

Silco groans under you, arms tight around your waist. You don’t realize his lanky legs are wrapped around your legs as you wrap your arm over his head for protection.

For a split, weak second, Silco’s eyes close as his limbs tighten around you for the illusion, that maybe you could be his and he, yours. You smell like gunpowder, the jasmine and saffron perfume you always wear, and the familiar iron fround in blood. Silco hears his ears ringing but if that’s the price he has to pay for your hand in his hair, then that shall be what he pays.

Silco is still zoned out when you flinch violently on top of him. You squirm to the other side and tighten your hold on him like a boa constrictor on it’s prey- and even though Silco is used to being the predator, he doesn’t mind. And then finally, he stops hearing the gunshots and his ears stop ringing. And when his ears stop ringing, a… longing fills his senses as you pull your protective hold from his head and roll off of him.

“Are you okay?” You ask, sitting up with a wince. “Silco?” You wince as you sit up, grabbing his chin and turning his head back and forth looking for blood or injury.

“I’m fine,” Silco answers. “Let’s go.”

As he brings himself to his feet, he gathers his senses and pushes his disappointment of not having your touch down to the bile in his stomach for the acid to dissolve. When you are not immediately at his side, he sees you sway on your feet and press sharply on your side.

“Y/n.” His voice is uncharacteristically quiet as he watches your chest heave as you fumble to put your gun into it’s holster.

“I’m fine,” you tell him. “I need to get you-“

“Y/n.”

Silco easily beats your limp with his long strides and pulls your hand from your side. Thick, dark blood stains your hands and bleeds into your shirt. “You cannot think I would not find out about this,” Silco informs you with a reprimanding tone.

You throw your hands up and immediately wobble. Silco reaches out to steady you as you answer: “As long as you are safe, I couldn’t give two shits if I got shot between the eyes,” you rasp. “This is what I’m paid to do,” you remind him.

Silco’s lips press into a thin line. “Do not ever say something so careless about yourself again.”

You look at him in confusion as he wraps your arm over his shoulder and takes a step forward. “Okay.”

Silco finally scooped you into his arms and started the trek to The Last Drop- which, was luckily only one block away. “Keep your eyes open,” he told you.

If you weren’t so lightheaded you would have thought he cooed at you. “Okay, boss.”

“Tell me something, y/n,” Silco said, glancing down at your crumpled form. He felt his jaw tighten as your face screwed up in pain as Silco took a step. He felt guilty for jostling your injured body around so much. “Tell me anything.”

Your breathing has slowed considerably. “I…” your hand reaches up to trace the curve of Silco’s nose as you fail to gather your thoughts. “I used to dance. Ballet. My mama… she was a dancer. My papa was a fighter. When I told my pa I wanted to start boxing like him, he told me I had to dance if I wanted…” you yawn and feel your head grow heavy. Your arm is too heavy to lift. Normally, that would bother you but you’re in Silco’s arms. “If I wanted to be ‘swift as a fox and precise as a snake’.”

Silco’s hard eyes soften. He quivers as you run you knuckles over his chest. “Do you still talk to them? Your mama and papa?”

“Nah,” you drawl. “Papa, mama, and Derri are dead. They… I don’t want to talk ‘bout ‘em.”

“Who’s Derri?” Silco asks.

You answer despite your ‘I don’t wanna talk about them’. Silco feels his heart beat irregularly as you burrow into his body as he carries you home. “My brother.”

Silco stays quiet. When you don’t elaborate further, he looks down and sees your eyes closed. “Y/n. Y/n!”

You blink owlishly. “Silco.”

“Hi.”

“Hey,” you reply. “My side hurts really bad and you’re carrying me. That’s not… Am I fired?”

Silco turns the corner to the main street and sees the familiar sign. “No, y/n. I would give you anything- even a job- should you ever need it.”

“I’ll be okay, right?” You ask, blearily examining Silco’s eyes for any sign of lies.

“Do I look scared?”

Blinking, a small smile pulls at your lips at the words you spoke earlier. “No,” you yawn. “You don’t look scared.”

You can’t hear Silco’s next words because you are too preoccupied with falling unconscious.

Silco shifts in his seat when he hears you cough. It’s when you try to pull your hand from his does he open his eyes. His mouth opens and he feels a wave of relief crash into him because you’re awake. “Hello, y/n.”

You shoot him a wry smile and attempt to sit up. When Silco wordlessly pushes your fatigued body back to the bed, you decide it better to lie till and be a bad bodyguard. “I am so sorry. I shouldn’t have-“

“What? Shouldn’t have done your job flawlessly and get yourself injured saving my life? Y/n, darling, do not apologize for things that are my fault,” he tells you, his thumb stroking your knuckles. “Forgive me if I’m reading the situation wronf, but… I care for you. More than necessary. I will be here for you unless you tell me to walk away and leave you to your life. But believe me when I say: thank you. Thank you y/n, but never do that again.”

You blink. “Silco,“ you begin with a raspy voice. “Slow down… for my sake. Just, be here. Or,” you shrug. “I know you probably have work to do. If you want to leave and work on that, I won’t be offended-“

“Let me be here for you.” Silco finally asserted.

You just smile and look down to see his nimble fingers tenderly tracing your veins and occupying himself with you. “Okay.”

[rezitio]

"𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐍'𝐓 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐘𝐀𝐋𝐄" gojo satoru

smut

leak: You find yourself in Gojo's bed again

genre: post-high school series, college sex, plaything, smart!rr, realistic college fuckboy (You're just a plaything), messy org, p in v, dacryphillia, gojo is high, sweet talk

artist: gojo satoru

━━━━━━

All your senses are dulled; that smart brain that was always at work, either running that sharp mouth or your honour roll grades, has gone blank.

But you're not spaced out either. You wish you could be, but each thrust brings you right back to the present. The pleasure you’re feeling down there won’t allow you to even dream of being anywhere other than the reality of Gojo Satoru’s bed being pounded into.

But who are you to complain? You called for this. Blowing up his phone with shit like ‘I need you’ when his other girl is right next to him. He was so close to blocking your number if you kept flooding his DMs.

But all it took was one nude to get this man to blow off the other girl and invite you over. You’re lucky, you tell yourself.

So lucky that fuckboy Gojo has a liking for your body. The boy who all he does is lead and everyone cheers.

He’s calling you to his bed of all places. For all his other hoes, it's either their house or another room in his mega mansion; the university calls a dorm. You’d like to think it makes you special. You’re not.

He’s digging you deep into the mattress with each thrust. Your eyes dart across the room; it's all you can do other than yell. The room was dark; the only light around was the blue LED strips hidden by the ceiling designs, matching his eyes.

The whites in his eyes had turned a light red. Contrast to your sober ones. That should have been your first sign, but from ignoring red eyes to red flags, warnings have never been your strong suit.

Your clothes and his mixed on the floor, the purple liquid on the nightstand that got knocked down somewhere in between the time you still had energy to squirm around was still dripping onto the expensive carpet.

Gojo didn’t care; he had enough money to buy another one. Right next to the cup of lean was his firearm. You don't know what happened to him during his teen years that made him turn out like this, but those who knew him when he was in his senior years all say it was inevitable for him and his group.

The lights were all so pretty. Illuminating behind the design of the ceiling. You wanted to get a better look at it, gently raising your head to look up, only for it to roughly be pushed back down.

Just like that, you were brought back to the reality of things: how deep he was in you, how loudly you were screaming. His dick was ravaging you at a constant rhythm. It was hitting that spot repeatedly with each thrust. And his dick wouldn’t even leave your warmth for a second, keeping you filled up.

A drop of salty water finds a way to your mouth. That's when you notice a pool of wet cloth around your face. You had been crying for a while now, although you’re now noticing it Gojo’s been staring at it for a while, but he didn’t care to slow down. In fact, it gave him an ego boost.

You’re crying yet at the same time begging him not to stop; how pathetic could you be? Tired of the noise, his digits find a way into your mouth. You know what he wants you to do; you suck on them, muffling your sounds. In other words, you shut up.

It was working for a while. He could deal with the vibrations on his fingers masking your loud moans until he felt himself getting close. He could care less about the progress he was making and quickened his pace chasing the release.

Trying to keep your sound in, you bite down on his fingers. He didn't mind; all his other sensations dulled down and focused on his cock. He could feel his body teasing him, electric currents rushing from his sacks through to his length, then dancing at his tip as more electricity piles on his tip.

God, he loved your body so much. It was like it was in perfect sync with his. Your lower body started shaking on his dick; the screams were slipping out; you were also close.

Your fingers reached for the hand binding them, digging your nails into his skin. “Toru…” You yelped out, but he already knew; a little bit of your white liquid was already running down his thigh. You were doing such a bad job of holding your orgasm.

“Cum on me, baby.” He commanded his hand, left your hands, and began to work on your clit as you released. All his self-confidence decimated as he felt his own orgasm rushing out and had no control over it. He was no better than you.

He pulled out, and your cream blew over his thigh; he didn't have time to mind it, though. His finger in your mouth pulled your head back quickly, rushing to release in your mouth. But he barely had control over the pleasure you made him feel.

The little squirter almost missed your mouth, causing part of his walls and the side of your face to be painted in the same liquid that was now rushing down your throat. He sandwiched your head between the mattress and his dick, enjoying the vibration of your gags and gurgles.

“Sh... struggle with me...” He lowly whispered as if he wasn't suffocating you. God, he hated how messy you were and how messy and stimulated you made him.

label: rezitio© album: post-high school au sample: Yale by Ken Carson

im currently writing a nanami fiction, so buckle up for that 😛

kodaswrld for banner

[angelart67]

100% I AM DONE CARING AT ALL WHAT THE SCREAMING SLEEPY SHEEPLES GOT TO SAY, CAUSE NOT ONE OUNCE OF THAT BS MAKES SENSE... I HAVE LITERALLY HAD PEOPLE JUMP MY 💩 TRYING TO CONVINCE ME THAT DONALD TRUMP IS OUT TO STEAL FROM ME & OTHERS... BUT NOT A SINGLE ONE OF THOSE SPOOKS CAN LOGICALLY EXPLAIN ANY OF THE FOLLOWING, AT ALL...

1) IN 2016 TERM HE DID NOT ACCEPT THE PAY THAT IS NORMALLY GIVEN TO THE SITTING PRESIDENT, SO HEY YEAH, THAT REALLY SCREAMS GREEDY PERSON...

2) THERE WAS SO MUCH DAMN PROOF OF ELECTION TAMPERING, THAT WAS RELEASED, TO THE PUBLIC &, WAS SEEN BY MILLIONS, ACTUAL VIDEOS SHOWING POLL WORKERS BRINGING IN BOXES OF MORE BALLOTS IN THE DEAD OF NIGHT & SHOVING THEM UNDER TABLES, SURE, WE ARE JUST NOIDED OUT, BUT NOBODY CAN EXPLAIN WHAT THAT SHADY BS WAS ALL ABOUT... OR HOW CROOKED JOE ENDED UP ALLEGEDLY, IN SOME STATES, GETTING MORE VOTES, THAN THERE WERE REGISTERED VOTERS, YET Y'ALL CLAIM WE ARE JUST SORE LOSERS... NOOOO, WE ARE WINNERS, BECAUSE OF THE REPRESENTATION OF OUR CHOSEN PRESIDENT, WHO STUCK BY US THRU THE DARKEST BS, INCLUDING ATTEMPTS ON THE MANS FREEDOM & LIFE...

3) D. TRUMP DID EVERYTHING HE POSSIBLY COULD DO, DURING THE SHUT DOWN, TO HELP CITIZENS WHO NEEDED MONEY TO LIVE ON, EAT & PAY BILLS, & BE ABLE TO KEEP THEIR FAMILY AFLOAT, THRU STIMULUS CHECKS, & ADDED FOOD BENEFITS... FACT IS, HE WAS ATTEMPTING A FINAL PAYMENT, BUT WAS SHOVED OUT THE DOOR & CROOKED JOE TOOK CREDIT FOR THAT LAST STIMULUS CHECK, HE REALLY HAD ZIP TO DO WITH...

4) D. TRUMP TRIED TO ALLOW CITIZENS TO HAVE ACCESS TO MEDICATION, WHICH HAS SINCE THEN BEEN PROVEN COULD HAVE HELPED SICK PEOPLE WITH SYMPTOMS, BUT FAUCI'S DIRTY TEAM SHUT HIM DOWN ON THAT EFFORT, & WAY MORE PEOPLE DIED AS A RESULT...

5) DEMS DID EVERYTHING THEY POSSIBLY COULD COME UP WITH DURING HIS 1ST TERM, AS WELL AS DURING THE 2020 TERM, TO KEEP HIM TIED UP IN COURT, FOR SOME OF THE MOST BOGUS BS CHARGES EVER, SO HE WAS CONSTANTLY DEFENDING HIMSELF, MAKING HIS PRESIDENTIAL EFFORTS, & THEN CAMPAIGN EFFORTS BEYOND DIFFICULT, YET BIDEN GOT AWAY WITH OBVIOUS MONEY LAUNDERING, THRU THE UKRAINE & HIS ADDICT OFFSPRING, & IT WAS PROVEN THAT HUNDREDS OF CHILD PORN PICS WERE FOUND ON THAT SICK IDIOTS LAPTOP, BUT THAT GOT COVERED UP & SWEPT UNDER THE RUG & NOW DADDY PARDONS HIM FOR ALL MANNER OF DISGUSTING BS, HE WOULD HAVE DONE SO MUCH TIME FOR...

EVERYTHING THAT HAS TAKEN PLACE SINCE 2019, (ESPECIALLY) BLATANTLY, RIGHT IN OUR FACES, WHICH ADDED INSULT TO INJURY, FROM DELIBERATE CREATION OF COVID-19 & RELEASING IT IN THE U.S. & THEN NOT INFORMING US, IT WAS RUNNING RAMPANT, UNTIL FAR TOO LATE, RESULTING IN HORRIBLE ILLNESS, & EVEN GENOCIDE OF SO MANY COUNTLESS PEOPLE, WHO HAVE BEEN TERMED AS EVERYTHING FROM "USELESS EATERS" TO MORE RECENTLY, "GARBAGE" BUT NOTHING GETS DONE TO THOSE RESPONSIBLE... WE ARE JUST EXPECTED TO SHUT UP & ACCEPT, POPULATION CONTROL AGAINST OUR CITIZENS, WHILE OUR COUNTRY WAS ALLOWED TO BE OVERRUN BY ILLEGAL IMMIGRANTS... ALL OF THIS UTTER BS WITH BOTH JOE B. & KAMALA H. BEING PUPPETS FOR PEOPLE WHOSE TERMS WERE UP, BUT THEY REFUSE TO GIVE UP DIRTY HIDDEN CONTROL... ALL THE PEOPLE WHO TOOK PART IN ISLAND HOPPING & PARTYING & SICKENING SEX CRIMES... IN OUR FACES PEDOPHILE BEHAVIOR FROM THE DEGENERATE SUPPOSEDLY THE PRESIDENT, WHO WAS NOT FAIRLY VOTED IN, TOUCHING & SNIFFING OF CHILDREN, & WOMEN, & EVEN INCLUDING HIS OWN FAMILY MEMBERS, & WE ARE SUPPOSED TO LOOK THE OTHER WAY BECAUSE HE HAS DEMENTIA, BUT HE IS STILL ALLOWED TO REMAIN AS PRESIDENT (ALLEGEDLY) ??

SO MANY CORRUPT PEOPLE DOING SO MUCH CORRUPT BS, & WE ARE ALL EXPECTED TO JUST SHUT UP & ACCEPT IT HAPPENING... WELL, WE DO NOT ACCEPT IT, IT IS A BUNCH OF BS, NO OTHER WAY TO STATE IT, BUT REST ASSURED, PEOPLE WILL BE ANSWERING FOR THEIR BLATANT ACTIONS OF TREASON AGAINST OUR COUNTRY... YOU JUST DO NOT COME IN & TAKE OVER, & DO WHATEVER YOU WANT, EVERYTHING COMES TO AN END, EVENTUALLY & PEOPLE END UP, ANSWERING FOR THEIR CRIMES AGAINST HUMANITY, IT IS COMING... DON'T THINK WE MISSED THE FACT THAT YOU TRIED TO MURDER OUR CHOSEN CHOICE OF PRESIDENT, BUT YOU MISSED... DONALD TRUMP WILL NOT MISS... HAVEN'T YOU ALL PACKED UP YET? BETTER HURRY UP, & WHILE YOU ARE AT IT, WHY DON'T Y'ALL JUST TAKE ALL THE ILLEGALS WITH YOU WHEN YOU GO? I MEAN Y'ALL LOVE THEM & WANNA HELP THEM SO MUCH, YOU CAN JUST START YOUR OWN DAMN COUNTRY SOMEWHERE ELSE, WE DON'T WANT TO BE OVERRUN, & WALKED ALL OVER... DO THAT, YOU WILL ALREADY HAVE A WHOLE BUNCH OF ILLEGAL PEOPLE, YOU CAN JUST MAKE LEGAL AS A FAN BASE FOR YOUR BS ACTIONS, THEY WON'T GIVE 2 💩'S ABOUT IT, CAUSE YOU GIVE THEM HOUSING & JOBS, DESPERATELY NEEDED BY PEOPLE WHO WAS BORN HERE, WHO NOW SIT ON ENDLESS WAIT LISTS, SO PEOPLE WHO SHOULD NOT EVEN BE HERE, CAN HAVE THESE BENEFITS

GO ON & LEAVE, I PROMISE YOU, YOU WON'T BE MISSED EVEN A LITTLE TINY BIT... BUHBYE, JUST GO, WE ARE TAKING OUR COUNTRY BACK FROM YOU CRIMINAL ASSHATS...

[dsybouquet]

cant stop thinking about art atelier owner! ellie who recently moved the atelier to a bigger and prettier place.

the former flower shop has stood empty for years since the old lady running it has turned too old. when ellie bought the place from her, she saw the sadness behind the woman’s eyes who spent decades of her life in the building and now had to leave it behind. therefore ellie made the promise to keep the place im a good shape.

that being said, ellie stood by her word. couple of months have passed and the atelier is almost finished. she was missing some things here and there, but the time will bring them in - or rather, her local delivery girl will.

it was a cold november day and you regretted showing up at work. since christmas was approaching, the amount of packages was nearly unbearable. you stopped the mail-vehicle and put your head on the steering wheel. “think about the money, ______.”, you reminded yourself before grabbing the letters from the box next to you.

“williams?”, you whispered to yourself, clearly remembering that the shop belonged to a elderly woman named sophie thomson.

looking at your handscanner, you saw that you also had three packages to deliver at the adress.

thinking nothing of it, you got out of the vehicle. the cold air was immediately piercing your fingers and you wrapped your scarf closer around your neck. the side door slid open and you took the four packages all adress to ‘ellie williams - williams’ atelier’

odd, you thought, but you scanned them in and made your way inside. it was completely renovated. the walls, that used to have a flowery wallpaper, are now painted in a dark green tone, that made the atmosphere super mysterious. brown armchairs and a retro looking glass table, that was littered with art magazines, stood next to the entrance. it felt like a lobby.

“hello? im here to deliver a package.”, you called out, placing the packages on the nearby counter.

“coming!”, you heard a woman reply.

rushing from the backdoor was a woman, approximately around the age of 25. her hair was half up in a messy bun, possibly to keep it out of her face. she wore a beat down overall that was covered in paint stains.

“sorry, didn’t hear ya coming in.”, she then said, looking at you with her piercing eyes. for a second you were just staring at her tattoos, her face and her eyes.

“y-yeah don’t worry! i just need a signature for one of these.”, you fumbled on the handscanner. “can i ask your name, so i can type it in?”

“ellie williams.”, she responded, leaning against the counter, eyeing you.

“alright, miss williams, i need you to sign right on the display and then we’re done.”, you smiled, holding the scanner out to her.

she signed with a smile on her face, and placed the packages on the backdoor.

“hey! i have a few more orders coming in in the next weeks. also some furniture. if anything is too heavy just come in and yell. i will make sure to help you.”, she said, walking back to you.

this wasn’t the last time you had to go to the atelier. actually, mrs. williams was ordering a lot. you always wanted to roll your eyes when you’re collages commented how many packages the adress had, but you couldn’t.

after some time passed, she would eventually start to offer you a cup of coffee or some sweets. eventually you would drop calling her mrs. williams and call her ellie or els.

“what are your opening hours between christmas and new year?”, you asked as you placed her packages on the counter and clicked the ‘recipient’ button to confirm the package delivery.

“we’re closed, but just ring the door bell as i will be here sometimes. maybe you can catch me.”, she smiled and grabbed your to go coffee cup to refill it for you - something that she started to do last week.

“______, wait here for a second.”, she then said, turning her back to you and jogging towards the backdoor. “i got you a little something.”

she handed you a dark green, christmas themed giftbag filled with some chocolate and a little canvas. “thank you for your hard work and for carrying my heavy furniture in here”

“thank you, els.”, you smiled.

back in your car, you looked at the little envelope in the bag. there was a card inside, littered with christmas wishes and..

ellies number at the bottom of it. ‘text me if you see this xx’

[joannasprose]

KNUCKLE VELVET

description:

“. . .Nothing hurts like you do. Like the way you say I love you.”

Following VI’s ‘betrayal’, the heartbreak, and cruelty that rests in her heart, she begins to embark on a path of full of physical and mental depravities that threaten to kill her tenfold.

That is, until you find her again.

⋄ ⊱ ❈ ⊰ ⋄

pairings: vi x reader, caitlyn x violet

word count: 1.4k

content warnings: angst, violence, denial of feelings, childhood friends to strangers to lovers, 3 parts series.

authors note: sorry for being gone for a little while !! I did not have any motivation to write but now it’s Christmas break so I’m hopeful I’ll write a little more <3 I hope you guys enjoy this have a good holidays 🌀 also my inspirations were knuckle velvet and the carpet ep by ethel cain - hence the chapter title and wip name :P ( also cross posted on ao3!! my user is joannasprose if u wanna read it there! It’s also linked in my navigation :) )

⋄ ⊱ ❈ ⊰ ⋄

Her knuckles are aching—swollen and bloody from her fights. Fights that were, at first to make money for herself, yet now has turned itself into something formally depraved. Perhaps another form of self-deprecation, of hurt and of the brutality in which she finds herself subjectedto.

Everything begins to hurt—the throbbing in her head, the pain of childhood melancholy, and most recently, a rebirthed heartbreak. The memory of Caitlyn's cruelty is wedged between her ribs, along with her fingers and in the wounds that won’t heal.

So maybe that’s what it is, her reasoning for putting herself on display: for digging her nails deep into her skin as her fists meet her next unfortunate opponent.

But as she lays half awake in her bed, reminding herself that she cannot help anyone if she won’t help herself, a prolonged breath leaves her mouth.

⋄ ⊱ ❈ ⊰ ⋄

YOU FIND YOURSELF sat in the stands, hands in your lap as the crowd's cheers begin at a simmer and slowly shape into a boil. The hairs on your skin have created goosebumps in anticipation, waiting unnervingly as you wait for her to enter the stage.

In all honesty, you feel a bit stalkerish. You had never found yourself trying to formally talk to her—in your defense, it had been seven years since then. Since everything went wrong and since everyone had changed. Yourself included.

And perhaps, if she had truly wanted to see you again, why hadn’t she come to find you. To scrape up the pieces of a broken love and pull you in her arms again? You try desperately to pull yourself out of your thoughts as you see her, finally, stepping out of the archway and in the attire you always saw her in.

To anyone else who might not have known her as well as you did, they might have brushed her off as just another Zaunite. One who raved in the spotlight and indulged in the delights Zaun had to offer. But you knew better.

You could see it in the indents of her skin—and though you had never come too close to her, your vision along with where you sat had been enough for you to recognize her anywhere. There were rumors that she had come back; rumors of her being in acquaintance with a piltie, others speaking of the havoc she’d caused around the streets of Zaun, sometimes even Piltover.

When you had first acknowledged them, your heart ached. For her, and then for Jinx, for Ekko. And sometimes, even for yourself.

The roars of the crowd hadn’t died down, in fact, they had grown louder when her opponent had finally come on stage. He was five times bigger than Vi in size, and usually, you hadn’t wondered whether or not she would win. Vi was a skilled fighter, fast on her feet, and level headed.

But now, as you watch her bring her balled fists up to her face, her eyes shuddering, her stance becoming wobbly as she puts her left foot in front of the other—you shamefully begin to wonder if she could truly win it, with the way she looks now.

In the first round, and even half of the second, she had the high ground. Blood was split, from his face and from her knuckles. But slowly, her movements had begun to deter, the sways becoming a more prominent factor in it all. And in the split of a second, one dipped in blood and in alcohol—his fist met her face and she’d hit the ground.

You couldn’t help but bring a hand to your mouth as a gasp left your throat. She didn’t get up, not this time. But her limp body laid there, unmoving on the ground as the crowd counted. All you could do was there, all you could do was watch as someone unknown to you, lifted her off the ground, and carried her out of the ring.

For whatever reason, seeing her like this pained you more than anything. In truth, you didn’t like the fact that she was doing this to herself. Nothing good had come out of it. In your eyes, she didn’t look happy or grateful from the outcome.

Just tired and hurt.

And so there you found yourself, standing from your spot and sifting through the crowd. Some cursed at you for blocking the view as the man below gloated his victory—but you didn’t care for it. Desperate to find her.

But you stop at your tracks at your realization. Find her and say what? You think to yourself.

You’d been gone, she’d been gone. She’s moved on so what is there left to say? But you push your hurt and questions aside, resuming your hair and leaving out the doors the brawling scene.

When times had become unbearable, much like this one, you found yourself thinking of the past.

⋄ ⊱ ❈ ⊰ ⋄

THE NIGHT IS how it should be. Your body pressed up against hers as the wind whistles, as those grueling goosebumps come around as they always have, and as Vi speaks, “Are you even listening?” She asks, looking down to your face resting on her shoulder, a crooked smile on her lips.

“Of course I am,” you say, smiling as she rolls her eyes.

“Oh sure,” she begins, trailing off before resuming, “what was I talking about then?” An even wider smile finds itself on your face—recalling the moments prior to this one.

“Um…the intricacies of…structures?” It’s silent until a laugh pulls itself from Vi’s throat, the pearls in her gums taking their place on stage as she speaks, “seriously? Did you even try?”

You pull yourself away from her, slapping her shoulder playfully as you bite your lip, “Dude! Can you blame me? It's freezing cold out here. My skin might freeze and fall off my bones.”

Vi hums in response, turning her attention to the city—the buildings that stand oh so firmly, all beautifully made in their own ways.

The silence is evident. Apparent enough to make you anxious as you take it all in.

Giving into the silence, you speak, “Vi? What’s wrong?” You follow the path that her eyes lead to. But to no avail, all you find are scattered lights and people who look like ants compared to the both of you.

“Nothing I just…” she says, beginning to bring a hand to ear to her, a sheepish smile on her lips now as you look at her. “I just don’t want this to end,” she says and then she looks at you. With a look of endearment and love and anything you’ve found yourself dreaming of.

“Promise me you won’t change. Promise me you’ll always be with me.” A smile finds itself on your lips as you lift a hand to her cheek, watching as she closes her eyes and grabs your wrist, gently.

“I promise. I won’t change. Not now, not ever.”

You say, genuinity laced across your lips.

Because it was true. It was, you’d truly meant it.

———

It hadn’t been that hard to find her.

A turn down an alleyway and you saw her.

Alone and slumped against the bottom of the stairs. For a long moment, you just stared. Unsure of how to approach her and what to do. Even now, would she have remembered you? Even after all those years, thinking of her and wondering where she could have ended up, had she thought of you?

Or were you just simply another thing abandoned and forgotten.

Undermining that fact, you stalk towards her anyways, gently and with precaution.

Finally, as you’ve set closed, watching her heaving on the sets of stairs, you see her for what she is now: a raw, gaping wound.

Hesitantly, you lift your hand to her shoulder, desperately wanting to push her into a sitting position. But the moment your hand falls close to her skin, she reaches out her own to grab your wrist. Not gentle like it used to be, but harsh.

A startled breath leaves your throat, wanting to pull away but she still holds on to you.

Her vision is squirming, her eyes are looking in every direction before befalling you.

Before her hand loosens and is gentle once again, like you’ve always known.

But she’s let go of you now as she speaks, “y/n?”

to be continued. . .

⋄ ⊱ ❈ ⊰ ⋄

KNUCKLE VELVET

CHAPTER ONE: MISUSE OH

[thewertsearch]

pipefan413: The girl that day swore she would bring down the baroness and her evil empire. She would use the many secrets she'd learned over the years against her, and began carefully plotting her downfall.

Tell us more, Nanna! I need to know what you had planned!

The prank of the century, perhaps? Something that could rob Crocker of her money, power and reputation, all at once?

pipefan413: Years went by. The girl was nearly ready to put her plan into action. But then, just like that, the baroness disappeared. She was never seen or heard from again.

God damn it, we were robbed of a final sinister 'hoo hoo hoo'!

Perhaps Grandpa had pulled off his own plot, in the meantime. He knew Crocker was a piece of shit too, after all, and might have been just as vengeful as Nanna.

pipefan413: The girl was finally free, by a strange turn of events. But not without a final jab from the witch. It turned out that in her will she had left the entire company to the boy!

Well, that really does make it sound like Grandpa orchestrated this.

If he was running a parallel scheme to Nanna’s, then they missed an excellent opportunity here to reconnect, and team up against the Batterwitch. If they’d only communicated, Crocker could have been taken down that much sooner.

pipefan413: The boy, now a grown man, was already very wealthy in his own right. He had no particular need for the baking empire, but assumed control nonetheless, and integrated the company into his extensive collection of enterprises.

We can assume, of course, that this was all in service to Skaianet. Somehow, Grandpa became aware of his origins – the how is still a mystery, unless Crocker told him in private – and he was making his own moves in the background, making sure that Sburb arrived on schedule.

...actually, I do have one new theory about how he knew so much about Sburb. If my memory-bleed theory is true, then he could have learned about the game from his other incarnation, the rebooted version of Grandpa. That guy could know anything.

Anyway, Grandpa’s moves would have been a lot more effective if he'd had any contact whatsoever with Nanna. I know this was long before group chats, but damn. Get a mailing list, or something. Communicate!

pipefan413: She considered a reunion with her estranged brother, and once destined husband to be. But the days of longing for a future with him seemed to be from another lifetime. The chance had come and gone. She was content to let him live his increasingly elaborate life, while she sought a simpler one. pipefan413: Besides, now was not the time to revisit a destiny with an old star-crossed lover. She had recently become betrothed to a fine, upstanding gentleman. Soon, she would start a family. No, not one meant for heroism as foretold, but one that would make her happy nonetheless.

You have to wonder if Dad’s father is a character we already know, or maybe another celebrity cameo. I don’t really have any theories here, but given that Betty Crocker is now critical to the plot, Dad's father could be anyone.

[ladyloveandjustice]

so like I saw this entire argument for the first time when someone reblogged this post a few weeks ago, and was like "well it was two years ago, it's cleary a reach but i'm not that invested, they clearly just REALLY want to yell about this issue of Batgirl rather than go with the most obvious interpretation that was clearly intended, whatever, it's fine" (If they had Jordanna bring up "are you poor" after Steph talked about "her own issues" it is supposed to imply she was poor, whether Steph answers or not (and why would she answer that), otherwise why would the comic bring it up, it's not deep)

but then i was looking at one of my old amvs and

Stephanie's house looks kind of rough there. Yet this was a flashback? No earthquake?

man looks rough there too and this was way before the earthquake. weird that doing-well middle class people wouldn't repair a cracked wall and window.

As I said, that there are plenty of other comics that show Stephanie's house looking run down, this is exhibit A that I just happened to run across. I didn't really have the energy to actually look but turns out I didn't have to.

Steph's dad put the family in a financial hole. That is stated in this very comic. "Using all their money" every time he comes back means a bunch of stuff will pile up and you have to dig yourself out of it. Including the house being in disrepair. In-universe, it's only been like what, a year? less? since the last time he did that in most comics she's in. People don't just automatically recover from that. And that was most of Steph's childhood, Arthur doing that. This is a comic where "we have financial issues" is directly bought up. Steph's Mom likely has very little savings.

That's all I say. Comics are inconsistent. The writers are not as thoughtful about finances as the fans sometimes. It's often hard to nail down a single interpretation. But people think Steph has financial issues because there's more than one comic where her house looks rough, because it's directly stated, it's not out of nowhere.

Like I said, not super invested, I'm not going to say else anything past this post. Steph isn't obviously in danger of being thrown out on the streets, there's miles of difference between her and someone who was literally homeless like Jason, but "struggling" isn't a reach. It's been accepted as a fact for 15 years, since the first time I got into comics, with every fan I talked to, and this is the first time I've seen it so hotly contested, even by people who were following my series of scans on scans_daily (liking it or disliking it), having bits from almost every comic Steph was in right in front of them.

(OH. oh. You don't like Stephanie. that explains the amount of passion here that was confusing for me, I didn't understand why it seemed you were so invested in refuting this. it's like a moral thing now whether she's poor? or a 'financially-concious middle class white girl" is that why white was bought up despite not being relevant to the current conversation about finances? or something? idk what's going on in fandom anymore. anyway.)

If you ever have the time/interest, would you break down the canon surrounding Stephanie’s economic circumstances/home life? It seems like a lot of people have chosen to take it a specific way so I’d love to see your reasoning

Sure. Thanks for asking, it’s honestly a fun topic.

Y’know it’s funny—I actually happen to own something that I think most people, even most Steph fans, haven’t seen: Steph’s first appearance. Not her Robin first appearance, her Detective Comics first appearance, her actual introduction. I happened to pick them up by accident at a con a few years ago because they’re also some of Tim’s first cover appearances. 

Other people might disagree with me on this, but I like to go back to the characters’ origins whenever I can to find the baseline of what they were originally intended to be and try to bring later interpretations in line with that. I like to think of retcons as new revelations, new plot twists in an ongoing story, and not a way to reset aspects of the past just to fit your story. It works especially well for this because Steph’s socio-economic status doesn’t actually change, there’s just kind of a game of telephone that happens across the decades that leads people to misunderstand. 

One thing worth noting in these early issues is just how much Steph, a 16-year-old girl, has at her disposal before she ever even glimpses Batman and Robin. Literally the first shot we ever see of the Spoiler is this: 

And because I am, in fact, that kind of nerd, I have gone in a couple of times and dug out old era-appropriate electronics magazines to figure out what that piece of equipment would cost you in 1992. Baseline for a parabolic microphone is $600, and that price is for much larger, more delicate pieces of equipment meant to be used for like, outdoor nature shoots, which wouldn’t be able to hear through glass. Steph probably dropped $1,000 on that microphone alone. 

Remember also that her costume is homemade—she doesn’t have any other way of getting it. She’s also shown using some pretty elaborate climbing and painting gear, with no indication that they were stolen or borrowed or anything, and you can see that she’s got a pretty well-stocked utility belt there.

Again, for some reason people tend to forget or overlook this but, right up until she demanded Bruce make her Robin, Steph operated as Spoiler with zero Bat support. She got some hand-to-hand training from Cass late in the game and tagged along on some of Tim’s assignments, but was otherwise being actively discouraged from vigilantism for most of her career. She made her own costume, bought her own equipment, and maintained her own motorcycle, all without the financial support of either Batman or her parents. 

So right off the bat we know she’s a teenage girl with a not-insignificant amount of personal disposable income, the only hinted source of which is the implication she works a part-time job somewhere—which I don’t think is ever brought up again when she reappears in Robin. 

We all know minimum wage went further in 1992 than it does now, but it didn’t go that much further. So it’s reasonable to assume that Steph has access to at least some money from her parents to support her vigilante habit, whether that’s in the form of an allowance, gifts that she carefully manages between Christmas and birthdays, or money that she’s able to just, take from Crystal without her noticing. 

But this page is more important to our current interests because it’s also when we see Steph’s neighborhood for the first time. We’re told here that Steph and her mother (who is called Mrs. Agnes Bellinger in this comic, although it’s possible she was using a fake name to visit her ex in prison) live in what is described as “115 South Holden Street, in Manchester.” 

Now keep in mind, the Gotham City map can be extremely fluid and tends to change depending on the needs of the story. But there have been attempts to map it, and “Manchester” has never been on any of those maps, so we have to do some extrapolation. At the very least, we can tell the neighborhood is clearly not in the city, given the very deliberate angle there in the first panel to show that they’re well away from the crowded downtown Gotham skyline.

This implies that Manchester is intended to be one of the mainland suburbs that feeds the island city of Gotham, similar to Bristol Township where the Wayne and Drake Manors are located. It’s not nearly as nice a neighborhood as Bristol—note the fenced-in front lawns, the broken shutters on the neighboring houses, and the vaguely racist lawn ornament on the Brown’s property—but it’s also not some rundown slum. People aren’t afraid to let kids play in their front yards or leave their garage doors standing open. And you’ll note those aren’t trailers, either, they’re decently-sized suburban homes.

Also worth noting: Crystal seems to keep this house perfectly fine on her own as a single mother. Arthur doesn’t live with them; when he’s shown having residences it tends to be apartments in the city by himself, and it’s not like he could support them from prison or with his ill-gotten criminal gains. And yet, we don’t see Steph or Crystal worrying at all about bills or mortgages or anything like that throughout any of their appearances. We see the interior of their house on several occasions and, while it’s often messy, it’s not in disrepair or neglect.

This is a constant portrayal throughout all of Steph’s appearances, from Robin through even her run as Batgirl. So, with that in mind, where does the idea that Steph is poor come from? Well, I’ve got a couple of theories.

One is the usual comics fandom problem: canon is huge, nobody can keep up with all of it, and some people go out of their way to be assholes about it, so misinformation gets spread like wildfire, in no small part because Steph is a character that a lot of people use as a self-insert and therefore she must be the misunderstood underdog in all things.

But on the more-interesting-to-talk-about front… I don’t think it’s controversial to say that Steph’s first big storyline was her pregnancy. Yeah? Like, it’s the first story involving her that really started getting critical attention. Whether it deserves that attention is more open to debate—personally, since reading Icon & Rocket for the first time, I’ve come to view it as Dixon pulling the comic book equivalent of white guys repackaging black music and watering it down—but the important thing right now is that it’s the first time people would’ve been specifically reading the Robin comics for Stephanie Brown. And in those comics, Steph’s house is shown as visibly run-down, covered in cracks and disrepair.

Thing is, there’s a context that people miss if you’re reading for the baby storyline and nothing else: this storyline plays out over the last days of “Aftershock” and early months of “No Man’s Land,” the storyline where Gotham is racked by a destructive earthquake that nearly levels the city and is abandoned by the federal government.

Again, we get the reinforced confirmation that Steph’s house isn’t actually in Gotham because it’s not destroyed in the quake—the neighborhood is damaged and briefly evacuated due to a gas line rupture in the immediate aftermath, but once that’s cleared up they’re free to return home, and their suburb is not part of the federal government’s evacuation. Nearly every building in Gotham is shown with similar damage during this time, including Drake Manor. 

This storyline also plays into, I think, the stereotypes that people jump on when it comes to Steph’s socioeconomic status. Like I’ve mentioned before: Arthur is a criminal, Crystal is a drug addict, and Steph is a teen mom. Therefore, they must be poor, right? Because good middle class families supposedly don’t have those kinds of problems.

But, as I’ve mentioned before, that’s an inaccurate stereotype that ignores reality: plenty of drug addicts, criminals and teen moms live in the suburbs. And the Browns’ specific circumstances are distinctly atypical of the stereotype—Arthur’s not some down-on-his-luck thief pushed to crime by economic hardship, he’s an arrogant former gameshow host who thinks he’s smarter than everyone else and resents the world for not handing him the success he feels entitled to. Crystal’s not some crack addict, she’s a working nurse who used to get her doctor friends to write her scripts for prescription painkillers. And Steph is just a teenage girl who slept with a boy and got pregnant, with the costs of prenatal care and/or childrearing never seeming to be a factor in her decision to bring the child to term and give it up for adoption. 

I could go on but that’s pretty much the long and short of it: Steph is simply not shown as being poor in the comics. Ever. She’s not rich, she does clearly rely on her fists much more than any gadgets or fancy gear and lives with her mother rather than moving out on her own for college, but she’s also never shown worrying about student loans and can apparently pay for all her classes with some government assistance and a part-time job alone.

People just assume that she’s poor because they’re misinformed, or they’re projecting, or they’ve got biases they haven’t examined, or they need her to be an underdog to justify their argument against one of the other characters, or they really want her to be buddy-buds with Jason for some reason. 

Or, y’know, they just don’t want to acknowledge that they’re rooting for a middle-class white girl from the suburbs who commutes into the inner city to pick fights for fun. 

[sturnsrecord]

꒰ — fratboy!chris & confident!reader ꒱. you meet again at a frat party — your sexy outfit, and more flirty demeanour causing feelings of attraction to stir.

you'd be lying if you said you didn't like frat parties – well for the most part. you could probably do without the cocky men and partially public sex that people took part in.

but other than that, you were in your element. flirting with anyone you spoke to, before usually finding someone who wasn't a complete piece of shit to have fun with.

about two hours in you'd already somewhat hooked up with jack again. he was eager, and no one else was tickling your fancy so you made out with him in the bathroom before he left with a smile on his face. 

as you exit the bathroom you spot chris across the room, sat on a couch with a blonde on his lap. 

now being able to place a name to the face, you had taken notice of chris quite quickly – watching as he takes a toke of his joint before holding her jaw and blowing the smoke into her mouth. 

it was obvious he did this a lot, and maybe before properly meeting him you'd seen him at parties, you just hadn’t fully noticed him. 

but now, it was very clear how popular he was – girls walking by flirtingly whilst he already had one on his lap, and another by his side. 

you began to question how you hadn’t seen him before. 

you watch as the blonde hops off his lap, kissing his cheek as he slips some sort of drug into her bra, followed by her giving him a couple of twenties.

once she's left he shoves the money into his pocket, his eyes meeting yours as a smirk appears on his lips. he nods his head a little before motioning for you to come over.

you don't think twice, strutting over confidently with a smirk on your own face. he watches your every move as you get closer, shamelessly admiring your short black dress that only just covered what it needed to. 

you sit next to him on the couch, drink in hand as you use the other to make sure your dress is still covering you.

“no t-shirt?” he mocks, eyeing up your outfit as you sit. “no sorry, not this time.” you taunt back, feigning a sad look.

“ain’ sure which fit i like better.” he murmurs, taking a swig of his beer as his eyes remain on you, all of you.

you give him a look, shaking your head slightly in amusement – a smile plastered on your face at the compliment.

you’d looked good that morning he met you, despite your obvious hangover and overall messy attire – you looked hot.

but this, god. you looked fucking incredible, short black dress and your makeup done. chris would be lying if he said it wasn’t affecting him in some way.

yeah pretty much all the girls here were pretty… but you looked ridiculously good. and it made sense now, seeing you like this all dolled up. 

he understood why you were so confident, i mean – it would be difficult not to looking like that. 

his eyes stay on your form as he slouches back, his hips shifting up a little as he gets comfortable. “have fun with jacky?” he taunts, putting his beer down on the table beside the couch. 

you look over with an unamused expression, heavily contrasting his grin. you take notice of his lidded eyes and amused smirk, assuming he was on something. 

“hmm, i did.” you respond, biting back the smile. mostly from how fucked chris was right now, different to how he was when you met him a few days ago. 

he chuckles a little, taking a drag of the joint that had been in his other hand, before offering it to you. you take it eagerly, ashing the end into the ashtray on the coffee table before bringing it to your lips. 

he's quick to look over your body as you lean over, his eyes fleeting back to meet yours when you sit back up.

you're not oblivious, you know he's checking you out. but you didn't care – and you couldn't blame him with how you looked right now. 

“you deal?” you ask, making conversation. “y’need somethin’ – what kinda shit y’into?” he asks, looking ready to sell you something already. 

you go to say no, but his willingness to sell you something off the bat has you intrigued. “what you got?” you ask, your head nodding towards him. 

he sighs, his arms extending over the back of the couch. “what d’ya want?” he asks, looking at you somewhat seriously. 

his response suggests he has almost anything anyone could as for which only fuels your intrigue. 

he clicks his teeth when you don't respond, shifting his position slightly. “you gon’ answer me or what? the fuck you want?” he repeats in a sigh.

“don't want anything.” you respond with a smile, taking a toke of the joint as you watch him roll his eyes, his arm dropping back to his side, clearly annoyed this wasn't a business opportunity for him. 

“so what – y’don't do drugs or sum shit?” he asks judgmentally, trying to figure you out in the way you were doing with him. 

you shake your head, exhaling as you do so. he immediately frowns, as if questioning why you hadn't just previously jumped at the opportunity to buy off him. 

“don’ trust my shit or somethin’?” he asks, not loving the way you were so easily pushing his buttons.

you squint your eyes at him, shrugging just to annoy him a little, with a small smirk on your face. you take a toke of the joint before passing it back to him.

he scoffs at your silent response, shaking his head a little. “you always this…” he trails off, looking over you as he takes a toke.

you tilt your head, giving him a look. “this what?” you prompt, shifting on the couch to face him a little more. 

he shrugs, clearly not wanting to share his thoughts. you take a sip of your drink, your tongue darting out into your cheek as you try and figure out what he meant. keen to know what he thought of you.

“go on, tell me.” you say, nodding towards him with a smirk on your face. “i'm a big girl, i won't get offended or anythin’.” you whisper.

he lets out a huff of amusement, thinking to himself before speaking. “it ain’ an insult.” he admits with a small grin, shifting to face you a little more. “you're jus’ very uh, sure of y’self.” he says, putting it as kindly as possible. 

“and that isn't an insult?” you taunt, raising an eyebrow at his comment. feeling a sense of judgement from him. 

“nah.” he frowns, exhaling out into the room. “i like it.” he says shamelessly, although it comes out in a murmur. 

you hum in satisfaction. “so you flirt with every girl you talk to?” you tease, picking up on the way he spoke to any girl that sat with him.

he shrugs, a dry chuckle leaving his lips. “jus’ the pretty ones.” he reaches over, picking up his beer to take another swig. 

“smooth.” you nod, your brows furrowing a little as you practically make fun of him for that line. 

he shakes his head as he puts the beer back down. “nah, you can’t do that shit t’me.” he says, almost in disbelief.

“do what?” you laugh, acting like you didn’t know what he was talking about. 

“ruin m’line like that.” he explains, his arm shifting to rest across the back of the couch. 

“your line?” you question, raising your eyebrows. “oh that was a uh, line?” you mock, pointing towards him as you speak.

he scoffs, rubbing his temple with his other hand. then he looks up, taking a deep sigh as he processed your mocking. 

he was so used to girls just melting at his words no matter what he said, but you were difficult – like flirting with you was just a challenge rather than essentially a way of manipulation.

“y’do this shit with every guy, or you jus’ bein’ difficult wit’ me?” he asks, genuinely wondering if every guy you’d slept with had to put up with your back talk before getting there. 

you shrug, giving him absolutely nothing to work with just to wind him up. and it was working. 

he scoffs, finding your attitude unbelievable. god forbid a woman not jump on him the first chance she got. 

“i only make it easy for the guys i wanna sleep with.” you chime, taking a sip of your drink as the rejection settles over him. 

he nods a little, holding onto his pride and dignity as you say that. “ouch.” he mumbles, somehow finding you funny even though you’d just rejected flirting with him. 

usually if a girl wasn’t interested he would’ve left by now, not giving her another second of his attention. unless of course she was buying off him. 

but there was something about you that drew him in, like he was convinced that you were just flirting with him and acting like you weren’t. 

but you couldn’t help it, you flirted with everyone. 

“explains how jack got y’into bed.” he retorts, insulting his friend in order to stay above the deep water of embarrassment. something he didn’t often feel.

“i think that just means i wanted to sleep with him.” you correct, bruising his ego once more.

he shakes his head, removing his arm from behind the couch to dig through his pockets, pulling out papers, tobacco and his weed wrapped in cling film. 

you watch as he begins rolling a joint, clearly frustrated with your attitude. 

“thought we got on the other day.” he mumbles, trying to make you feel bad for taking the piss out of him so much. 

but then again, he could’ve left at any point, he didn’t have to take this shit from you. 

and maybe it was the kett in his system making him less grumpy and easily annoyed, not his usual drug of choice. either that or he was still thinking he could score with you.

“we did.” you chirp, frowning slightly at the insinuation that you not wanting to fuck him meant you didn’t like him. 

he gives you a look, shrugging slightly as he rolls his joint. “so the fuck you doin’ this shit for?” he grumbles, acting like the entitled prick he was. 

“chris, is it so hard to comprehend that i’m not interested in you like that?” you ask, annoyed that he was really acting like you’d done something wrong, like you’d led him on or some shit. 

he scoffs, not even looking your way as your harsh words graze him. of course he didn’t take it personally, but that’s not to say the bruise on his ego didn’t hurt.

“that’s bullshit.” he says under his breath, clearly you’d hit a nerve. 

your face twists into confusion, his tone harsh and his comment childish. was he really gonna act like that just because you’d said no?

“you gon’ sleep with jack but not me? that’s some fucked up shit.” he mumbles, turning his head to give you a look. there was a hint of playfulness to it, like he was trying to keep it jokey, but you could see the slight annoyance in his expression. 

your lips quirk up into a small, amused smile. “why’s that?” you ask softly, your voice low as a smirk appears on your face. 

he scoffs as if it was a stupid question. “cos jack fucks f’shit.” his voice comes out in a small huff, his eyes focussed on the half rolled zoot on his lap.

“you speakin’ from experience?” you murmur, not able to help yourself from making that joke. you remain still as you speak, eyeing him from the side for his reaction. 

his head quickly turns, giving you an unamused look, like he wasn’t even gonna entertain a stupid joke like that.

you on the other hand found yourself very funny, biting back an even bigger smile. 

“not funny?” you taunt, your tongue darting into your cheek. he just glares at you, clearly bitter about the rejection and the gay joke.

“you really can't handle rejection.” you say in observation, of course making fun of him as you speak. he rolls his eyes, focussing on rolling his zoot, rather than your harsh words in his ear.

“don’ care ‘bout that.” he mutters, clearly more affected by the mocking that followed the rejection. 

“okay, i'm sorry.” you sigh, almost sounding sincere. “no more gay jokes.” you mumble with a small smile, sipping your drink to hide it. he lets out a small huff, shaking his head. your relentless mocking was almost impressive – becoming borderline amusing to him at this point.

“y’know, you're quite annoyin’ – d’you ever get that?” he snaps, turning to face you. wanting to get under your skin in the way you were getting under his. 

“i dooo, actually.” you hum, nodding along with his insult – his stupid comment making it very apparent how much you were annoying him. 

“neva thought ‘bout doin’ somethin’ with that – y’know, like not being annoyin’?” he suggests, his eyes trained on the joint on his lap.

“i have considered it.” you respond, keeping up your sarcastic attitude. he scoffs when you don't say anything else, hiding his annoyance behind an amused smile. 

“should consider' it a lil’ more.” he murmurs, making a big point of his ‘constructive’ criticism. you hum, watching him lick down the paper. “y’know what, i just might.” you speak slowly. “now that you've suggested it.” you frown – tone etched in sarcasm.

his jaw clenches a little at your sarcastic response, finding it unbearable. “you’re a reeeal fuckin’ piece of work.” he mutters, frustration bubbling over from your snappy responses. his ability to keep up and not look stupid faltering, quickly.

you only find that amusing, riling him up bringing out another level of mocking in you. of course it's rich coming from him – chris wasn't exactly a nice guy.

before you can respond with another snarky response, the girl from before returns – clearly fucked out of her mind as she slurs something towards him. 

he looks up at her with a deadpan expression, clearly still frustrated from his conversation with you.

she leans over, almost topoling over as her hand grips the back of the sofa. “your skirts a little twisted babe.” you mumble, already reaching over to fix it for her.

her reaction lags, watching as you pull it straight. “thanks giiiirl.” she giggles, before beginning to drunkenly ramble about how ‘embarrassed’ she was – much to chris’ dismay as he focuses on lighting the joint.

you don't really listen, her words more directed to chris rather than you anyway. you take that as your queue to leave, standing.

chris finally looks up, watching as you stand to leave. “oh, hope i didn't interrupt anything.” she slurs, her words clearly not sincere – not that you gave a shit what she was mumbling about.

you smile sweetly, fixing your own dress as you speak. “no, no, you're good. sit with him.” you tell her over the loud music, gently patting her hip in a soft manner.

she smiles, mumbling something else before taking a seat on the couch – her legs draping over chris’ lap as she drunkenly sits. you catch a glimpse of chris, his expression still hard.

but he's watching you, paying no mind to the girl now on his lap as his eyes follow your form – watching you walk away. that stern look not budging.

꒰ notes ꒱ building the foundation for this au 😝. get excited gang, I have a lot planned !!

꒰ taglist ꒱ @iizzyyy @sophsturns @strnilolover @sturniolossss @hearts4sturniolo @emely9274 @dominicfikeenthusiast @m6lancholiaa @dylansfavwife @conspiracy-ash @chrattsbestgirl @harrystylestigertattoo @radiohead722 @urnumberonefangirl @chaossturns @sturnina @nickgurl4life @mattsgirlxoxo @iloveduckssm

©sturnsrecord

[megamindsecretlair]

Sweet Escape, Part 3

Pairing: Bodyguard!Terry Richmond x Singer!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. Cursing, trying out some angst, teasing, mentions of loneliness, mental health, power imbalance. Mentions of violence, all consensual. Sorry if I missed some.

Summary: You are on top of the world as one of the world’s most popular R&B singers. But behind the glitz and glam, you were unmoored, lonely, and aching for something you couldn’t put a name to. Finally landing in LA, your boots hit the ground and you’re off in a whirlwind of getting prepared. During rehearsal, your agent shows up causing a ruckus. After you take a break, you wake up to the sound of desperate pounding on your door.

Word Count: 6,676k

AO3 Link | Part 1 | Part 2

A/N: WHEW. Sorry for my absence yall. My brain got hands. And I didn't mean to scare folks away! You can absolutely ask about my fics! Asking for an update just doesn't help. But sharing your love for it motivates me a lot faster! And you can thank @onherereading for gently bullying me to post sumn! LOL, love you. Toss a coin to your blogger by leaving a comment, gif, or unhinged ask.

Male dancers lifted you into the air and you continued singing the hook to your most popular song, “Eat It”. It stayed on the charts, week after week, remaining strong and steady. And it was the song that most got you in trouble for the explicit lyrics. 

You sang, testing the sound as well as the choreography on stage. Coming to LA had been a non-stop shit show of rehearsals and talk shows and radio interviews. God, you were tired. And you wanted to lay down and pig out in front of the TV. But nooooo.

Plus…well….you weren’t feeling particularly sexy at the moment. Terry rejecting you the other night shook you up more than you cared to admit. Why would he reject you? You were beautiful, smart, and funny on a great day. And yet, nothing.

There were just lingering glances and moments where it looked like he wanted to say something but never did. You didn’t like the cold front you suddenly found yourself in so you kept yourself busy, distracted, and left no room for you to be left alone with him for longer than a minute or two. 

But the hit to your confidence bruised. You didn’t feel normal. Like none of this was real. It was a cruel illusion that could be snatched away from one viral tweet, one public meltdown, or one scandal to torpedo your career. The stalker ate away at your life until you couldn’t even get a guy to fuck you stupid. 

It was embarrassing. It was stupid. He was stupid. 

“Stop! Stop! What the fuck is that?” A booming, obnoxious voice echoed in the empty stadium. 

“Down boys,” you said. The male dancers moved safely, bringing you back down to stand on your own two feet. One of their hands lingered a fraction too long, but you didn’t know if you were being paranoid or not. 

Jake, your stupid agent, came huffing down the front area aisle, a skinny tie swinging behind him. “What the fuck is that? What are you doing?” Jake demanded. He stomped onto the stage and approached you.

“Lower your fucking tone, I’m not a child,” you said. You sneered at him and then crossed the stage, taking the three steps down to the backstage area. You refused to be chewed out in front of your team.

Jake stomped angrily behind you. Terry leaned against the wall near the exit but when he saw you approach, he straightened up. You looked away from him quickly, not wanting him to see what must be written all over your face whenever you looked at him. 

“Who do you think you are?” You asked, pulling on that bitchy persona. 

“The man making sure that fat ass stays rolling in money. You are selling a fantasy up there. Every guy needs to feel like he’s fucking you and every woman needs to feel like they want to be you,” he said.

“Really, tell me more about the job I’ve been doing for years,” you said.

“Thanks to me, sweetheart. Don’t you fucking forget that,” Jake spat, pointing his finger in your face. Ugh. You smacked his finger away and crossed your arms. Jake was back on that shit. His neck and face was flushed cherry red, his eyes were glossy, and he sniffed every two seconds like he smelled something bad. 

“You can’t stay sober for two fucking seconds, Jake. Is that what happened at the club?” That would explain the bullshit he pulled.

“Hey. You’re fucking welcome. That free publicity gained you a million more followers and featured on Spotify. Who takes care of you?” Jake asked, spreading his arms wide. 

You were so disgusted, you didn’t know what to do with him. Ugh. You breathed through your nostrils, centering yourself on the feeling of it rather than wanting to wring Jake’s neck. 

You leveled him with a glare and leaned in. “I take care of you, you piece of shit. And if you pull something like that again, I’ll fire you. Stay off the drugs, Jake,” you said. The last thing you needed was to end up on TMZ, because your agent was out on another embarrassing bender. 

Jake pressed his lips together and threw up his hands. “Alright, alright. Look at me. I ain’t on no shit, okay. I heard you the last time. Clean my act up and I can stay, right? I got a suit on and everything,” he said. He spread his arms out and smiled but you weren’t in a smiling mood.

Jake pouted and wrapped his hands around your waist. A waft of cigarette smoke burned your nose and made your eyes tear up. Terry pushed away from the wall but you held up a hand to him. “Remove your hands before I break your fingers,” you said, as calmly as you could muster. 

You didn’t have time for this fucking clown. And where the fuck was Joya or Mirage? They knew better than to let Jake near you while you were in work mode. 

Jake squeezed your hips once before he removed his hands and held them up like he was so innocent. He grinned and looked down his hooked nose at you. “Just remember what’s standing between you and popping your pussy for any producer that wants to sniff after you. Clean this shit up, we have money to make,” he said lowly for your benefit. 

You didn’t know how much Terry could hear but it stung either way. Jake loved throwing that shit in your face. Loved making you think that you were some gutter rat that no one wanted. Grammy Bean wanted you. You were somebody. And no agent was going to make you feel less than. 

“Make them think they’re fucking you while you’re up there. Jesus Christ,” Jake said, needing to have the final word. He took off, disappeared to go yell at somebody about something. 

You rubbed your head, fighting back tears. Got dammit. Once you let the dam fall, the whole thing came crashing down. You didn’t have time to cry right now. Now when everyone was expecting you to lead them. 

“You okay?” Terry asked. 

You tilted your head back and swiped at your eyelids, catching the tears before they had a chance to fall. The one blessing about rehearsals was that there was no make up or restrictive clothing. You sniffled once and then straightened your shoulders, rolling your neck to get the kinks out. 

“I’m fine, Mr. Terry, thank you,” you said.

“So we’re back to Mr. Terry?” He asked softly. 

You risked a glance at him. He squinted at you, his face tilted down. You held each other’s gazes for a second longer than what was polite. You went to open your mouth when Mirage tumbled down the stairs and stopped short of where you were standing.

“Jake’s ready to see it again,” she said quietly. 

You turned away from Terry’s intense eyes, and nodded. “Let’s give him a show then,” you said.

You went back on stage and talked to your dancers, letting them know that you were going full out. You signed to the sound engineer to start from the top. 

The choreography began with the dancers standing in front of you. Once the opening lyrics started, you moved around the stage singing and rapping about men catering to women’s needs for once. That if they can’t eat it right then there was no reason to let them hit. 

The male dancers lifted you during the hook, supporting your weight while you sang and rubbed your hand along your body. You were a master at pretending. At working off the energy in the room. 

You fed off of the song and the lyrics. Embodied what you were saying. Pulled on your inner sex goddess to coo to the invisible audience. Even though you wore your favorite blue joggers and a tank top, you felt like you were scantily clad in your performance outfit. You were selling a fantasy. A fantasy that everyone wanted a ride but no one met the height requirements.

The dancers put you down and then held your hand up while you dropped it low on one of them. From this angle, you faced the side of the stage where Terry stared at you. Stared as you rapped and sang about getting ate out and having a super soaker to make him drown.

He may have turned you down the other night, but the heat of his gaze made your belly flip. Made you move harder, rap faster, and sing better like you were a siren luring men to do your bidding. 

Your eyes almost never left his as you pretended to sing to him and make him think about what he turned down. Let him think on it. Because he couldn’t have you now. You were off the menu. 

He was too far away and you were moving too fast to get a good read on his expression. He stood stiffly, feet shoulder width apart, and his hands clasped in front of him. As the song drew to a close, you winked at him before tilting your head back and belting out the final notes.

When the song ended, you tore your eyes away from the intense static of his stormy eyes to the sound of clapping from somewhere.

“Yes! Yes! That’s what they’re coming to see. Do that! Exactly that!” Jake yelled out to you. 

“Take a thirty everyone,” you said, panting from going full out for rehearsal. You stood on stage with your hands behind your head, panting, trying to catch your breath and cool the desire low in your belly.

Fuck. Singing to Terry like that affected you way more than you realized. It maybe wasn’t the smartest move in hindsight. You just needed a good twenty minutes to get yourself off.

Joya climbed onto the stage to hand you a bottle of water and some orange slices. “I put some more fruit in your dressing room in case you wanted it,” she said. 

“I love you, seriously,” you told her with a smile. 

She clutched her calendar to her chest and beamed at you. “I love you too, miss lady. Though you’re probably going to hate me now. They need you back for another fitting. Francois changed his mind,” Joya said.

You emptied the bottle of water she handed you in one fell swoop and wiped your mouth. “This is bullshit. We made a whole schedule to make sure everyone, including me, was happy about this tour,” you said.

You hated to sound like a whiny brat but fuck. It seemed like more and more things were getting added onto your schedule, things you didn’t approve of. You weren’t a machine. Did they expect you to keep working until you collapsed on stage? 

Joya smiled and rubbed your shoulder. “I’m gonna check with Mirage and see what we can do about sneaking you some off time. We have a week before the LA leg starts. Surely we can move something,” she promised.

You sighed. “I don’t want you to do all that extra work. I need to yell at Jake some more. He can’t keep adding in stuff last minute. I’m so fucking tired, bro,” you told her.

“It’s our job to make sure you’re good. Let us,” she said. She took your empty water bottle and scurried off to tend to her duties. 

The dancers were all standing around talking and laughing. Stage hands moved around the stage, talking into their microphones, and moved prop elements as they did so. As much as you wanted to join the dancers or speak to the choreographer, you also wanted two minutes of peace. 

But that meant…stepping past Terry. You rolled your shoulders. You were a big girl. You could handle rejection. It wasn’t the end of the world. 

You turned and headed off stage, taking three steps down to the main floor. There were boxes and studio equipment spread out back here, each tagged with different colored tape. Terry eyed you as you approached.

“I’m just heading to the dressing room for a few,” you told him. 

He nodded and fell in step behind you as you walked through a set of double doors, then into a plain hallway backstage. Stage hands moved around but they all moved with focus and purpose. Your sneakers squeaked on the shiny floor. Terry was so quiet behind you, you were tempted to look back to make sure he was still there. But you also got the funny sense that if you did, he’d disappear.

When you approached your dressing room, you hesitated one step from it. Logically, you knew that there was nothing in there. Terry had his team triple the security around you and you hadn’t heard from your stalker since that incident.

It’d be so much easier if you knew what they were after. Did they want to be with you? An obsessed fan you could deal with. You just ignored those wackadoodles until they made themselves known somehow. 

Did they want to kill you? Clearly he had a way to get in and out unseen. Was he someone on your team? You didn’t want to turn into a paranoid loon, looking at everyone with suspicion and further isolate yourself. But fuck.

“Would you like me to check?” Terry asked.

You stared at your navy blue door and bit your lip. Yes….no….you wanted to be brave. Wanted to handle this yourself. But you didn’t know if there would be some other disgusting rendition of your dead face staring right back at you. 

You took a deep breath and prepared to tell him no. Terry stepped forward. “There’s no reward for being a martyr,” he said.

You deflated with a sigh. “Can you check please?” You asked.

Terry moved around you and then unsheathed his weapon. He held it down and away from him and then opened your door. He went in first, moving around the space, holding the gun up. You stayed outside of the door, watching him flit through the crack of the door jam. 

The air turned colder now that he wasn’t beside you. The hallway seemed to close in on you, getting smaller and smaller. Your breathing turned choppy, looking down one way and then the other. 

When you simply couldn’t take another second, Terry emerged from your dressing room and holstered his gun. “All clear,” he said.

You nodded and refused to look at him. “Thank you. I just need some alone time,” you said.

You shuffled past him and he held onto your wrist to stop you. You didn’t want to turn around. Didn’t want to face him. 

“You don’t have to be formal around me. If I crossed the line the other day, I can transfer…”

“No!” You practically screeched and turned to him finally. You licked your lips and smiled. “I mean, no, no. If anything, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have made it uncomfortable –”

“I wasn’t uncomfortable.”

“I’m the boss, you’re in my employ. Please, don’t think nothing else about it. Okay?” You asked.

Terry’s jaw flexed but he nodded. You snatched your wrist away and entered your dressing room, rubbing the spot where his fingers had been. It was as if he seared you with his light grip and the burn lingered.

You damn near slammed the door in his face, locking it behind you. You just needed a second. A moment to breathe and not have to be “on” for people. 

You crossed the small room to the black leather couch and sat down. The coolness of the leather did precious little to calm you down. You weren’t in danger. You weren’t immediately in danger. 

Terry checked the room, he came highly recommended by the firm, and so far, he had been nothing but the consummate professional, taking your safety seriously. 

As you sat there, however, it just drudged up all the horrible shit from your past. Breaking away from your user family. On your knees begging producers to give you a chance, only for them to use their position and power to solicit sex. One talk with Jake shook you up so bad that it reminded you that every day you breathed was a gift, thanks to what you had to do to survive. 

But it had been a long, long time since you had to be this on edge. This hyper aware of your safety and mortality. Someone out there wanted to cause you harm. They wanted you mentally, emotionally, and physically cowering.

Even as you knew that, even as the logic of it settled in your bones, the only thing you could think was that someone wanted you dead. Someone deemed your life less than theirs. Someone felt angry enough about your existence to make your life a living hell and ultimately, remove you from this plane of existence. 

It chilled you to the bone. To your absolute core. One wrong move and then this would have all been for nothing. All of the struggles, all of the navigating, all of the ways you had to scrimp and scrape to be somebody. 

In the end, you were the same, lonely teenager who didn’t want to be invisible anymore. 

The sweet scent of fruit reminded you of Joya’s thoughtfulness but you were too sick to eat anymore. Maybe you just needed to lay down. You scooted along the couch until you could recline. 

You shoved a throw pillow behind your head and closed your eyes. You just needed to breathe. Just needed to focus on that and nothing else. Nothing else. Just that.

You breathed in through your nose and out through your mouth. You felt your body sink further into the couch and before long, you were out like a light.

Loud banging disturbed you from your sleep. You woke up in a pool of cold sweat running down your neck and into your tank top. You groaned and blinked into the harsh overhead lighting. 

Your eyes cracked open, heavy with sleep and eye crusties, as your eyes swept through the room. There was a director’s chair in front of the vanity, lit up by giant light bulbs all around the mirror. The countertop was littered with makeup, tissues, and hair products. 

Dressing room. “Fuck,” you sighed, rubbing your eyes. 

The banging continued, sounding louder than normal. “I’m up, I’m up, I’m sorry!” You groaned. Fuck, you felt like you had been drugged.

Your rapid heart beats only sped up as you thought about what you had earlier in the day. Had you been drugged? Was it Joya?

The banging increased and the door shook with the force. It disrupted your thoughts enough to know that Joya would never, ever do something like that to you. Besides, she’s had years to take you out. 

You still made a mental note to give her a pay bump. Mirage too. You keep them happy and they’d keep you happy. 

Three succinct booms hit the door and you jumped up. “Okay, I said I was sorry! Damn! It couldn't have been more than…” You stood up and crossed the room, unlocking the door to discover no one on the other side. “Ten minutes.” 

You stepped out of the room and looked both ways down the empty hallway. Terry was nowhere to be found. 

“Terry?” You stepped further into the hallway but it was as quiet as a tomb. The space felt empty and that freaked you out more than anything else. 

How long had you been sleep? Why did no one wake you? Where was everyone? 

A tremor made your hands shake and your fingers turned numb. Did…no one care? If they couldn’t find you, did they all just pack up and leave? 

“This isn’t funny,” you called out but there was no answer. Not even an echo. Your throat turned dry as you made your way back to the stage. Maybe everyone was having a team meeting. Maybe Joya and Mirage found a way to give you some breathing room.

You pushed open the door to the stage and walked up onto it, only to discover no one in sight. The main stage lights were off, leaving the stage bathed in a swirl of blues, purples, and reds. 

You shielded your eyes. “Hello? What the hell!” You yelled. This was beyond fucking uncool. And your phone was either in your room or with Joya, so you had no clue what time it was.

Panic clawed its way from your belly to your chest, scratching your insides with thick, angry nails. Did everyone just…forget about you? 

You brought your hand to your chest as if that would do anything. All it did was call attention to your thumping heart, beating incessantly. Everyone forgot you. No one needed you. 

“Okay, okay, okay, that’s okay,” you murmured to yourself as you paced around the stage. There had to be a reasonable explanation for all of this. 

If everyone left, that was okay. You were paying them to care, but it didn’t mean that their lives ended just to serve your overinflated ego. You would just…go find your purse in your room. You would grab your phone. Order a car to take you home. Easy. Simple. You had this. 

You told yourself that as you left the empty stage, back down the stairs, and away from backstage. You headed down the hallway, rubbing your sweaty hands on your joggers. You were just stressed, that was it.

You approached your dressing room, it had been left open from when you left it. There didn’t seem to be anyone in there. But…still.

You approached cautiously, wondering what the fuck was going on. How did everyone just leave like that? No matter their personal lives, this was unprofessional as fuck. If they called it early, they should have had the decency to let you know. And why would Terry abandon his post? It was quite literally his job to guard your body.

Highly recommended, yeah right. 

You made it to your dressing room and peered inside, stepping inward to check behind the door. Good. No one there. You stepped further into the room before it dawned on you that if no one was there, if no one was around…who the fuck banged on the door? 

You turned slowly just as a bat came swinging towards your head. You leapt out of the way with a scream, throwing yourself against the vanity. 

A figure dressed head to toe in black lifted the baseball bat to his shoulders. The figure was on the small side, but broad. Had to be a man. 

“What do you want from me?” You yelled. You moved the director’s chair in front of you, to deter the figure. He only kept advancing, holding the bat like you were the game winning ball and he needed a home run. 

You lifted the chair and threw it at him, running from the room. Facing three possible directions, you forgot where the exit was. You also forgot how to read, because there were signs but it didn’t make any sense at the moment.

The figure groaned and it spurned you to run, to flee, to find the exit however you were able to. Thundering footsteps boomed behind you as you ran away. Your lungs felt like they were going to go flying out of your mouth. They burned and ached as you ran and ran.

All of the exercise and training you kept up with did fuck all when faced with an actual attacker. Your brain was mush, operating on some basic instinct to survive. You were supposed to be smarter than this, right? 

You risked a glance behind you just in time to see the bat swinging for your head. You fell to the floor to miss it, landing hard on your thigh, and then scrambled across the floor to avoid another swing for your head.

You pulled nearby crates towards you, dollies, and anything else you could pull. One of the crates managed to trip up your attacker. You rushed to your feet, running through the nearest door.

The door banged open against the wall, echoing in the larger chamber. You made it back to the stage and those same lights blinded you as you ran across the stage. Your body felt stiff, achy, as it wanted nothing more than to stop and evaluate.

Stopping meant death. Stopping meant that your attacker had another chance to get you. 

Stopping meant – you were pushed forward and you fell, sliding across the stage. Your chin bounced against the hard floor and you groaned as your teeth clacked painfully. Pain shot through your jaw and you groaned.

A strong hand gripped you by your ponytail and yanked. You screamed as your head was pulled backwards. This couldn’t be it. This couldn’t be what took you out. This couldn’t, this couldn’t–

You kicked and flailed until your shoe connected with something. There was a harsh, low growl as the grip around your hair lessened enough for you to break free. 

You got to your feet, thigh screaming in pain as you limped back to your dressing room. If nothing else, you could lock the door and call for help. It was your final hope. You weren’t going out like this. You didn’t need anyone.

You limped past the door to the hallway, stopping long enough to bar it momentarily with a cart. It wouldn’t hold the attacker for long, but it’d buy you some time. Fuck. Everything fucking hurt. 

Liquid dripped down your chin. You swiped at it and it came away red. You groaned as you stared at your own blood. Literally at your life leaking from your body. 

“Shit, shit, shit,” you huffed as you limped to your dressing room. 

Metal double doors slammed up against the crate you pushed against the door. You looked back to see an arm flailing through trying to push the crate. Fuck, fuck. Your vision turned blurry as you limped.

It seemed like every step you took only made the dressing room seem further and further back. It looked so far away, like you were never going to find salvation. 

“Someone! Please,” you called out.

You tripped over your shoes and went tumbling forward, landing awkwardly on the same thigh that already cried out with pain. You sniffled as tears ran down your face. You didn’t know what to do. You didn’t know what to fucking do.

The crate crashed against the wall as it finally rolled free. “No!” You yelled out, finding enough strength to get back to your feet. So close, so close, so close, so close –

Your name echoed down the hallway as a thunder of boots ran closer to you. You turned around, expecting to see your attacker and that damn bat, but there was no one behind you. Nothing.

You shook violently and swayed to your right, nearly colliding with the wall. You held out your hand to stop your entire body from crashing against it and then used the wall to hold yourself up. 

The storm of boots turned the corner. Terry lead the charge and checked your room first and then swiveled. He called your name. Fuck, you’d never been more happy to see someone. 

“Terry!” You yelled. 

His head snapped in your direction and he crossed the hallway in long, determined strides. You swiped at your tears and leaned on your good leg, trying to make yourself look less pathetic.

Terry slowed as he approached you, holding up his hands. He stopped short when he got a good look at you. 

“Who the fuck did this?” He asked, his chest heaving with harsh breaths. 

“I don’t know, I don’t know,” you said, your voice pitching higher and higher. You began to slide down the wall, all fight leaving you completely. He was here. He was here. He didn’t forget about you.

Terry caught you around your middle, shouldering most of your weight. He reached out and gently cupped your face, moving it from one side to the next. His jaw flexed as his eyes scanned over you, taking in all of your injuries. 

He was joined a second later by members of his team and the studio security. Questions were lobbed at you in rapid succession but your brain had turned cloudy. 

“You’re in shock. She’s in shock, back up!” Terry yelled. The mass of bodies dispersed as Terry half-carried, half-walked with you to your dressing room. 

“I woke up and there was no one–”

“Shh, shh, not yet,” he said. 

Just this once…this one brief moment, you let yourself lean on someone else. Terry handled everyone with all the command of a general, parting the sea of looky-loo’s, likely taking photos of you at your most vulnerable. 

Fuck, this was going to end up on TMZ. You groaned at the thought. Terry helped you into your dressing room and then sat you down on the couch. He produced a jacket from somewhere and draped it across your shoulders.

You shook so badly. You were freezing, sore, and achy. You wanted to crawl up like a little baby and never see the light of day again. 

What was the reason? What was the fucking reason? Who the fuck went through the trouble of all of this? What the living fuck? 

All you ever wanted to do was sing and now…you didn’t even have that. The last thing you wanted to do was quit. The very last thing. Singing was your passion, your very being. It was the reason you woke up day in and day out. Because for three hours or so on stage, for hours in the studio, for every interview and fan interaction, you never felt more alive than when you were singing. 

And someone hated you enough to take it away from you. Your mind spun with crazy scenarios. This had to be a deranged fan. This had to be one of those crazy moms who blamed you for corrupting their youth. This had to be someone.  

Someone tangible. This was the work of one person. A smart, deranged person, but just a person. Someone who bled. Someone you managed to fight off. 

Distantly, Terry’s deep timbre barked orders but you weren’t paying attention. You wanted to sleep. 

“Let them through!” Terry’s voice boomed. You jumped from the sudden explosion, before Mirage and Joya squeezed past Terry.

He stood as a stop gap to the onslaught of activity outside the dressing room. No one was getting through him if he had anything to say about it. But then why did he abandon you earlier? 

Mirage and Joya hugged you gently, careful of your injuries. They treated you with kid gloves and that pissed you off more than anything else. You weren’t a fragile flower. You fucking survived. 

Joya cried, swiping at her tears. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. We were told to leave and then we couldn’t find you and then I remembered that I had your phone and we couldn’t even call you–”

You hummed. Even if you made it to your dressing room, there was no phone in here to help you. If Terry hadn’t come when he did, would you be dead right now? 

You hated that you had to rely on others for your safety. You hated that you were a second away from being permanently removed from this earth and it was only by a stroke of dumb luck that the idiot was scared off. 

Joya and Mirage filled you in on their side of things. They were waiting for you to return when one of the guards told everyone to clear out. There was a bomb threat that had been called in and they needed to sweep the building to get everyone out. 

But why didn’t Terry take you with him? 

Your eyes kept glancing over to him as he coordinated with the police and with his team to secure everything back down. His menacing scowl intimidated those around him as he barked orders and commanded everyone. 

Terry glanced at you from time to time. He would give one nod of his head and you returned it. But his whereabouts were more concerning to you. Over the past year, he had been your constant shadow. Nothing fazed him. Nothing tore him up. So where the fuck did he go? 

Terry re-entered the room and stopped short of you. He dropped down into a squat so that he could look you in the eye. “Feel up to talking?” 

You took a deep breath. “Not really. But I know I need to,” you said. The question you most wanted to ask stuck in your throat. You were to afraid of the answer. 

“You don’t have to. We can tell them to meet you somewhere else,” he said. 

You shook your head. “I’m a big girl. I want to get it over with,” you said.

His chin dipped once as his eyes roamed over you. You must look absolutely horrendous. To his credit, he didn’t say anything as he stood and went to the door. He waved to someone and then two men followed behind Terry into your dressing room.

The room grew stuffier, filled with too many bodies. Crowding your space. You dug your nails into the palms of your hands to ground yourself. You were safe. You survived. 

One of the men introduced himself as Henry Bell, a detective with LAPD who was coordinating with the detective in charge of your stalker case. Because you were hopping through multiple cities, it was hard for any one detective to handle it. 

The other man was Patrick Rollins, head of security for the venue. The men asked you to run through what you remembered and what happened. 

You pulled the coat around your shoulders and Mirage and Joya scooted closer to you but you still felt alone. Abandoned. Cold. Like the heat of their bodies couldn’t penetrate the dense fog around you.

You pushed that from your mind as you told them what happened, starting from when you woke up to when Terry found you. You glanced at him as you spoke, wanting to see his reaction yet still afraid of what his excuse was.

He didn’t owe you a damn thing. But you still needed to know why you weren’t important enough to take with. 

They asked more questions, pushed to see if you recognized anything about your attacker. You kept telling them no, getting more agitated the more they asked. How many other ways could you say that you didn’t recognize the loser? 

“Alright, you should have enough,” Terry said. 

“We still have questions–” Rollins started.

“You have enough for now,” Terry reiterated. Rollins sized up Terry but Terry didn’t blink. Didn’t move. He merely kept his open stance and faced the detective and head of security. 

Rollins pushed boyish blond hair out of his face and then nodded. Detective Bill rocked back on his heels and then shoved his notebook into his coat and clicked a pen. “If you think of anything else, let us know, please,” he said. “And I’m sorry this happened to you.” 

You nodded to them and mumbled your thanks. They left with lingering, heated glances with Terry. He saw them out and then he half closed the door. 

“There’s a few things I need to handle and then we can get out of here.” 

You nodded, staring towards your shoes. Everything fucking hurt. You just wanted to turn into a giant baby. But people like you didn’t get to be coddled. You didn’t get to be human. It shattered the illusion and the fantasy.

You picked at the dry blood on your chin. Angie was going to kill you for messing up your face. You sighed and leaned forward.

“Do you have a headache, babe?” Mirage asked. 

You nodded. “I’ll check with a paramedic. They should be here by now.” Mirage stood up and grabbed Joya by the elbow. She protested for half a minute but you didn’t see what Mirage did to make Joya grow quiet. They left the room, leaving you and Terry alone. The last time you had been left alone together didn’t exactly go as planned. 

“Hey,” Terry said. 

You bit the inside of your cheek and then reluctantly looked at him. “How are you really doing?” 

You took a deep breath. “I’m fine,” you said. 

He crossed the room and then dropped into a squat. “There’s no reward for being a martyr,” he said.

You rolled your eyes but you smirked, refusing to smile at his words. “Everything hurts. But I’ll be okay,” you said. 

He nodded. You held each other’s gazes for a moment, just taking him in. His eyes scanned over you, jaw flexing. You didn’t know what he saw. Probably a terrified mess.

“I should apologize–” he started.

“Where were–” you said at the same time. 

He shook his head. “The bomb threat smelled like bullshit so I left a guard to watch you while I checked it out. I was locked in a closet and by the time I burst free, everyone was gone. I went looking, but the guard left his post. Fresh out the military, the bomb was triggering,” he said. His jaw flexed after he said that. 

“You couldn’t know it was triggering,” you said. Well, that explained that. You weren’t sure what you were looking for. An undying apology while he was on his knees? For him to acknowledge that he never would’ve left you voluntarily? He didn’t owe you anything. No one did. 

“He left his post. He’s fired,” Terry said with venom behind his words. 

You smiled ruefully. “That’s a bit harsh,” you said.

Terry blinked at you and you decided to drop it. Apparently, it was important to him and you didn’t know enough about the nuances about this stuff to comment. 

“We’re going to find this motherfucker,” Terry promised.

“Thank you. For coming when you did,” you said quietly. 

“I’m not leaving your side again,” he said. 

Your teeth clicked shut, drawing attention to your bruised chin. You didn’t know how to respond. He wasn’t supposed to leave your side earlier. But he did. You settled on a nod. 

Terry lifted from his squat and then returned to his duties, ordering people around, coordinating with others. 

Everything else moved along in a blur. First, you were checked out by a paramedic while Terry watched him like a hawk. You were treated for the scrape on your chin and your thigh was merely bruised. No sprains, no injuries. The paramedic called you lucky. Yeah, right. 

Terry managed to escort you to a truck that had been brought round back and off to the hotel room. The city nightlife went on without you. Though you did pass by a restaurant in downtown LA that played your latest song with Lord A.K. That sort of made you smile. 

You didn’t remember much about the ride to your hotel room besides one minute you were at the venue and the next you stood inside your hotel doorway while Terry checked around. 

“We’ll switch hotels tomorrow. For now, you can rest.” 

You nodded and went to your room without a word. Though you did stop just outside your bedroom. 

“Terry?” You asked.

“Yes, princess?” He asked.

You huffed with a smirk and then turned to him. “I want to learn how to defend myself. Will you teach me?” You asked. 

It wasn’t enough to survive anymore. It no longer suited you to just wait around for this lunatic to kill you. Clearly, your security wasn’t up to snuff. Clearly, this person could get to you at any point and at any time. The only person who could save you was you.

“If that’s what you want,” Terry said.

“That’s what I want.” 

Thank you, my loves. The Secret Terry Richmond Files | Part 1 | Part 2

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[ragana62]

This. This is also why (in combination with the whole 12 years in Azkaban thing) I think the characterization of him as “oh, pureblood character who actually knows muggle culture as opposed to Arthur “what is the function of a rubber duck” “how does the money work at the tube station” Weasley who thinks it’s neat but doesn’t fully get it” is also inaccurate.

Sirius didn’t have a chance of much if any exposure until he was at Hogwarts. Then he spent his entire 20’s in prison where he absolutely wouldn’t have time to keep up to date on the latest muggle music/fashion/etc even if he wanted to. Sure, maybe he took to it like a fish in water when he had it, but that’s still 10 years max of exposure, mostly from other 11-17 year olds, many of whom if they knew any muggle music probably did like the poppier end of things at least in part because that’s how the stats on it work.

Not to mention, he didn’t not have cultural exposure before then. Wizarding music seems to reflect muggle music a bit, but something tells me that even if there was a Weird Sister’s equivalent for the 60’s/70’s, it probably wasn’t something getting much play time at Grimmauld, at least not with parental approval. This is a kid who turned up at 11 probably most accustomed to listening to things on the classical/jazz/easy listening end of the spectrum. You don’t immediately go from concertos and Sinatra to hardcore, not without a bridge between them.

That of course doesn’t somehow make him less punk. Billie Joe Armstrong from Green Day has a musical theater/jazz background and that doesn’t mean it wasn’t punk as fuck that at early shows the band made a point of booking queer opening acts and then getting in the pit themselves to beat up the bigots turning up to give them shit. I’m not saying I don’t think he could have gotten into harder genres once he was exposed because I also had a classical background and have played in punk/goth bands. I just think odds are if he did it took a lot of habit breaking, and maybe, just maybe, he never quite took to the full heavy stuff as much as a lot of fandom likes to immediately assume because at the end of the day, while Judas Priest and X-Ray Spex and the like might piss off his parents the most, it’s an easier transition from listening to Celestina Warbeck at the most pop adjacent to liking ABBA/Cher/etc.

Actually, because of this, I think he probably took to goth/new wave/more art rockexperimental stuff better than punk. It’s a much easier adjustment going from Sinatra to Cher to Lene Lovich/Kate Bush/Yazoo, etc. It’s more melodic in a lot of ways as a general rule, there’s more obvious overlap. There was also a pretty solid British Blues scene (I.e. Dr Feelgood) that I feel like would be a logical transition point as well, not to mention I feel like Remus perpetually exists in the Mod side of things where he’d have at least some of it sitting around for it. Of the major British punk bands of his era, I feel like The Clash would be the easiest to adjust to, because again, they lean in on more melodic sounds, less intentional dissonance etc., particularly from London Calling on.

Then he goes to prison, hears nothing, experiences nothing, and gets out in the early to mid 90’s right in time for BritPop, for Pulp and Blur and Oasis and Black Grape, and I think that too would be an easy transition for him, though he’d still not have as much exposure because he’s in hiding and under what amounts to house arrest until he dies. So maybe Tonks brings him records here and there, maybe he steals an issue of NME off a newsstand here and there, but I don’t think he’s going to necessarily be more properly informed than someone like Arthur who actively has to work around muggle things, or for that matter someone like Kingsley who is actively working for the PM undercover at that time and almost certainly does have to be able to at least fake it convincingly enough to keep that up.

one thing that i haven't ever totally agreed with is how some part of the fandom portrays sirius as this character that was born good and who has been against his family from the second he learned how to talk.

the tragedy behind the black brothers is that one of them had a support system who helped him see how his family's beliefs were not the correct way to go and offered him a safe space to run to when it all came crashing down. while the other was stuck not only by his family's duty but everywhere he turned was also filled with the same beliefs.

i don't think sirius was fighting with his parents about muggles and blood purity until maybe a year after coming back from hogwarts. i think he had the same beliefs, actually, because that's all he knew. he might have doubted them a time or two after spending time with andromeda or alphard, but at the end of the day he was a child, and children do follow whatever their parents tell them to, especially when there's not a proper and constant role model teaching them there is another way.

sirius was the proper black heir until getting to hogwarts, but deconstructing himself didn't take a day. i've read how he feels free the second he gets into gryffindor, and how with a single chat with james, he's ready to forget about everything his parents have spent years telling him.

sirius was probably spewing the same pureblood things his parents taught him, he was probably not happy about getting into gryffindor in the first place, it's against everything he had been told his entire life.

that's where the marauders intervene, he is able to have his own beliefs and realize that his family was wrong because he had a whole group of people teaching him and allowing him to make mistakes along the way without fear.

while regulus has been stuck forever, first in his own house, then in slytherin, and then with the death eaters. he also learnt about loyalty and friendship and what was wrong or right, yes. but he didn't have the freedom to even talk out loud about it given the place he was in.

their own personalities doom both of them. when sirius learns that his family is wrong, he turns defiant and outspoken, that's how he is and even if he's aware of it or not, he has the liberty of having a place to go to when things go wrong. regulus is cunning and thinks everything through first, so even if he learns his family is wrong, he knows he can't say anything, his friends are tied in the same world, and his only "protector" is gone.

that's the tragedy between them.

they are both the same, no one wasn't born being "good", one just got lucky enough to be placed with the correct people

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

The Gingerbread Matchmaker

Rating: Teen? If even, but I still appreciate MDNI. Pairing: No Outbreak Joel Miller x Female Reader Words Count: 4,500 Summary: You're the owner of the struggling bakery Sweet Nothing, and you're quickly running out of money—and patience. Your town's annual gingerbread house competition is your last ditch effort to save everything you've worked so hard on. Too bad you quickly discover that you're a baker—and not a contractor. Enter, Sarah Miller, offering her dad's building skills. Warnings: fluff, Hallmark Christmas movie vibes, Sarah Miller the matchmaker, I believe in a world where Joel Miller is happy, Christmas vibes, a lot of baking, not beta read

A/N: Happy holidays everybody! This idea planted in my head a few nights ago and I just had to get this out to y'all. Thank you to @saradika for the gingerbread dividers!

Masterlist

You're a whirlwind of aprons and flour-dusted hands as you flit around Sweet Nothing Bakery, your labor of love. The display before you blooms into a colorful bouquet of cupcakes, each one baked then frosted with meticulous care.

Only you, the hopeless dreamer who has always believed that one good chocolate chip cookie can instantly improve a bad day, would decide to pack up your whole life, purchase a long-closed-down bakery sight unseen, and move to a cozy suburb outside of Austin that you’ve never even visited before.

And here you are now, your eyes flickering toward the door every few minutes. You've poured everything into this place – your savings and your dreams. The bell above the door remains silent, though.

"Maybe it's just another off day," you mumble to yourself. Your wrist twists, bringing the face of your watch into view for the third time in ten minutes.

As if on cue, the door creaks open, and your heart leaps. But it's only Mr. Bowe from the music shop next door, his gaze sweeping over the cupcakes before he offers a sympathetic smile. "Just looking at all of the pretty pastries, my dear," he says.

You nod with a practiced grin that doesn't quite reach your eyes.

"Let me know if anything tempts you," you reply, already turning back to rearrange a tray of lemon cupcakes.

"Will do," Mr. Bowe assures you, though you both know he won't. He never does. With a smile and a nod, he's gone, leaving you alone again.

Damnit. This bakery was supposed to be a beginning, not an end. You can't let it crumble in your hands.

The sun begins to set as you tally the day's earnings—or lack thereof. Your palms press against your eyes when you realize the sum total barely covers the cost of ingredients. Your shoulders slump as you count and recount, you lose every time.

With a deep sigh, you flick off the lights one by one and climb the narrow staircase to your apartment.

You’ll try again tomorrow.

The morning sun pours through the bakery's front windows. You're lining up croissants in the display case when Mr. Bowe’s kind voice catches your attention.

"Have you heard about the Gingerbread House Contest?"

Your ears perk up, and you lean closer. "No, I haven't. Tell me more."

"Well, every year, Cedar Park holds the contest right in the town square. It's quite the spectacle," he explains. “It draws quite the crowd."

"Sounds fun," you muse.

"Indeed. Last year, the winner's gingerbread house was featured in the newspaper. Gave their little shop a real boost."

You straighten up.

"Maybe I should give it a shot," you say, more to yourself than Mr. Bowe.

“I’d love to see what you come up with.”

You don your apron, your sleeves rolled up to your elbows. The familiar sound of the mixer whirring calms your nervous heart. The bakery smells of ginger, cinnamon, and allspice. For the first time in weeks, you actually feel a glimmer of hope that maybe—just maybe—you’re going to be okay.

Rolling out the first batch of gingerbread, you press shapes into the dough—walls, roofs, and tiny doors.

You've got this. Or so you tell yourself, leaning against the counter with a mug of tea while you watch the oven bake your hopes and dreams.

Your hands are steady as you lay out your tools—offset spatula, rolling pin, and piping bags. You prepare yourself to transform from a baker into an architect.

Or—so you thought—your gingerbread homes begin to resemble earthquake victims, walls crumble and roofs slide. All you can do is laugh in disbelief. You mastered croissants at the age of twelve, you knew how to make macarons before you knew how to drive. How in the hell are you failing at gingerbread houses of all things?

Determined, you eye the next batch in the oven. This time, you’ll double the icing, maybe whisper sweet nothings to the dough, and cross your fingers for good luck.

You barely notice the jingle of the front door bell over the crash of another wall meeting its demise.

"Wow, looks like a gingerbread massacre in here," a sweet voice cuts through your frustration. You glance up from your baked goods ruins and spy Sarah Miller smiling at you, curiosity lighting up her face as she surveys the scene. You straighten up, self-conscious under the gaze of your guest.

"Ah, well, it's not usually this… chaotic," you offer with a sheepish grin, trying to brush off the mess littering your workspace and apron.

Your eyes meet Joel, Sarah’s handsome dad standing just behind her. Your breath catches in your throat, a common occurrence whenever you see him in your shop, standing tall and broad-shouldered, rugged with bronzed skin. His strong jawline is dusted with stubble, his full lips sit under a well-trimmed mustache, and his eyes—a warm dark brown—crinkle at the corners as he takes in the chaos of your kitchen with a slight grin.

He runs a hand through his short, dark hair. You try not to stare at his arms, muscular and tanned. You’re left speechless again by him, your eyes roaming from his work-worn hands to the easy smile playing at the corners of his mouth. He exudes strength and capability—you feel ridiculous in your current predicament—covered in flour and crumbled gingerbread buildings.

"Looks like you could use a hand," he says, his voice is a low rumble that sends a shiver through your body.

"Or maybe a bulldozer," Sarah adds.

"Maybe so," you respond, feeling the tension ease out of your body at their lighthearted banter. “What brings you in today?"

Sarah bounces on her toes, her curls bobbing. "We’re early for my piano lesson next door and I wanted to ask you about helping with my bake sale—" She glances around at your gingerbread graveyard. "Maybe we came to the wrong place?"

You laugh, running your hand across your forehead and wincing when you realize you've just dusted it with flour. "Oh no, I promise I'm usually much more competent. It's just this gingerbread house contest has me all flustered."

Joel's eyebrows raise. "The gingerbread contest? The one being held this weekend? That's a big deal around here."

"Yep. So I've heard," you sigh. "I thought it would be a great way to get some publicity for the bakery, but…" You point helplessly at the crumbled remains of your attempts.

Sarah's eyes light up. "Dad! You could help!" She turns to you, grinning. "My dad's a contractor. He builds real houses. I bet he could help you make an awesome gingerbread house!”

You blink, surprised by Sarah's suggestion. Joel rubs the back of his neck, looking a bit sheepish. "I don't know about that, baby girl. Building gingerbread houses isn't exactly building a home."

But Sarah doesn’t back down. She turns to you, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Dad's being modest. He's amazing at building things! You should see him build LEGO!”

You look around at your kitchen, littered with the remains of your failed attempts.

“I—guess I could use the help,” you shrug, glancing over at Joel.

He hesitates, his eyes darting between you and Sarah, the internal debate playing out on his face. “I suppose I could take a look,” he sighs, a hint of a smile appearing.

“Yes!” Sarah cheers, clapping her hands together.

Relief and excitement rush through you. “Thank you,” you earnestly say. “I promise I’ll repay. Free cupcakes for life?”

He laughs a deep, warm sound. “Let’s see if I can actually help…”

Joel moves closer to inspect your gingerbread casualties, you catch the smell of his cologne—woodsy, like pine and campfires. You try to focus as he examines the graveyard of broken cookie pieces, his brow furrowing in concentration. God, he’s handsome.

"You need to think about load-bearing walls, proper supports—”

“It’s cookie dough, not concrete,” you retort with a smile.

“What if we change the shape?” Joel suggests. “Maybe something less—grand than a gigantic gingerbread mansion.”

You nod, your mind racing with possibilities of gingerbread construction.

“Ooh! I have an idea!” Sarah pipes up with excitement. “What if we made the clock tower in the town square?”

“It’s smaller, we’d need less actual structure pieces, maybe we could rely more on your decorating than building skills then?” Joel says thoughtfully.

“That’s actually… not a bad idea,” you admit, your eyes lighting up as you consider the possibilities. "I could use royal icing to make the details on the clock face," you muse.

Joel nods. "And I can help with trying to make sure it stays upright."

"Team Gingerbread!" Sarah cheers, pumping her fist in the air.

You laugh, feeling warmth spread through your chest for the first time in a quite awhile.

“So, when do we start?” Sarah asks excitedly. “Now?”

“No, baby girl,” Joel says with a chuckle. “We can’t start right now. You have your piano lesson.”

"But Dad," she whines, "this is way more important than piano!"

"How about we start tomorrow?" you suggest, glancing at Joel. "After the bakery closes? That way, I can prepare some fresh gingerbread and we can really get started."

"Sounds like a plan. What time do you close up shop?"

"Seven," you reply, trying to ignore the flutter in your chest at the thought of spending more time with him.

"Perfect," Joel says. "We'll be here."

Sarah bounces on her toes, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Can we bring anything to help?”

“Patience,” you wink.

Joel chuckles, a sound you could get used to hearing.

“Please, pick something out to take with you,” you say gesturing to the display case.

While Joel and Sarah peruse your variety of baked goods, you take the opportunity to steal glances at him. His strong profile, the gentle way he interacts with his daughter, his broad shoulders. You shake your head, trying to escape your reverie over the handsome contractor as you bag up the treats they’ve chosen.

“A chocolate chip cookie for the little lady, and a cinnamon roll for dad,” you say, handing the bag to Sarah.

"See you tomorrow! We're gonna make the best gingerbread tower ever!" Sarah says, as they turn for the door.

“I sure hope so,” you giggle at her enthusiasm.

Joel lingers for a moment at the door, his eyes meeting yours. “See you tomorrow,” his deep voice rumbles through you as he leaves.

The next day, you're up before dawn, determined to perfect your gingerbread recipe. That, and you couldn’t stop thinking about seeing Joel again.

By mid-afternoon, you've settled on the perfect blend - a dough that's sturdy enough for construction.

As closing time nears, your stomach flutters with nerves over seeing Joel again. You're just finishing up filling the piping bags with royal icing when the bell above the door chimes.

"We're here!" Sarah's voice rings out, her curls bouncing as she practically skips into the bakery. Joel follows behind, with a soft smile as he takes in the scene.

"Wow, it smells amazing in here," he says.

You lead them to the workspace. "I've got everything laid out. Shall we get started?"

Sarah claps her hands excitedly. "Let's do this!"

Joel listens intently as you explain the pieces you’ve baked for the clock tower.

"Okay, I think I see how we can make this work," Joel says, reaching for a piece of gingerbread. "We'll start with a solid base, then build up the walls using these larger pieces as supports."

You find yourself mesmerized by Joel’s hands as he begins; strong, capable, yet incredibly gentle as he handles the gingerbread.

You blink out of your focus, remembering you have a job to do—and Joel’s daughter is right next to him.

"I'll start on the decorations," you say, reaching for a piping bag filled with white royal icing.

"What can I do?" Sarah asks looking around at all of the accoutrements needed to build the tower.

You smile at her enthusiasm. "How about you sort these candies by color? We'll need them for the details later."

And just like that, the bakery feels a little less quiet, a little less empty.

As the clock ticks later, the outline of the clock tower begins to take shape.

You catch yourself staring at Joel's strong hands as he carefully places the final support beam for the clock tower. Your eyes trail up his arms, past his broad shoulders to his handsome face—where you’re startled to find him looking right back at you, his brown eyes wide as he stares into yours.

"Earth to bakers!" Sarah's voice cuts through the moment. "Are we done for tonight?"

You shake your head, clearing your thoughts. "Yes, I think that's enough for today. Tomorrow, we finish decorating," you reply, wiping your hands on your apron.

“It looks like it’s going to hold,” Joel nods, stepping back to admire your mutual handiwork before gathering his and Sarah’s things.

“Let’s hope!” Sarah says, carefully leaning in to assess a wall.

"Same time tomorrow?" Joel asks, his hand on the door.

"Wouldn't miss it," you reply, a bit too eagerly.

With one more day to go, you lean over the bakery counter, watching as Joel meticulously positions a candy cane-striped piece atop the gingerbread clock tower, using extra tenderness as he handles the delicate candy.

“Geez Dad, I haven’t seen you handle something so gently since you built that little green alien from that show you like,” Sarah quips, perched on a stool, legs swinging, her curly hair bouncing with energy. “It’s candy, not a thousand piece LEGO set.”

You stifle a laugh as you watch Joel's serious face crack into a reluctant smile.

"If only your smart mouth could decorate," he retorts, his voice low and warm.

Sarah's eyes light up mischievously, a grin spreading across her face. "Oh! I just remembered," she exclaims, hopping down from her stool. "I promised Mr. Bowe I'd help him set up his Christmas window display today. I can't believe I almost forgot!"

You and Joel exchange skeptical glances. "Since when do you help Mr. Bowe with his window?" Joel asks, raising a suspicious eyebrow.

"Since… now?" Sarah replies, already backing towards the door. "It's important to help others, right Dad? You always say that. I'm sure you two can handle the rest of the decorating without me. I think you two make a great team! If you need me, I'll be next door!"

Before either of you can protest, Sarah darts out the door, the bell jingling in her wake.

All of a sudden, the bakery feels much smaller, much more intimate, the air sits thicker between you and Joel.

You clear your throat, reaching for a piping bag filled with white icing. "Well, I guess we should keep going," you say, your voice sounding unnaturally high.

Joel nods, his fingers skimming yours as he takes the piping bag from your hand. A jolt of electricity passes between you at the contact, and you quickly pull away, knocking over a container of sprinkles in your haste.

"Oh, shoot," you mutter, dropping to your knees to clean up the mess. Joel kneels beside you, helping to gather the scattered sprinkles.

You both reach for the same pile, your fingers brushing against each other. This time though, neither of you pulls away.

You look up, meeting Joel's, brown eyes, his intense stare searching your eyes as if he’s trying to read your thoughts.

Time stands still, the smell of cinnamon, ginger, and your bakery dissipates, now all you smell is Joel’s woodsy cologne. Finally, after watching him from afar for months, separated by the bakery display case, always getting to see the small glimpses of him with his daughter and the sensitive heart he keeps buttoned up beneath his flannel shirt, he’s so close. He takes a deep breath, leaning in, closing the distance between you. Joel’s lips meet yours, gentle and tentative at first, until he cups your cheek, and you melt into him, quietly moaning at the first taste of the cinnamon and coffee on his tongue.

Your hands find their way to his broad shoulders, sinking into his warmth, steadying yourself as he wraps his strong arms around your waist and pulls you closer.

When you finally break apart, you’re both breathless. Joel rests his forehead against yours. “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” he whispers.

“Me too,” you admit, feeling heat creep into your cheeks.

“I think my daughter may have had an ulterior motive in leaving us alone,” he chuckles.

You laugh softly. "She's a smart kid."

"Too smart for her own good sometimes," Joel agrees.

"We should probably get back to decorating," you say reluctantly.

Joel nods, standing and offering you his hand and pulling you up.

You stand shoulder to shoulder with Joel at the counter, Joel’s presence now a comforting warmth beside you, as you both reach for a frosted windowpane.

"Here, let me," he says, taking the delicate piece from you. He gently handles the sugar glass with a gentleness you’re now well aware of, and glues it to the clocktower.

“It looks great,” you say, closing the distance between Joel.

Joel’s eyes lock with yours, leaning in, his breath ghosting over your lips. Your chin tilts up, wanting to taste the sweetness of his lips again…

Suddenly, the bell above the door chimes loudly, shattering the moment. The two of you spring apart, both breathing heavily.

"I'm back!" Sarah's cheerful voice rings out. "Mr. Bowe says hi and—" She stops short, her eyes darting between you and her father, a knowing smirk spreading across her face.

Flustered, you take a step back, your elbow accidentally knocking against the edge of the table. The gingerbread clock tower wobbles precariously, and time seems to slow as you watch in horror.

But Joel is already in motion, lunging forward and reaching out to steady the creation. A collective sigh of relief fills the room as the gingerbread clock tower stands unscathed.

"Nice catch," you breathe out.

He offers a humble shrug, but the slight twinkle in his eye tells you he's pleased.

"Oh my god Dad! That was awesome!" Sarah chimes, rushing over to inspect the nearly-catastrophe. “Is it done? It looks amazing!”

“I think it is, except for one more piece,” you say, pulling out two surprise gingerbread cookies.

The first cookie is unmistakably Sarah. Her curly hair is captured by swirls of chocolate icing. Her bright brown eyes are recreated with the help of tiny candy pearl dots. Her wide smile is a perfect arc of white royal icing. You made sure to include her favorite part of green Chuck Taylors and stack of beaded bracelets.

Joel’s cookie is a little simpler, his stubble is recreated with finely crushed Oreos, his short, dark hair made with chocolate icing. He’s even complete with a tiny flannel shirt constructed with red and brown icing.

Two sets of brown eyes widen as they take in the miniature versions of themselves.

“These are incredible,” Joel says softly. “Really.”

“Well, you two are my most frequent customers, and I couldn’t have done all of this without your help,” you admit, smiling at Sarah.

Sarah beams, carefully picking up her cookie-self. "Can we put them on the tower? Like we're looking out the window or something?"

"That's a great idea," you nod, reaching for icing to secure the cookies in place.

As the three of you work together to position the two cookies just right, you feel contentment wash over you.

Just a few days ago, the bakery felt so empty and daunting. But now, as you watch Joel help Sarah put on her jacket before they both take one last look at the completed gingerbread tower, you feel hopeful for the future of the bakery—and the gingerbread competition tomorrow.

You’re tired—you barely slept last night, you yawn as you carefully load the gingerbread tower into your car, praying it survives the short drive to the town square.

The morning air is crisp as you step out of your car, waving at Joel and Sarah as they make their way towards you. Joel has a shy smile, his deep brown eyes lit with something akin to fondness as he approaches you.

“Ready?” he asks with a nod.

“As ready as I can be,” you sigh.

You and Joel carry your collective pride and joy across the town square with the help of Sarah leading the way to the competition area.

"This is it!" she exclaims, waggling her fingers in front of the table like a magician. You swallow nervously when you see the talent of your competitors.

"Wow, look at that castle," Sarah gasps. Joel doesn’t even look over, his focus remaining fixed on your shared creation, his brow furrowed in concentration.

"Ours is better," he states matter-of-factly.

“You’re right,” you agree with a smile.

As the judges make their rounds, you try to calm your nerves as your foot nervously taps against the pavement and you try to catch your breath. Joel seems to sense your anxiety, taking your hand in his and giving it a gentle squeeze. The warmth of his touch steadying you, silencing your self-doubt.

"Hey," he says quietly, giving your hand another reassuring squeeze. "Whatever happens, we did good."

"Thank you," you breathe out.

And then they're before you—the judges—with their scrutinizing eyes and nods of approval. You and Joel still hold hands, both of you not making an attempt to pull away. One of them leans in close, inspecting the intricate icing lattice-work that had taken you hours of painstaking focus.

"Exceptional detail," one judge comments, pointing to the two gingerbread figures of Joel and Sarah at the base of the tower.

"And the structural integrity is impressive," another judge remarks. Now, you squeeze Joel’s hand.

"Thank you," Joel says.

The judges move on. The three of you look at each other, with unspoken hopes of victory. Joel still doesn’t drop your hand.

"And now," the announcer's voice catches the crowd’s attention, "for the winners of this year's Cedar Park Gingerbread House Contest!"

A rush of adrenaline flows through your body as your heart beats against your chest. Sarah grabs your other hand, forming a chain of nervous anticipation.

"Third place goes to The Gingerbread Castle by the Carpenter family!"

You breathe out the breath you’ve been holding. Sarah bounces next to you, Joel stands still and calm next to you.

"Second place is awarded to…" the announcer pauses. "The Gingerbread Ski Lodge by the Padillas!"

Your heart pounds so hard you feel like you’re going to pass out. You try to focus on the soothing feel of Joel’s thumb stroking the back of your hand.

"And now for the grand prize winner of this year's Cedar Park Gingerbread House Contest is… The Gingerbread Clock Tower by Sweet Nothing Bakery!"

Time seems to slow down. The judge's lips move, but you can’t hear them over your heart beating. You only realize what’s happening when Sarah lets out an ear-piercing squeal and Joel's arm wraps around your waist.

Sarah jumps up and down and Joel pulls you close, planting a kiss on your cheek.

You feel like you’re floating as you walk to the stage and accept the grand prize ribbon. The crowd stares at you, cameras taking your victory photos, but all you can do is stare at Joel, a wide smile of support making his eyes disappear behind the crinkles at the sides.

As you step off the stage, you spot Mr. Bowe, who rushes over to you, his eyes twinkling with pride. “I knew you had it in you, my dear,” he says, patting your arm. “This will do wonders for you and your bakery.”

The realization hits you like a wave - you've won. Your bakery is going to be okay. More than okay, even. Tears of relief and joy prick at your eyes.

Joel notices the tears in your eyes as you rejoin him and Sarah at the table. He pulls you in for a hug. “Hey,” he says softly. "You did it. I knew you could."

You bury your face in his chest. "No, we did it," you respond, your voice muffled against the soft flannel of his shirt. "I couldn't have done this without you and Sarah."

When you pull back, you see Sarah beaming at you both, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Does this mean we get free cupcakes for life now?" she asks cheekily.

You laugh, wiping away a stray tear. "Absolutely.”

You weave through the throng of customers, carrying a tray laden with pastries. Gone are the quiet days of just you and your empty bakery. Sweet Nothing Bakery is now the bustling heart of Cedar Park’s downtown business district. Now, instead of quiet contemplation about your’s and your bakery’s future, your business is home to a line stretching out the door and a phone ringing off the hook.

You turn the OPEN sign to CLOSED, now exhausted from being busy all day, no longer overwhelmed from the worries of a failing business.

The jingle of the bell above the door interrupts your focus on counting the profits of the day, you look up and spot a familiar face.

“Long time no see,” you smile.

“It’s been a busy week for me with the holidays coming up,” he says, looking around at the empty display cases. ”Seems like your week was busier.”

He approaches the counter, it’s only been a week since you last saw him, seeing his dark brown eyes again makes you realize how much you’ve really missed him.

"I've been baking non-stop since we won the contest. I can barely keep up with demand."

Joel's lips quirk up in a half-smile. "I noticed the line when I drove by earlier.”

“I can’t thank you enough for all of your help, I couldn’t have done it without you… or Sarah.”

He smiles before cleaning his throat.

"So," he says, a hint of nervousness sounds in his voice. "I was thinking… maybe we could celebrate our victory properly? Maybe you’d like to grab dinner sometime?”

Your heart skips a beat and you can’t stop the wide grin that spreads across your face.

“I’d love that,” you reply. "But what about Sarah?"

Joel chuckles, running a hand through his hair. "Already taken care of. My brother was quite excited to learn that I finally got the nerve up to ask the cute girl from the bakery out. I think Sarah has been filling him in about everything. I think she might have been plotting this.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “She’s tenacious.”

“Tell me about it,” he nods with a grin. “So, that’s a yes?”

“Absolutely,” you respond, hope filling your heart.