#for 20 more minutes about the same damn topic...

[reinerist]

to whomever decided that it was a good idea to have exams be group projects, please kill yourself 

Sincerely, Literally everyone

[dev1lm4n]

lesson two: tease

ko-fi | series masterlist (5 out of 7)

pairing: porn star!joel miller x f!reader

summary: tension is on the rise between you and mr. miller. wicked fantasies hadn't posted for an entire month! desperate, you decided to get even more bold with your requests and he had no difficulty in complying.

word count: 4.8k

warnings: explicit (18+), set in 2013, pre-outbreak, age gap (joel in mid 30's and reader in early 20's), inexperienced but not dumb reader, blowjob, f masturbation, check umbrella warning on series masterlist

notes: tension is literally on the rise! the vase is about to crack, but tonight he decides to indulge. fellas if you enjoyed this do COMMENT, REBLOG or buy me a KO-FI ;) love y'all

Broad shoulders.

During the time when you simply saw Mr. Miller as a figure in your lewd fantasies, you knew that it was the roughness of his build that attracted you. There’s a certain market for it; for women and men alike who enjoyed those who're built like burly vikings straight out of a movie. Those who enjoy men with a slight plumpness on their front, those who salivate over their strong and reliable arms, those who strive to caress their calloused fingers and press kisses onto their rigid knuckles. You’ve never confessed this to anyone - mostly terrified for their reserved judgment over the topic - but you fit perfectly in that box. Time after time, you wonder if it’d feel nice, if you could just press your nifty fingers into the coils of his muscles, if he’d let out a groan.. a moan perhaps from the sensation.

Rough fingers.

After spending two minutes staring intensely at his sturdy, slightly hunched build, you finally gathered enough courage to summon yourself into the kitchen. God, he looked so good just washing the dishes. His already calloused fingers didn’t have to worry about the damage those cheap dish soap does, because if anything, it’d just make it better. More ridges means more texture and more texture feels better. Two of his fingers entered the soapy lining of his mug, spreading the cleaning product into every crack and crevice. It looks a little erotic, you decided. Your filthy mind conjured up altered scenarios which implemented the same motion. You’d be on top of the cold countertop, various kitchen gadgets set aside as his fingers delved into your cunt. He’d spread your wetness the same way he did to the mug.

Thick mustache.

He took notice of your presence. He watched you and you allowed him, even if he did so wordlessly. Water continued to spill out of the faucet. It hit the empty bottom of the sink and sprouted upwards in a gauche manner, effectively wetting his gray shirt in blotches and dots. You breathed out what could pass as a dry chuckle and in return, he quirked his lips. A grin. A youthful one that almost made you forget of his crow’s feet and faint lines. His thin upper lip almost disappeared as it was tugged on both sides, but the dark hair on top remained pristine. It was thick, you concluded. Not as thick as Uncle Tommy’s, but thick enough that he’d get marinara sauce on it every pasta night. Thick enough that you wonder what it’d be like to have it graze your sensitive pelvis.

Fuck, he’s hot and you’re unreasonably horny.

“Hey.”

“Hey, kiddo,” he parroted back, only with the help of that damned nickname he’s stamped onto you.

Crunch

You bit into the red apple you found during your little scavenging trip into his refrigerator. The sound broke whatever trance he had placed you under. With those eyes of yours, pupils rounded and lashes batted, it was a dangerous game you’re playing. When had you gotten so shameless towards Mr. Miller? Perhaps it’s when he touched you in an irrevocably pleasurable way, or perhaps it’s when he hadn’t posted a video for an entire month. He missed his posting schedule, two whole weeks post-’Dirty Fridays’, and it’s severely messing with your head. You’ve always been a good viewer. Always being content with what he had put out and would never harass him for more, but it’s been a long month repeating the same 13 minute long video.

You’re bound to get restless.

“Didn’t see you come home yesterday.”

“I was busy.”

Crunch

With other girls? In that trailer studio of yours? The question sat on the tip of your tongue. A breath away from being exposed into the dense air. You turned to lean your lower back onto the edge of the countertop, eyes still trained on his as you hitched yourself atop the smooth surface. Your fingers grazed the squared edges, just to keep you occupied while you dug under the surface of his browns. You wondered what he was so busy with - wondered what’s going on behind the tightly knitted cloak of guise he wore, wondered what he thought of you after his little lesson. He wasn’t a shy one. Mr. Miller stared back into your pupils. His chest raised and lowered with every blink he took.

You swallowed nervously.

“Workin’ doubles,” he cracked. “I ain’t sharin’ the job with anyone other than Tommy.”

“Is that so?”

“You think I’m lyin’?”

Crunch

You couldn’t read him. You’ve never been able to. There’s just a huge boulder sitting behind those irises, one that’s blocking you from understanding him even further. It’s not like it’s your business anyway. You’re content with spending your downtime with Sarah; screaming your hearts out to Taylor Swift’s I Knew You Were Trouble on the radio, painting each others’ nails, and making the ultimate pancake with chicken. You’re content with just watching him through his videos, reimagining those situations with the new knowledge you’ve acquired from him. You’re content with standing at a distance from him. So, it wouldn’t be logical to get all protective over him. What are you? His crazy ex-girlfriend?

“How’s Sarah?”

“Great,” you mumbled, mouth still half full. “Taught her fractions yesterday. Swear she’s getting smarter than me.”

“How’s Simon?”

Crunch

Things with Simon, surprisingly, went on smoothly. After that mediocre dinner, where you proceed to let Mr. Miller finger you afterwards in order to introduce you to the new world of sex, you’ve exchanged a few messages and a few perfectly appropriate photos. It’s been awhile since you actually put any effort into trying to get into a relationship, due to work loads and a special dependance towards a pornstar, but it’s much better than you expected. He’s a nice boy. He would treat you right if you gave him the chance to, but you couldn’t help but think that you’re doing all this out of spite. Doing this to show off how capable you are to Mr. Miller, to busy yourself off those plaguing thoughts of him.

“Simon’s doing okay. Fine. He took me for ice cream after my classes yesterday.”

“Offered you a ride, right?”

“Yup.”

He taught you well.

“You’ve done it with him then?”

Your heart clenched.

“Done what?”

“What I taught you.”

Why is he so candid about the entire ordeal?

It was like being held at gunpoint. You watched his eyes, then found it to be too oppressive so you looked down to meet his wet hands. He had finished washing all the plates and cutleries from the breakfast you and Sarah made, though his thick fingers still gripped onto the edge of the metal sink, wet and dripping. You looked up once again, trying to find a part of him that doesn’t make you all jittery and awkward.

“Yes.”

Your lie must’ve been undetectable since you quickly caught on to how his brows tangled and unraveled, a habit of his you’ve picked up recently, signaling that he’s processing the information and giving it a good thought.

“Was it as good?”

Crunch

You nodded surely with a mouthful of tangy apple. There’s no way you could get away with lying so blatantly the second time so you decide the nod would affirm your position better instead of scramble it. He cocked his head to the side, arrogant as always, with some sort of interest in his eyes. You could just tell something foul was about to come out of those sharp tongue of his, when all of a sudden, a clatter sounded out from beyond the window. Both of you turned your heads in sync, following after where the presumable source was. There he was. Tommy in all of his youthful glory. One of his jean legs drenched and beside him was a metal bucket, laying pitifully with its contents poured out onto the sidewalk. He was cursing. A garbled mess of English, while he soothed his pained arse.

“Fuckin�� hell.”

He let out a sigh as he finally tore his gaze away from you to wipe his hands onto a kitchen rag.

“Gotta get goin’,” he whispered hurriedly, fingers running down his messy hair to smooth them down. “You need anything, sweetheart?”

You shook your head no and he took it as a cue to leave the premises. He rushed to pick up his phone from the dining room table, eyes fleeting to find his wallet right after.

“Hey, Mr. Miller.”

He turned his head to meet your eyes.

“You busy tonight?”

Dinner had always been a lonesome affair for you.

Back when you still live in your parents’ cluttered mishmash of a house, you’d always opt out of family dinner. Not because you weren’t particularly fond of your mother’s cooking, her one pot recipes will still remain nostalgic in your head despite time, but more because you’d rather not indulge in petty arguments. They’d always argue. Your mother would flash you that look of hers, silently demanding you to stay on her side when it comes to dealing with your father’s frequent misdemeanors. He’d complain about the tiniest bits of things. If the lettuce was too wilted or if you were wearing too much makeup. He’s an ass, sure, but it’s not like your mother’s planning to abandon him anytime soon. They’re conjoined at this point. Even when it’s massively unhealthy, especially for spectators like you.

In Mr. Miller’s home, oftentimes, you’d put together an edible meal for the entire family. Mr. Miller was a hard worker, according to the accounts that he made, so it’s not rare that you’d have to fry up sausages and whip mashed potatoes together for Sarah. It’s not as if he made it your responsibility. He’d encourage the two of you to order take outs or phone in the pizza place, but that couldn’t be good for Sarah’s growth or his own pocket. And as much as you’d like to deny it, you’re growing way too fond of the Millers.

But it’s been far too long since you crossed path with Mr. Miller. Far too long that you might’ve forgotten what his natural musk after a long day smelt like. Far too long that you might’ve forgotten how heavy his boots were as it dragged across the tiles. Far too long that you surely misses him.

You’re nervous.

Unreasonably so when the promise you’ve made with him was simply for dinner. Nothing less or more. Just dinner. Was the invitation you gave him.. too much? Was it too flirty? Was it silly to think that he might’ve entertained the little show you put out? The desperate stares and chewed lips, you��re undeniably begging for attention. Begging for him to pay attention to you, see what you’re made out of, doesn’t he want to unravel you more? The audacity you have was laughable.

How pathetic, you thought. 

Just like clockwork, Mr. Miller showed up right after your self-deprecating cycle. Right after all that flirty and playful energy got brutally murdered by common sense. Right after they were buried in a graveyard of mistakes and what was left was simply the putrid scent of shame. Your head perked up expectantly. As if the mere sight of him in his work uniform,  a combo of worn-out flannel shirts and dark-washed jeans, would cure you of exhaustion. Mr. Miller came barging into the hallway. His thumb and index finger diligently massaged the tall bridge of his nose, eyes closed and nose flared from breathing too hard. Your eyes finally made its rounds to where his free arm was propped up on his waist. Sleeves rolled to where it was physically impossible to roll them higher.

He didn’t look like he was in the best of moods.

And somehow.. somehow it excites you.

“Hi, how are you?” you spoke stiffly as if you’re one of those supermarket cashiers, posture straightening upon his arrival.

“Not good,” he replied gruffly.

Mr. Miller made his way to you. He appeared to be the same height and stature as he’s always been, but for whatever reason, he looked a lot larger. As if he could bite and tear you into chunks of flesh if he truly desired to. His movements were staggered. Each step seemed to be more and more of a hassle to him. He had this.. frown on his face. You could even call it a scowl. Forehead waved with folds of worries, lips tightened into an irritated pull as he finally settled down across from you. This new side to him made your limbs limp and your heart spasm. A squeeze each time his narrowed eyes met yours.

“Everything.. okay?” you mused out.

“Just a bunch of shit piling up,” he reasoned, looking down to meet the plate you carefully crafted for him. “Nothin’ to worry your pretty little head.”

The plate’s cold, boiled asparagus hardened and packaged chicken dried, but he didn’t even consider complaining. His brown eyes took in the effort you gave, a brief sheen of guilt glazing those pretty eyes of his before he picked up his fork and spoon. You watched him with care. His every move calculated and drilled deep into your head.

“Sarah asleep?”

“Mhm. I bored her to death with trigonometry,” you chuckled lightly. “She’s okay. Just.. she’s been asking for you. Asking me why you’re always home late.”

Joel’s eyes perked up from the plate. He met your eyes, but it almost felt like he’s looking right through you, over your head to where he could contemplate his decisions. You knew this just from looking, but Joel Miller had a fear of not being a good parental figure. Sarah only had one and he’s barely ever home. That sort of thought festered over him and took over any sort of inhibition. Any sort of clear thinking, that he’s doing all these side jobs to help support her further in life, that it was all for her. Mr. Miller beats himself up too much, but it’s not like you had any right to intervene. You watched as he indulged in the asparagus, seeing how it’s grown cold enough to feel like metal rods when bitten into. He chewed on it with a solemn expression, a curl between his brows.

“Sorry for putting you through this, sweetheart,” he hummed. “I could.. should actually hire help.”

You waited a beat.

“You’ve been doing me too much favor. It’s not.. right.”

“Don’t need to.”

“Why?”

“Always happy to help.”

“But-”

“It’ll cost you too much for help. You’d be sleeping at your job if that happens.”

He could easily earn up to thousands if he gave into the temptations and started working for a mainstream adult film company. One that’s easily recognized from its corny storylines and cringy high-pitched over-the-top moans. Mr. Miller would be a hit, you’re sure of that. Mainstream porn only requires two things when it comes to male actors: a pretty reasonably-sized cock and charisma. Both in which he had under his belt. If he weren’t so particular with the actresses he chose, the angles in which he filmed, and the routine in which he performed in, perhaps he wouldn’t have to beat himself up to skin and bones. You leaned your cheeks onto the palm of your hands as you watched him devour his dinner.

“I need a favor.”

His fork paused.

“But you- well, you’ll laugh.”

He looked up. The crinkles beside his eyes seemed a lot more prominent, as if he’s thoroughly entertained by your youthful silliness.

“What is it? Somethin’ for Simon is it?”

He’s spot on and it’s making you shrink.

“What?” he chuckled gruffly. “You gonna ask me to teach ya how to blow a guy? Oh.. or how to hang him up in ribbons?”

You looked away, awkwardly scratching your elbow.

“Fuck. I’m spot on, am I? Didn’t take you for a kinky gal.”

“No! God, no,” you looked at him, horrified. “Not the latter.”

“The former then?”

“The former.”

The former. You couldn’t bear to wait for his delayed answer. It’s shameless for you to be asking a second time, but you couldn’t help yourself. You’re pent-up, desperate, and he’s your porn star crush forfuckssake. You stood up from where you’re seated. Your gaze was averted completely, to the point where it’s tilted at an uncomfortable angle to shuffle away from his attention. It’s better to sleep it off. Then maybe you’d act like all this didn’t happen the next day. Sarah’s going to be around for breakfast, so he’d surely keep his mouth in check and draw his way out of this. Wouldn’t he.. would he-

“Hey, hey slow down.”

You felt a hand stop you. His grip was tight, possibly bruising if you were to retaliate any other way. It was still hard to meet his eyes, especially when you had to make the special effort to tilt your head up in order to meet his searing gaze. You waited instead, letting him hinder you of any movements as you stared intensely into his flannel-cladded chest. What was he going to say? Is he going to call you up for your perverseness? Was he-

“I’ll do it.”

“What?”

“I said I’ll do it.”

His voice clambered in the chambers of your heart. Masculine, thick with an inch of Southern bass, he took hold of your other hand with those thick fingers of his. This was different from your first lesson. He looked much more.. impatient. A bit of a rough edge when it comes to handling you, a pretty little thing that’s too brave and forward for your own good. His scent, fragments of wood and a taste of clean laundry, permeated the thick air around you. You inhaled him. All of him for the first time in a very very long week. He released the steel grip he had around your wrists and traced it over the rough outline of your body. Up, up, up, until he reached the span of your shoulder. Your breath hitched. All you could feel in your heart was a repeating desire for himhimhim.

He pushed you down slowly, guiding you to lower yourself before him. Right until your knees hit the freezing linoleum tiles beneath his feet. What were you doing? Is it the right decision to fall back into the same old mistake?

“Have you ever practiced on anything before?” he chuckled, almost demeaning in a sense. “A banana or a hairbrush perhaps?”

You shook your head no. All you could see was his dirty jeans, stained of dry concrete and paint.

He brought his rough fingers down to graze against your chin, tilting it upwards so that you’d face him. His eyes were dark, hooded, and trying its best to conceal its obvious amusement. Your chest heaved up and down. Nervous of what he’s about to do next.

“Let’s practice first, ‘kay, sweetheart?” he muttered.

Mr. Miller brought his other pair of fingers next to your face, cradling it with such reverence. He swiped your lips. Bottom then top, only to delve inside your mouth to wet it with enough lubricant. He’s initiating it. His little routine. The older man brought two of his fingers, his index and middle, before he inserted it slowly into your wet cavity. Slowly. Achingly slow. He made sure that you’re comfortable with just a knuckle deep before he proceeded to push in further until the tips sat at the very beginning of your tongue. It wasn’t a familiar feeling like rubbing your clit. You struggle not to gag, or to whimper at the sheer lewdness of the scene unfolding.

“Ah, what a smart girl,” he mused. “Lay your tongue flat for me.”

Your clammy palms fell helplessly atop your smooth pajama pants, gripping on the cotton everytime it felt like too much. His thick fingers separated to make the girth much larger, preparing you for what’s to come. It’s almost as if you could taste him. Taste the natural scent Mr. Miller has around him at all times, taste the carnal desire he held for this. You knew he wouldn’t openly admit it, but this time, it truly looked like he’s looking forward to ripping your innocence away. All his feigned affection stretched thin as you obeyed him perfectly. Tongue flat on the base of your mouth, you breathed in through your nose as best as you can.

“That boy wouldn’t like it if you’re sharp with your teeth,” he muttered as he pulled his fingers away. A string of saliva connected the tip of his wet fingers to your slacked jaw. Oh, how vulgar. Your tight entrance twitched and throbbed inside your panties. Arousal started to wet the thin material, painting dark circles that contrast with the bright color. You were heaving, panting from the sudden increase of oxygen. “So no teeth, keep your tongue flat, and breathe through your nose.”

“You got that, sweetheart?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, who?”

“Yes, Mr. Miller.”

“Alright. Would you like me to take my pants off or do you wanna try it yourself?”

You looked up at the tempting prospect. He gave you a little nod, affirming that you indeed had the upper hand to the situation. And just like that your hands were quick to get on the perimeter of his belt. You loosened the leather from its metal confines, slowly pulling it away from the hook before leaving it. The leather hung from where his two front loops were located. Meekly, you looked up once more as your soft fingers felt his buttons up. He hissed through his pursed lips, a good reaction you assume, as you slowly unbuttoned the main button. You were confident enough now to tug away at his zippers. Step one was completed, you’ve successfully opened him up like a Christmas present.

But.. what’s next?

“What do I do next?”

“What do you think you do?”

You reached out for the waistband of his briefs, but you were quickly met with a little slap on the back of your hand. Not a hurtful one. Just a little reminder.

“It’s best if you get him worked up first so he’s fully hard when you’re ready,” he whispered. “Why don’t you press some gentle kisses on it?”

You hummed in agreement, before you did as you’re told. Even with the dim lighting of the dining room, you could see clearly where the outline of his cock is. It’s semi-erected, you deduced. You’ve seen him in all his glory to the point where you could calculate how much more he could grow. Gently, you closed the gap between you and those pair of briefs he’s wearing. Your mouth was hot and warm in contrast to the cold air, so when you finally pressed a kiss on top of his clothed shaft, his cock twitched immediately. You could feel it and see it too in certain lighting. Encouraged, you press even more kisses on each and every spot, slowly building up the desire until you reach the leaking tip. You nuzzled your nose close. It smelled like him, salty with a tinge of masculine musk.

This turned you on so much that you inevitably grinded your bottom towards the cold tile. Nothing was there to satiate your throbbing core, just a short term burst of pleasure.

“Shit, sweetie,” he hissed. “I think you’re ready.”

With haste, you quickly tugged on his waistband. You didn’t expect for his length to pop out that quickly, the startled reaction you had was proof of that. He looked.. pretty. Blushed beige with a ruddy tip that's covered. It’s a little silly that that’s the first thing that came to your mind, but it’s the truth. You’d never guess that you could get this up close. Eye level to the cock you’ve been fantasizing about, where you could practically see each and every one of his veins. You didn’t say one word. Instead, you settled on observing the new interest. Your one finger went up curiously to touch the white substance that’s pooling up top. Sticky, you thought. Out of curiosity, you stuck the lone finger down your throat. Salty was the next thought in line.

“Didn’t expect you to taste it,” he chuckled.

You simmered in the sudden embarrassment.

“What’s next? Should I just put it in my mouth?”

“You could.”

“There’s another way?” you peered up curiously.

“Well,” he hummed. You watched as his finger pried your lips open once more, urging you to stick out your wet tongue. “You could make a show out of it. Look me in the eye and lick me slowly.”

You quirked your eyebrows as if unsure if this will work. You’ve never taken yourself as a ‘sexy’ person. Will this even work? To get rid of those plaguing thoughts, you decided to take a leap of faith. You stuck your tongue out more and slowwwwly dragged it along his salty length. You made sure to keep your eyes on his, watching his every micro reaction to decide which one pleased him more. This is supposed to be about Simon! Why are you.. seeking for his validation? On instinct, you pulled the hooded skin back to reveal his furiously red tip. You laughed nervously before you experimentally sucked on it. The wet warmth instantly had him buck up into you, a strained groan following suit. 

“Oh shit,” he cursed. “You’re doing good.”

Getting confident, you decided to suckle on it a little more. It tasted a lot more intense than what you’ve tasted of him, but it wasn’t bad at all.

“You think you could take more, sweetheart?”

You nodded before letting his length infiltrate your mouth even more. The end touched the back of your throat ambitiously before you had to pull back and set yourself onto his sensitive tip once more. It wasn’t as easy as his co-stars are making it seem. There was a rhythm in which you have to master, a balance of push and pull so that you don’t gag at the intrusion. His soft groans were heavenly. You didn’t get to hear much of it the first time around, but now it’s all you could think of. You can’t take it anymore! You just had to touch yourself.

“Shit, you’re a dirty gal, are ya?” he chuckled. “Had to touch yourself to this?”

You cried out a muffled moan. It was all too familiar. The way in which you slipped your hand into your pants, shuffling between the layers of panties to rub at your clit. You were already drenched with need. Strings of arousal webbed between your fingers as you rubbed figure eights all across the sensitive patch of nerves. You’re losing track of the rhythm and Mr. Miller took notice of that. He was kind enough to lead you. His fingers slotted perfectly behind the crown of your head, guiding you in a pace you could tolerate.

“Perfect mouth for little Simon,” he degraded.

Mr. Miller’s large hands continued to move you at a certain pace. The time slot left for you to gather your breath tightened and it’s almost like you could pass out from the lack of oxygen. But it felt too good. He tasted too nice. You’ve got his cock in your mouth and it’s spurting out tangy liquid goodness onto your tongue, what else can you ask for? 

You continued to grind onto the palm of your hand, desperate enough to not think of how shameless you looked. So slick, your fingers let out a lewd pop everytime it dipped inside of you. Usually you weren’t fond of vaginal penetration by yourself, but the thought of having his cock inside of you left you rabid. This was supposed to be about Simon, is it not?

“You wanna know what a real man tastes like?” he mused out lazily.

You nodded desperately. Mr. Miller held your head tight against his pelvis. Your nose grazed against the coarse dark curls he had as he twitched inside of you. You continued to slick the pads of your fingers against yourself. An entire week of masturbation being combined into one as you felt that familiar pressure build in your stomach. A coil waiting to be snapped.

“Sh- shit.”

Mr. Miller broke first. He hunched slightly as he rode his orgasm out. You could see how his legs trembled and his hips bucked himself even further down your throat. 

There it was. The salty trace you tried earlier came in big spurts down your throat, only when you couldn’t fit more did it start seeping out your mouth. It dribbled down the gaps between his softened cock and your aching mouth, stripes of white just trickling down vulgarly. You moaned into his cock, wetting the flimsy material of your panties. A combination of the scent his cock gave to the familiar rubs to your clit had you seeing stars. You knew for a fact that the linoleum tiles would be soaked with your juices when you come up to your feets. 

This isn’t a problem anymore, it’s a catastrophe.

[nerdishpursuits]

What really amuses me (or annoys, depending) is that we always manage to look for more than meets the eye, assuming the show has more depth to it, when in truth it’s lacking in so many ways.

We seem to forget what we’re dealing with here. And what that is? Is a novela, pure and simple. A Spanish one, true. But a novela just the same. And while in the beginning, for the most part, quality prevailed? It’s more and more obvious the show is becoming plagued by the inconsistencies of its genre.

We’ll never have a sensitive topic such as SA treated with the care and empathy it deserves (if anything, it encourages the message that victims are better off if they keep silent; the SA itself and the inherent misogyny? they were just background noise for the now 20+ episodes narrative of a woman suffering the consequences of looking for justice that was legally denied)

We’ll never see Fina’s recovery as it should have been treated.

We’ll never see Marta’s own trauma addressed.

I severely doubt we’ll see them healing together in a way that feels rewarding, empathetic and well thought out. We’ll get hints that they spent the night together, that they talked about their feelings and addressed the problems they’re facing. Hints and more hints. Surface level depictions that don’t really bother going beneath the surface. One of those high-speed trains that seldom stop at any station for more than a few minutes, the scenery a blur at the edge of one’s vision. Expecting more? Well, it might be asking for too much. We either enjoy what we can and as much as we can, or we desist. Plain and simple.

As for more of today’s events?

1. Just like Marta is a grown up, capable of making her own decisions? So is Tasio. For Carmen to lay all the blame at Marta’s feet is ridiculous. As is the show persisting in comparing her to Jesús, who is a de facto muderer and whose violent actions don’t have repercussions + let’s add Don Pedro to the list, whose revenge ended with the murder of the one responsible for his son’s death - I doubt there’ll be consequences as, after all, he’s a man and allowed to get away with it. For Marta though? Pandora’s box and all its blessings. May I just say succumbing to rage and helplessness one time, does not a violent person make, nor does it undo the moral tapestry of Marta’s character (for all the show loves to punish her for it).

But I’m digressing. Tasio is not a saint and to pretend otherwise is laughable (Carmen herself suspected he orchestrated the entire thing to curry favour with his father? I mean. Her trust in him is somewhere below sea level, no need to pretend otherwise. More so, she seems to forget it was Damián who paid for Tasio’s out-of-jail-card: claiming Marta’s family wouldn’t help him is borderline absurd). Marta didn’t force him to do anything, he chose to help her of his own free will. And at the end of the day? Marta never shies away from doing the hard thing: taking accountability. And she does it every single damn time, no matter how hard it is. (let’s see if Tasio ever gets there, fully). And I now find myself needing a scene where Fina defends Marta with Carmen.

2. They found the most contrived way of using Marta’s journal against her - if it is her journal, that is; for all we know it’s Marta’s calculus notebook (Santiago invading their safe space and just so happening to find it laying there? It’s not only supremely absurd but a sacrilege as well, yet another violation of their intimacy). Rather funnily, this show might be trying to preach violence is not the answer yet here we are, ascending to the next level altogether (I personally don’t see any other way to be rid of Santiago - his demise needs to be imminent and it needs to happen). Not to mention how outlandish it is that a nobody is able to get into Fina’s cell, waltz into Marta’s office or walk onto their property like so? This level of absurd is top-tier for sure.

3. The one consistent thing? Marta’s love for Fina and Fina’s love for Marta. That hasn’t changed and it won’t (it’s very much obvious Marta is nothing but irritated with Pelayo and for good reason: that man is like fungus, chemical treatment needed)

Oh well. Since the inane seems to be the way? Let’s join the circus: Santiago is moved to tears upon reading Marta’s journal and gives them his blessing, for Pelayo and Santiago it’s love at first ‘stache and they buy the property next to Marta’s so they can be felices los quatro, Jesús launches a business promoting hair-growth (dar en el calvo) and Eladio writes a book in prison (from SIcario to NOcario).

On the bright side? Flirty and Horny Fina is back tomorrow? Or so it would seem. She’s been dearly missed 😌 Furthermore? For everything that’s not being said, shown or addressed? It’s still a feat Mafin remains the healthiest relationship on the show. No doubt about it!!!

[milesandcorysupermacy]

All jokes, mami

42!Miles Morales x Hothead!Black!Reader

Genre: Angst to fluff

Warnings: First time writing but I think it's pretty good 🤷🏾‍♀️, use of n word, cursing, Miles crying, mentions of trust issues, that's it I think

Word Bank: Hija: daughter Bien: Good Muy Bien: Very Good. Ay Dios mio: oh my God Tia: Aunt

Summary: You're having a great time with Miles, Talking about drama and laughing your ass off! But, when you go in the bathroom you find some press on nails that DAMN sure aint yours, and are WAY too dramatic to be his mom's. What do you do?

You're sitting in Miles' room. 'Neon Guts' by Lil Uzi Vert and Pharell playing in the background. You guys are doing what yall usually do, gossip about things that go on at Visions.

"Nah, that nigga was trippin', ma. In what world is it EVER ok to crease another man's forces? I'm not the issue."

Miles said in his own blissfully ignorant (hilarious) way. Talking about yet, another incident he's had within the past two weeks with the same guy, Bryson. He hates this man with everything in him. You try to get them to stick together since they're 2 of the handful of students that are minorities. But, as I said earlier, he's ignorant.

"Bae, I get that, I do. The forces were clean. Fresh out the box." You say, trailing off. Playing with your faux locs, thinking of what to say next. Trying to tread carefully because you know Bryson is a sensitive topic. He's your ex, and yall are still cool. But, Miles just NEEDS to be throwing blows with him all the time.

"But that doesn't mean you punch him in the face! A simple 'Ay watch where you goin' bro' would've worked perfectly, but now he look like a busted, lightskin, balloon." You say doing a horrible impression of Miles and his suave brooklyn accent.

Miles chuckles at your description of Bryson, deciding to add onto it.

"Nah, he don't look like no balloon. His ass look like a clown. Matter a fact, a whole ass circus, and he the star. That nigga a bitch anyway. He really think he look like Drake?Nah, bro. Yo ass look like French Montana, stop playin'. Like, Drake? Nah nigga more like Brake, because he needa pump the brakes and slow down before Plankton come and steal the secret formula for that big ass forehead! Cartoon looking ass." Miles said breaking you two out into a fit of laughter. Silent laughter. The worst kind of laughter.

The laughter where you two are just rocking back and forth on his bed, slapping each other's arms and legs, wheezing slightly, and barely gasping for air. You two calm down and you think of a joke. You gasp from realization.

"Nah, because why do he for real laugh like Mr. Krabbs?" You say laughing again. Miles starts laughing too. Snorting this time, which only adds to the excitement.

"I love how funny I made you, Mami. I'm rubbing off on you, bien. Muy Bien." Miles says in a slightly creepy way.

"Damn, I can't even get credit for being funny, Morales?" You say pretending to be offended.

"No, it's better like this." He says before giving you a peck on the cheek and putting his hand around your waist.

After like 5 mins of talking about more drama at Visions (with no laughing fits). You and Miles settle down and start cuddling. With 'Good Days' By Sza in the background. You wrap your arms around his back, with your legs on the outside of his. Miles, just laying on his back and wrapping his arms around your waist. (I hope this makes sense 😭) Cuddling in a bear hug kind of position. You guys stayed like this for about an hour, and just as you're about to doze off, unlike Miles who fell asleep 20 minutes ago. You have to pee.

You slip your hands from around his back, and try to subtly move his hands from your waist, but he woke up. Damn, getting to the bathroom is not gonna be easy with his clingy ass.

"Where ya goin', mamas?" Miles mumbles half asleep, with a raspy voice. Your heart flutters from the nickname.

'How tf does he have this affect on me, and he's half asleep?' You thought.

"Baby, I gotta pee. I'll be right back, ok?" You say trying to dumb it down since only half of his brain works at the moment.

"No, you're gonna take too long. Just stay with me, we'll get you a pamper or sum." He says gripping your waist even tighter. You usually would've given up because of how sweet he was being, but you deadass were gonna pee on yourself.

"Miles." You say sternly. He lets your waist go with a dramatic sigh, and you walk into the bathroom.

You do your business, flush the toilet, and walk over to the sink, starting to wash your hands. But- oh, what's this?

You pick up a pack of orange, rhinestone, one inch, press on nails. You don't wear press on nails. Shit, Miles would know because he pays for you to get your nails done. You feel the anger boiling inside of you. Maybe they're his mom's? No, she hates orange. It reminds her of Halloween. "The devil's holiday". You remember that's what she calls it and you start to smirk. No! You're supposed to be mad right now. You finish wiping your hands on a paper towel and throw it away. Grabbing the nails and marching into Miles' room.

You see miles on his phone, he must've been waiting for you to come back. Or texting his other ho-

"Hey, Ma-"

"Whose nails are these?" You say throwing the box at his face.

He groans and inspects the box, tilting his head in confusion. "I dunno, these seem a little too... crazy to be yours, why?" He says completely oblivious.

"Nigga" You chuckle from anger, pacing around the room. "Stop playing dumb. Miles you're not stupid, you've never been stupid. So I know you understand what pisses me off, and one of those things is lying. Imma ask you one more time, Miles Gonzalo Morales. Who's fucking nails are these?" You spat gritting your teeth during the last sentence. Miles shot up out of the bed, knowing what you were getting at. Trying to convince you with all his heart he'd never do that. This poor boy has lost enough, and he's not about to lose you to a pair of ugly ass nails.

"Mami, I promise I don't know who's nails those are, It's wild that you're even accusing me of this right now. You came over every day this week!" Miles expresses, desperately trying to give you enough evidence.

"Yea, and I always come over after school, maybe your hoes have a scheduled time for after I leave. Who is this bitch? Hm, Miles? Is it that Mexican girl on the 2nd floor, she seems like she's our age." You scream at him, sure that Rio had woken up from her post-work nap.

"Mami, I don't love anyone but you, I promise, ok? Even if I did, with all the money I spend on yo shit. You really think I have enough to buy another girl some nails?" He shouts back. Pointing to the Gucci Mini-Purse he got you for Christmas, he had saved up all year to buy it ever since he saw you eyeing it at the mall. But he could have it back now and give it to his other hoe.

"You know what? You can have this back since my only purpose is being a charity case, fuck nigga." You say taking out your keys, phone, headphones, Lip Gloss, and card out of the purse, shoving it in your pockets. Throwing the purse at him.

"Mami, you serious right now? Sit yo hot-headed ass down and listen to me, you actin' crazy!" Miles grimaced realizing what he just said already knowing your reaction.

"CRAZY?!?!?! I WILL SHOW YO ASS CRA-"

"WHAT IS GOING ON IN HERE? Dios mio¡ It sounds like the real housewives in here. Hija, what did he do this time?" Rio asked.

"Mama Rio, who's nails are these?" You ask her. (She gave you permission to call her that after the 6th dinner together, don't worry)

"¡Ay! I was looking for those, they're Miles' Tia's. She came over yesterday, and was showing me them. She took them from Miles' cousin because that little mama is only 12 and does not need those." She said grabbing the nails and walking out the room to call his Tia. Leaving you and Miles in the most awkward silence. You slowly turn around to see Miles standing there. You thought he would have some sassy remark but no. His lip was starting to quiver and you knew what was next. He starts letting tears fall which surprised you.

"Papa, why are you crying?" You say walking over to hug him. Feeling the worst guilt ever.

"I....I thought you we're gonna leave me, Mami. I would *hiccup* never do something like that to you. Honestly if the roles were reversed I'd forgive you. I don't think I can even see my life without you. I'm so sorry." He says.

"Miles..." You whisper.

"It's not your fault I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions. You've done nothing to prove that you're untrustworthy. I have trust issues and that's something I need to work on. Not you. I'm so sorry, baby" You say sitting down on the bed for one of the most needed cuddle sessions yall have ever had. And after a few minutes of comfortable silence, Miles breaks the ice.

"What if I just made my mom cover for me, and I am cheating on you?" He asks with a shit eating grin.

"Miles..." You warn

"All jokes, mami"

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

FIRST FIC! what'd yall think? I'll accept constructive criticism. If you have a request or a way for me to make my writing better, just send a ask!

[perzawa]

BEFORE I LET GO | 2.2K

OCT 5TH: AGE GAP

kinktober masterlist

♡ toji fushiguro x fem! reader

relationships are hard enough when there are no stakes, but it’s even harder when you’re dating your best friend’s father. you never expected things to get more difficult than that, but when you only have 24 hours before you’re on the other side of the world, you can’t help but wonder if such a relationship can even last.

♡ warnings/tags! toji is like early 40’s here and the reader is like early 20’s, toji is megumi’s dad, reader is studying abroad, public sex, sex in the woods lol, unprotected sex, fingering, kinda angsty but not toooo bad

“C’mon, relax.”

Your eyes are still stuck to the car floor, nails lightly scraping your skin as your boyfriend's words kind of wash over you. Tomorrow, you'll be miles away from him for what feels like forever, and it's all you can think about. You try to hold off on the waterworks until you're on the plane or, better yet, not in the same room as Toji, but the reality of being apart hits you hard.

Trying is pointless now, so you give up. You chew your lip as hot tears silently make their way down your cheeks, and you attempt to distract your mind. Your stomach's in knots, your head's pounding from all the stress you've been wrestling with. God, you weren't prepared for this. Breathing feels like a neverending chore, and you’re fucking sick of it. Feels like you’ve been on a rollercoaster and you might vomit any minute now. Just when you're lost in that sensation, Toji's fingers on your thigh draw you back until you’re focused on him.

He stole a glance at your pitiful state and scowled. “You’re gonna make yourself sick. Stop.”

He's shattered, just like you. Despite his efforts to hold it together and keep you grounded, there's something in you that senses he's crumbling on the inside. You nod, letting out a sigh. "I'm sorry. Fuck, I'm sorry," you groan, smacking your palm against your forehead a few times. "I’m just scared. I'm so damn scared, Toji, I don't know what to do."

You remember being so excited when the topic of studying abroad first came to your mind. Having been sheltered most of your life, you figured it was time to get out there and go a little wild once you graduated, but you never expected to fall in love along the way.

Especially not with your best friend’s father.

Right now, you should be with him. Both of you should be smoking in his room and flipping through pictures of you both in middle school, but instead, you’re with his fucking father. It’s almost sick to you how big of a secret you’ve been keeping from your closest companion, but you knew it’d kill him if he ever found out about your relationship—and it’s not like you blamed him either. If you’d been close to someone for this long and you found out she was fucking your father, you know you’d raise hell so this was no difference.

“Tell me what’s on your mind, baby,” he said, cutting the silence with his deep voice. “Just tell me what’s going on up there, pretty girl.” He kept his eyes on the road, steering with one hand while the other stayed solid on your thigh. For as long as you’ve known the man, he’s always been a stoic man who never had an issue with staying calm, but the grip he had on the wheel was a new side of him.

After a while, you spoke with a meek and broken voice. "I just... God, I don't want to leave you. You understand that, right?" You gazed out of the window, watching as Toji navigated through a path in the dark forests of your city. It was the last time you'd be able to visit your spot for a few years. "And Megumi, too. I feel like such a bitch for what I'm doing to him, Toji. I shouldn't... we shouldn't be doing this."

He just stayed silent, pulling into a parking area not too deep in the forest. Once he stopped the car, he breathed out a heavy sigh before hanging his head for a minute to think, retracting his large hand from your thigh. “Fuck, I know. I know how you feel, I do,” Toji started, shutting his eyes tight. “I know because I feel the same. But there’s nothing wrong with you falling in love with someone, is there? Father or not, it shouldn’t matter.”

“Maybe, but you know how this looks for us…” You looked into his dark green eyes, the shining jade pigment sending a wave of relief through your tired body. The vibrant hue held a deep, almost mystical quality, reminiscent of emeralds bathed in sunlight. Flecks of darker green and hints of gold danced within, creating an intricate pattern that seemed to shift with every blink. He’s so fucking beautiful. You couldn’t begin to comprehend just how much you’d miss seeing him every night. How much you’d miss sneaking around and kissing those beautiful scarred lips. There was nothing okay with falling in love with your best friend’s dad, but you couldn’t help it. You never asked for this.

Toji nodded, his gaze focused on you. “I know, but let's not dwell on this anymore,” he murmured, his hand gently squeezing your arm. “Tonight, I just want us to be together peacefully, okay? We can tackle the tough stuff another time.” With that, he left the car, walking over to your size to let you out as well.

Your last night together.

The least you could do was let it be peaceful. The walk to your favorite river was painfully slow, consisting of you trudging behind Toji and dragging your feet almost slothfully. The only light illuminating your path was the soft glow of the moon, making it a little difficult to find your way in the beginning but you soon found yourself standing in front of a steep river. Memories of your first night here with Toji resurfaced, causing a small grin to twitch on your face. It was a night for a lot of firsts. Your first kiss, your first time… it was an easier time.

Everything seemed so simple then.

Toji sat by the river, stretching his legs until his shoes nearly touched the dark, glowing water. He glanced up at you, observing as you settled down beside him, crossing your legs. A soft sigh escaped you as you gazed ahead, tuning in to the gentle flow of the water. You yearned to be like the river—serene, a graceful body of water simply existing peacefully. No struggles or worries, just living.

“Fuck, baby,” Toji finally groaned, playfully bumping his shoulder into yours. “I’m gonna miss you so much. You better call me every day,” he demanded, a small grin stretching on his lips despite the inner turmoil he was still feeling. No matter how lonely he’d be without you, all he wanted was for you to achieve the dream you’d been thinking about for years now. It was time for you to break free from the cocoon your parents had trapped you in and live a little.

“You better not start getting too friendly with other girls,” you teased, narrowing your eyes at him. At that, Toji laughed hard before smashing his lips against your soft ones. He let out a gentle noise, his hand reaching to squeeze your waist before he hesitantly pulled away.

“Doesn’t matter if you’re gone for two years or two decades. You know you’re not gettin’ rid of me that easily.” He clasped your hand, giving it a tight squeeze before pressing it gently to his lips, his rough scar grazing your skin. Regardless of the complexities in your relationship, the thought of living without him was unimaginable. He wasn't just Megumi's father anymore; he belonged to you. The distance of the ocean couldn't alter that.

“Besides,” he continued, pulling you into his lap. “We’ll always have holidays, won’t we? This isn’t over. We aren’t over.” His lips were on you moments after, moving in a slow but messy harmony. Small grunts escaped you both as his tongue forced itself into your mouth, tangling with yours. Strings of saliva began escaping, dripping down your chin and neck - but you didn’t care. You couldn’t. It would be like a million eternities before you were able to feel him against you like this again.

Finally, you pulled away, your bottom lip glossy with his saliva as you panted softly. Tomorrow, you’d be in a place making your way across the ocean for two whole years.

You only had tonight.

“Right here, Toji,” you started, quickly pulling your shirt over your head before you finished explaining. “Need you right now. We don’t have long, so just… just take me now,” you rushed, pressing kisses to his neck and lips.

You lay down on the grass, pushing your skirt up to expose your black panties, body aching for his gentle touch. Toji wasted no time in getting your panties down to your ankles and then to the ground, his thick fingers pressing against your clit. He sighed, dragging the tip of his middle and ring finger through your slick folds, starting from your clit and then down to your entrance.

Slowly, he eased those fingers inside, burying them as deep as he could before pulling them out, witnessing how soaked you were. “I bet she’s gonna miss me the most, huh?” He asked rhetorically before slowly thrusting his slick-coated digits into your heated depths, listening for every moan and whimper you blessed his ears with.

“Yeah… don’t know what I’m gonna do without your tongue or fingers,” you rasped, rolling your hips as he pumped his hand inside, moving down to lick and kiss your sensitive neck. He continues moving against your bumpy walls, his darkened eyes watching you in the moonlight. You were always such a wreck for him and so easily too.

His fingers suddenly curled his fingers upwards, pressing into that spongy spot that you both loved so much. With trembling legs, you began subconsciously attempting to close your thighs but he wouldn’t allow it. It was embarrassing hearing your own soaked pussy being fingered and it was showing too. Your cheeks and body felt even hotter now, making you turn your head away from him. Your back arched off the ground as you began twitching around him, a wave of heat filling your lower abdomen as you began to get closer.

Closer…

“Oh, no,” Toji teased with a chuckle as he quickly retracted his soaked digits, sucking your juices from them without caring about how dirty the action was. “When you cum, I wanna feel it.”

You pouted, perching yourself on your elbows. “Asshole.”

Toji only smirked, unzipping his black jeans slowly before pulling his hardened cock out. He hissed from the feeling of his fingers on his neglected cock, squeezing his length in an attempt to replicate how you’d feel around him. It was almost too much now; The ache between your legs, the tears still threatening to fall from your eyes, and the way your boyfriend felt as he began sliding inside of you

He groaned, bottoming out against your cervix with practiced ease. His cock was throbbing inside of you, making it difficult for you to not cum on the spot. His hands found their way to your hips, his nails sinking into your skin as he began thrusting inside. He dragged his cock against your soaked walls, setting a slow, but deep pace. Embarrassment is clear on your features from the way your body reacts to him so perfectly. Like even your body knows you are his now and forever. He pulled out almost completely before pushing back in, intoxicated by the sounds of your moans. “Oh, baby, fuck,” he whispered with a rough voice as he threw his head back, pounding into your abused cunt even harder. “You feel so fuckin’ good… gonna miss this pussy so much.”

The sound of his hips meeting yours made him twitch inside of you again. “But she’s all mine, right? This cunt,” he rasped, emphasizing his words by pulling out and thrusting into you roughly. “belongs to me. Say it.”

“All yours, Toji. Don’t want anyone else,” you cried out into his neck as his fingers pinched your sensitive clit, dragging a loud moan from the depths of your throat.

“There you go, pretty girl. Give it to me. Show me how much that pretty pussy belongs to me,” he praised, taking your button between his fingers as he stroked it, coaxing an orgasm from you. It wasn’t long before his heavy balls were tight and sensitive, revealing how ready he was to finally pump his seed inside of you.

With a loud moan, you came hard around his cock, your pussy tightening on him so much, you almost pushed him out. His eyebrows furrowed as he focused on his own orgasm, basking in the way you gripped his cock like your pussy couldn’t possibly live without it ‐ like you were fucking made to be fucked by his cock. He thrust inside of you a few more times, his strokes lazy and uncoordinated as he finally spilled his hot, white liquid all over your bumpy walls.

“Making a mess all over my cock,” he growled, burying himself to your hilt before pulling out, denying you the feeling of fullness. He collapsed beside you, both of you panting, sweating messes. There was nothing scarier than losing the one man you truly loved, but if your relationship was meant to be, you knew it’d last. “Such a good girl…”You turned your head to look at his barely visible state with a gentle smile.

Everything would be okay because you were his and he was yours.

[gordon-freeman-phd]

man, i wonder what the emergency handbook for the presumable school system that is in black mesa looks,

like there has to be some sort of school given how far black mesa must be from the nearest school and theres more solid evidence given that eli says he got alyx out of black mesa, And since its been about 20 years after the resonance cascade and alyx is 24, that means that she should wouldve been between 3-4 years old, meaning she wouldve been in preschool, so schools, bare minimum day care, must exist

so back on topic, the emergency situation set up, brcuz ignoring something as catatrophic a the rescas, there are many dangerous things inside black mesa that the school system would have to account for, such as poisonous gasses getting thru the air ducts (and past any of the other fail safes) explosions from whatever materials there are, radiation leakage, acidic liquids potentially reaching the school, air disasters given the actual airport black mesa has, tram system failures, aliens escaping and wrecking havoc, nuclear meltdowns, space rockets falling and hitting the school, the damn breaking and causing water issues or flooding issues, hell if the schools under ground they may even have issues with thr air cycling systems breaking, like so damn many emergency situations tjat i cant even begin to imagine given my lack of knowledge of science related disasters and the specifics of the facility,

so the hand book must be miles thick, and the amount of paperwork parents would have to sign and aknowledge beyond normal schooling stuff to even bring families on site rather than send them off somehwere else,

so in regard to the rescas, the scientists clearly knew of its existance and potential hazards (barring the alien invasion) so what would the teachers know of it, frankly how much can the company really prepare the teachets for since they lilely wouldnt have full clearance on everything in the facility, would they instead have training on how to react but only codes attached to each one rather than actual knowledge of the threat itself (this is likely imo) so in thr case of the rescas, something that seems somewhat less classified, i imagine a "simple" evacuation procedure would occur, get to an evac point, wait for air lifts or some kind of large transport vehicle to move the kids, how many faculty would be required to stay behind incase of a missing unaccounted for headcount to search? would security guards do that or just be support, would a fire fight team also be there since the rescas seems to involve a lot of fires and explosions? but looking at the rescas as we know it happens, would the teachers have last minute changes to their regular evac points given the fact that the hecu would be involved in this contingency and they need to kill everyone so having the kids and teachers all in oen place would be conveinant, or would the regular evac point be fine they just wouldnt send evac teams, how would they account for parents wanting to take thwir kids themselves incase of a facility wide evc order? do parents know where the evac point is?

and also on the topic of the wide variety of emergencies teachers would have to be prepped for, how do they drill for all of these? particularly the non evac ones since that wohld be able to cover many situations, i imagine not every situation can be covered by the same thing if its non evac, or would they just balnket evac for everything just to be safe but instead the evac points in practice would just change depending, (frankly why wasnt there a contingency plan in place for a rescas in the first llace if it was such a high list concern with the type of equipment secC is working with, seems like an issue, or is all their contingencies relying on communication so heavily that since it went down they couldnt follow procedure, this seems possible given elis line about the lack of comms)

many such questions

[starsomens]

miss girl, i’m back 🦦 since the demand on noah being a pleasure dom is high and i am, in fact, delulu ✨ and i do believe we share one brain cell, you and i.

loved your thoughts on the topic, i’d like to add a few more things, if i may.

man loves edging. there, i said it. he will edge the shit out of you. you wanna cum? just after 20 minutes of teasing? nah-ah. you will be edged an hour before the show and he will go up on that stage knowing that he’s made that pussy throb and he will give out signs throughout the whole show. he’ll tease the hell out of you from that stage. growling and looking down at the cameras like he’s satan reincarnated himself. he will bask in the glory of those red lights knowing damn well that once he gets off that stage he’ll find you crying, beginning, gagging, throwing up in his dressing room. pleading for just one touch before he gets in the shower. man’s a menace and he’s well aware of that. you want two fingers? you get one for being a bratty slut. and for no longer than 30 seconds.

oh yeah, i’m very positive he likes to call you degrading names as well. princess? yes, you will get the princess treatment. baby? yes, he will baby the fuck out of you. but are you also his little needy, greedy whore? yes, you are. does he just LOVE seeing you cry from overstimulation? he thrives in it.

“look up, slut, you don’t get to be shy about this. you brought this upon yourself”

now he may also give you a slap across the face or two, depending on how high he’s feeling after the show. you wanna act up and be a little brat in front of everyone? he’s gonna gently place his hand on the back of your neck and guide you through the crew. firm and steady. not enough pressure to make you cry out, but just enough to hear you gulp and gag on your own saliva. then once you’re all alone he’ll make sure he puts that whiny mouth of yours to good use.

idk how else to explain it but i just know he likes degrading. he likes to be the one to do it. he’ll call you pet names, he might tie you up, he knows his around ropes and cord ties, he’s had to use plenty with all that gear on tour.

also can we talk about the height difference between him and his partner? ugh. doesn’t matter how tall you are, man’s a whooping 6’3. he’s huge. my next fav topic is “manhandling” but i feel like i’ve said too much, so i better stop.

🦦 signing off for now (but i can come back if you want me to 😌)

MISS- GIRL- I-

ANON!

GIRL I AM- MY - MY JAW ITS BEEN SNATCHED

NOw while I agree with you I was in the middle of reading articles for classes and this justb caught me off guard but MAAM I_ I have so much to say but also no words. WHAT! But yes I also agree we do share the same braincell we are the same

you are me and i am you.

LIKE I KNOW whenever he's walking on stage and looks off stage its AT YOU DIRECTLY. I have nothing to add cuz this was *chefs kiss*

[thezombieprostitute]

Sparks Fly - Part 6

Summary: After working as an engineer for Wilford & Gilliam Trust for several years you find evidence of seedy dealings and burned books. After turning in the evidence you find yourself in danger and seek help. You're taken into the protection of a mob family where you run into your high school best friend, Mace.

Word Count: ~2k

Warnings: Courtroom stress. Implied violence and murder. Please let me know if I missed any.

Part 5 -- Epilogue

Series Masterlist

During the recess Mace left the courtroom to get some sustenance. He needed something since his nerves had already eaten through his breakfast. He wasn’t allowed to check in on you. No contact with you or the people looking out for you to make sure there was no connection that might be used against your testimony. And it was killing him. 

He hit up the nearest vending machine. Not exactly the best option but he didn’t want to stray too far. He kept his eyes moving to his periphery as he watched the candy bar drop. Franco the Younger arriving at the courtroom? Franco the Elder was likely nearby. He knows the security guys are going to be on the alert as well. Maybe they’d already found him and took care of him. Maybe the brothers had both hightailed it. Maybe they were hiding, waiting for an opportunity. There were just too many ‘maybes’ and he needed to calm the hell down. 

He turns and tears into the candy bar, hoping the sugar doesn’t make things worse. He looks around and sees Nick coming out of a door labeled ‘Authorized Personnel Only’. Mace makes sure to not look directly at him or draw attention to him in any way but he felt reassured that Nick had done something about at least one of the Francos. 

As stressed as he was, he couldn’t imagine how draining this was for you. Having to deal with the barrage of questions, all of the attention focused on you. But damn you were doing an amazing job. He hadn’t had the education and experience you had but he was still able to follow along with your testimony really easily. He hoped that translated to being understandable to the judge and jury. 

He hurried back into the courtroom, not wanting to be late for your return. He checked his phone and saw a note from Teach saying she thinks she’s found a job for you but has to discuss the details to make sure it’s a fit. Mace smiles, hope alighting in his chest. He just got you back, finally got to confess his feelings, and there’s a chance he won’t lose you again!

As the trial resumed he hoped you’d be able to see his smile and know that something good was happening.

You wolf down the proffered food and drink. You haven’t had this kind of intense questioning since your Doctorate defense. And that was with people who spoke at your level on these topics! You didn’t have to pull double duty and think of, not just the answer, but how to put the answer in a more generally accessible wording. You’re extra grateful for Scott’s help on that front. 

As he’s going through his phone you can see some worry lines form on his brow. You want to ask, but at the same time you’re scared to. If something bad has or will happen, you don’t know that you want to put your tired brain to work trying to process that on top of everything else. It’s scary enough having to give your testimony. Having everyone looking at you. Knowing your every word is being scrutinized. 

Scott snaps his fingers in front of your face, startling you out of your panic spiral. “You okay there,” he asks. “Do you need anything?”

“Sorry,” you shake your head. “Just…just started spiraling.”

“For what it’s worth you’re doing an amazing job. I’m nowhere near smart enough for all the technical stuff and even I can follow what you’re saying.”

You smile appreciatively, “how much longer do we have?”

“We’ve got another 20 minutes if you want to stretch your legs or something.”

“More like pacing around the room,” you softly chuckle. They were keeping you in a small, windowless room. The only thing you liked about it was the private bathroom making sure you wouldn’t have to leave Scott’s protection for the public ones. 

“Yeah, I know,” he nods. “I’m a pretty active guy so this kind of thing is stifling to me, too. But it is necessary.”

“For my protection,” you concede. “Are there any chocolate chip cookies? I could use some comfort sweets.”

“Of course,” he pulls his phone out again. “I’ll have someone bring a few right now.”

“Thank you,” you say. It’s not as much comfort as being able to be with Mace would provide, but it’s something.

Mace spends the rest of the recess answering questions from his employees and renewing his thanks for them covering for him during the “family emergency”. He’d been so invested in the time spent with you he’d pretty much forgotten about work. That was unheard of since he started working for The Family. Mace chuckled at that thought. He’d been on Curtis to make schedules more consistent so everyone could have planned downtime and then he never actually used his time off. He’d just spend it on-call for the apartments he managed. From what you’d told him your life was pretty similar. Just with a big corporation instead of apartments and mafia intel gathering. Maybe this was a chance for the both of you. 

As he’s getting lost in the thought of waking up to you every morning he’s startled out of his daydreaming by the sounds of the trial getting back on. He makes sure to keep a smile on his face. It’s easy to do when he sees you and thinks about getting to spend his time off cuddled up with you. Thinking about getting to hear your laugh every day. Getting to feel your touch. Just getting to be with you without the fear of something or someone taking it away. 

You begin answering questions again and Mace spots Nick in his periphery. He’s not sure if that’s a good or bad sign. Is there another hitman here in the crowd? Is Nick just making sure there isn’t someone else? He can’t think about that now. He’s gotta focus on you, reassuring you with a smile if and when you need it. When Nick walks out he does find he can relax a bit more.

When your testimony is over Mace makes a beeline for his truck. On his way out he recognizes Hal in a repairman getup, flirting his way past the front desk. Nick must’ve taken out the younger Franco. Mace feels like he should be helping but he’s been ordered to take care of you first and foremost. You’re his mission.

In the safety of the apartment you let yourself collapse onto the couch. You are beyond exhausted. Mace sits next to you and pulls you in, snuggling you, gently kissing the top of your head, repeatedly telling you what an amazing job you did. You let yourself enjoy the sound of his voice, the feel of his arms holding you tight, the gentleness of his kisses. No concerns, no stress, for just a moment. 

“Have you heard anything from Teach,” you ask.

“She texted me earlier today saying she might have something.”

“Did she tell you what?”

“No, she still needs to meet with you and make sure it’s a good fit.”

“The sooner we can meet with her the better. As nice and safe as this apartment is, I know I can’t stay here forever.”

“I’ll ask her when she can stop by,” he kisses the top of your head again. His stomach growls loudly and he blushes, “in the meantime, maybe I should cook up some dinner.” You giggle and let him get to the kitchen. 

That night you ask him to sleep in your bed. No sex, you just need to be held. He’s happy to acquiesce.

You’re the first to wake up and the sight of Mace in bed with you makes you feel instantly safe. Remembering that you’re supposed to meet with Teach this morning you check the time. 

“Oh, shit,” you exclaim. “AC, wake up! AC, Mace! We slept in!” You start pushing on him and he grumbles awake. 

When the words register his eyes snap open, “what time is it?”

“We’ve got about 20 minutes before she’s supposed to be here,” you jump out of bed and go to change. 

“Shit,” Mace hisses and follows suit. 

You’re both scrambling to change out of your pajamas while also trying to sneak looks at each other. Mace’s build is so much more muscular than you were expecting. The strong arms were one thing but seeing how thick and firm his entire body seems to have become has you stifling a groan. 

Mace grabs his phone and sees the text from Teach that she and Curtis are almost there and they’re bringing breakfast. He lets out a sigh, thankful that he at least doesn’t have to worry about food. He’s catching glimpses of you getting dressed and has to keep himself in check. If he didn’t have to worry about timing he’d have already smacked your gorgeous ass and pinned you to the bed. 

The two of you manage to get dressed and brush your teeth just as Mace receives the text that Teach and Curtis are here, confirmed by the knock at the door. 

When everyone is settled in and eating, Teach tells you what she’s found. “It’s not a high paying job and it’s definitely not high profile like you’re used to, but the free clinics the Family sponsors, need someone to maintain their medical equipment. You’d be reporting directly to Dr. Chris Beck, the Family’s primary physician and the man in charge of keeping the clinics running smoothly. I’m pretty sure you’ll be asked to help with other daily operations, nothing that would violate HIPAA nor anything that would require an actual medical degree, nursing or otherwise.”

You nod as you eat. She’s not wrong that it would be quite the pay cut but she promises that, not only would you, unofficially, be on the Family’s payroll, but that there would be a lot of benefits. You also appreciated that you’d still be allowed, if not encouraged, to continue pursuing your engineering interests. Patents could be negotiated as they came up but those, and any papers you wrote, would all have your name on them. 

While you’re going over those details, Curtis and Mace are talking about their work. Mace has to get back to managing and intel gathering within a few days. Especially since it turns out Franco the Elder is on a bit of a rampage. The Wilford & Gilliam company is looking at major fines and payments to families hurt by their products so they’re tightening the grip on their resources. The elder Franco is going out and causing fear in their territory, reminding their people who is in charge. It’s a prime situation for a coup and the Family needs to keep all of their eyes and ears at work with this. 

By the time Teach and Curtis head out you’ve signed all of the required paperwork to start your new job. Hell, your new life. Looking over your things you realize, “I’m definitely not going to be able to keep my apartment. I wonder if there’s a studio near one of the clinics.”

“You could always move in with me,” Mace offers. “It’s only a one-bedroom but I can sleep on the couch.”

“Why would you sleep on the couch if it’s your apartment?”

“Because I’m a gentleman like that,” he retorts with a smile.

“Or, we could share the bed,” you tease. “Like last night. But maybe with a little less clothing. Or are you too much of a gentleman for that?”

In a blink Mace has you pinned with your back against the wall, his mouth on yours, his hands roaming and squeezing. You can’t help but moan into his mouth as you wrap your arms around his neck, urging him not to stop. 

He chuckles at your whine when he pulls away to catch his breath, “don’t worry, DC. I’ll make sure the sparks fly with every kiss.”

Part 5 -- Epilogue

Series Masterlist

Tagging:

@alicedopey

@chibijusstuff

@icefrozendeadlyqueen

@jamneuromain

@jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory

@rebekahdawkins

@texmexdarling

Please let me know if you'd like to be tagged.

[fizzywashere87]

hsjwjdjjw HIM brainrot 💖💖

—————

cont. 19th october (timeskip):

classes ended soon enough, and all of us walked down the stairs to the ground floor.

we stood outside the building, talking and laughing, like always, as we waited for each of them to get picked up by their parents, because they lived farther away.

[h] (our other friend who lives closer) split ways from us soon, as we began walking home.

[s] always drops me home before walking to his house, because he lives close. as we were walking to my house, one of the guys from our school, [m], who my friends thought liked me, was also behind us. he lived in the same apartment as I did, and went to the same prep school too.

he was always kind of weird, though, and definitely did not understand the concept personal space whatsoever. and I did not like him at all.

[s] knew this, and thought [m] was creepy too. so, once we had decided to fake date in front of [m], so he’d leave me alone. but we hadn’t seen him until today.

[s] held my hand suddenly, and kept swinging it.

“you’re gonna break my ball and socket joint!” I yelled, as he swung our arms in circles.

“oh, smartypants! stop studying so much,” he complained at my use of ‘ball and socket joint’ instead of just ‘shoulder’.

[m] caught up with us in a while, and [s] whispered to me, smiling, “he probably saw all that.”

I hope he did.

[m] got into the elevator, and waited for me.

“oh, she’ll come later, you can go. good night,” [s] smiled, and [m] nodded quietly, letting the automatic door close.

as soon as [m] left, we started laughing.

the next elevator was taking too long to come down, so we decided to walk up eight floors to my house.

such a bad idea.

“I should never have stopped going for athletics classes,” I whined.

“how are you already tired? we’re literally still at the 3rd floor!” he laughed.

“shut up!”

he pulled our hands together, lacing his fingers through mine. “you don’t even know how to hold hands,” he rolled his eyes.

“excuse me, I hold hands with [a] (my classmate and girl bsf at school) everyday,” I said. he rolled his eyes again.

“you know that prank? one day i’d propose to you, and you’d think it was a joke, but i’d be serious? and then you’d say ‘yes’ and we’d end up being legally married?” he said, laughing.

“OH! that’s literally the plot of a book I saw on instagram!” I said, and explained a book plot to him.

the whole time our fingers were interlaced, I almost forgot about it.

we reached the eighth floor, and I said, “you should come say hi to my mum. she hasn’t seen you in two weeks. it’s the weekend anyway, come on. you’ll need my parents’ blessings if you wanna get married to me anyway,” I smirked.

“oh, i’m coming, fine, but don’t worry. I already have their blessings,” he smirked back at me. I mumbled a ‘whatever’ and rang my door bell.

the next 20 minutes were spent in conversation between my parents and him about how studies were going, and slowly the topic of the conversation shifted to the latest movies being released.

I could get used to this sight forever, I thought.

—————

(more coming later!!)

gah damn why is she writing this with fanfic terms

LMAO

STOP NOT THE FAKE DAYING

You make me so mad now how can u he like this with him and refuse to confess i hate you

OMGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG UR ALREADY TALKING ABT MARRIAGE

[blueesnow]

Also I just listened to the latest episode from Utapri FM Radio and.... h-huh...??? D-Did they really bring up the topic of Ai's Mune no Kodou's lyrics on the 2nd chorus huhh???? 😭

asdfghjkl big thanks to my fellow aiharu oshi comrade... 色彩さん、本当にありがとうございます！！！(;´༎ຶД༎ຶ`)

In case you didn't know welp for this part around mune no kodou's lyrics...

そして歌うんだ　光の海で 七色の草原で君へと 「愛」強く…　春風よりも柔く美しく

You can find both 七海春歌 and 美風愛(あい) names in it!!! (Well Ai's is more like a play word on his name but then again haruchan did say that the meaning of his name is 愛 so... lol)

I only realized this until after hearing the 七色 part and was like, "...wait a minute" lol and ever since then i've become an even more delusional aiharu oshi when did i ever not anyway lol

And then I see there's actually a lot of ppl bringing this up on the jp fandom, especially between aiharu oshis, and it just made me so happy knowing that I'm not the only one noticed it (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)

So seeing that this got brought up on the radio and listening to terashii's comment....

「七海春歌っっていう存在をとても大事にしている歌ってもあって、それがすごく素敵ですよね」

TERASHIIII YOU'RE TRYING TO KILL ME!!!! 😭But yes.... yes he did 🥹

Like the song is already emotional enough as it is, but this little fact make this even much more エモいいいい + if you reverse the intro of the song you could also hear something like piano sounds in it too... like, here let me show you (the first half is the normal one, while the latter is the reverse one)

I remember someone said that the intro felt like Ai's trying to rewind time bcus he's afraid to what will come in the future and damn... (┬┬﹏┬┬)

Welp at least now he's not afraid of it anymore!! (based on his asas route + flake heart's lyrics)

Also talking about putting names in the lyrics, he also did the same thing for Innocent Wind around this part

風はいつも無垢に　美しい季節を運び 切なさを拭って　藍色の空　連れて行くから

and the mention of 藍色の空 is really エモいい especially if you played his asas route, it connected with his name's origin ;;;w;;;

Aiharu oshis really be eating good that day... Winter Blossom MV and the radio... 本当にご馳走様でした！！！

If you guys have time, please try and listen to the radio here!! It's free until 20 Sept!! (after that you need to paid membership to listen to it) Terashii also talked about Nacchan's Moon Rain and Cecil's Jounetsu no Dejavu Kiss too!

[rebeltombraider]

She's Your Daughter

Damn these plot bunnies swarming me lately... here's another one-shot, but via World of Warcraft instead (these things are kind of addicting to write when main stories are being writer's blocked, tbh... XD)

Rating: T

Warnings: Family Fluff (they deserve it), Cuteness, Sass-vanas, Jaina likes to act as if her mischievous tendencies don't exist. Her Wife and Sister-in-Laws know better.

Background: 5 years after Sylvanas' return from the Shadowlands and her ever going journey of gathering searching for her place on Azeroth once more, she ends up making the start of a peace between herself and her sisters. 2 years after that, she and Jaina Proudmoore reintroduce themselves to the other under Vereesa's watchful eye. Neither knew Vereesa was playing matchmaker until the woman's smug attitude when the two announced they were courting each other. Twenty years later, little Areiel Proudmoore-Windrunner, now an eight year old half elf (half elves aging doesn't slow till close to there 20's here) has made some amusing topics arise. Oh, and Jaina hasn't aged since the bombing of Theramore, because I said so <3.

Description: Just who is the one responsible for their child's more eyebrow raising instincts when it comes to skirting the rules?

The only person currently within the home heard the large runed ornate door to the rebuilt Windrunner Spire swing open to let in sounds of her daughter debating with her wife, interrupting her entertaining a welcomed surprise guest that had arrived mere minutes ago.

"But no one said I couldn't go out the window! The punishment was that I couldn't go out any of the doors!"

"... I knew I shouldn't have trusted your Nana with teaching you things without supervision."

Slung over her wife's shoulder, Sylvanas smirked when she saw her own mischievous smile on their daughter's face to fit the teasing drawl the little miscreant picked up as well, "Taught me? No... she just told me stories about your own adventures when you were supposed to be grounded, Mom."

Even after twenty years together, Jaina's soft blush never ceased to tug on her own sluggish heart's strings.

"I suppose it was only when, not if, my own Mother would betray me like this." Jaina sighed deeply in exaggeration, "Besides, your Minn'da probably had many escapes from Windrunner Spire, so how could it be my blood that encourages you? You already sass me much like she does."

Vereesa laughed from her seat on the chair next to the couch Sylvanas lounged in, "Oh please. Lady Moon here would just stroll right out the front door in plain view without a care."

"Yes... I'm afraid climbing out of windows from ridiculously high places remains your forte, Wife."

Jaina raised an eyebrow at Sylvanas' sass, "Of course, I forgot that you waited until our relationship to do the same. My apologies."

"Only your window at the Keep, and only because your Mother has terrifying accuracy that hasn't lessened with age. It makes me wonder if that is why your Keep has such long hallways. Far more open for shots at fleeing targets that cannot find cover."

Areiel's sudden wiggling cut off Jaina's retort, and the woman let out a sudden gasp of surprise when the child went limp just to push off Jaina's shoulders to slip from her grip... right into an arriving Alleria's arms.

"Come on then, Little Star. The sun has since finished its descent, and it is time for rest." True to form, Alleria hoisted Areiel under her right arm and walked off towards the main staircase that would lead to the family bedrooms with no hesitation, "It is my turn to tell you a story before bed. You may continue raising chaos tomorrow."

The two's voices echoed lightly back and forth, slowly growing quieter as Alleria carried Areiel up to bed. Sylvanas smirked at Vereesa and counted down on one hand, grinning mercilessly towards Jaina as her last finger lowered in perfect sync with a rush of frost magic in the air followed swiftly by Alleria's firm voice warning Areiel to dispel the ice holding Alleria's feet to the floor.

Completely unrepentant in the face of her Wife's exasperation and ignoring Vereesa's laughter, Sylvanas drawled teasingly, knowing Jaina was secretly pleased that their daughter was just as much like her as she was like Sylvanas.

"She's your daughter."

[defilerwyrm]

Sorry if you've answered this already but could you tell me a little bit about orgasms with phalloplasty? I'm ftm and have been looking into and doing research on this every once in a while for years. If you're not comfortable with that, could you point me towards some literature about that topic specifically if you're aware of any?

I’ll do both of these at once since they’re very similar!

There are two major factors at play: testosterone and phallo. Gonna pop this under a cut ‘cause this is gonna be very NSFW and very TMI.

I started testosterone cypionate in 2017 after a dud year on T cream. Prior to that, it frequently took me around 45 minutes to get off, if I could at all; sometimes I’d just get too tired, sore, and frustrated to continue. Even then, I’d go as many as five times a day trying to get some degree of satisfaction out of it. After a few months on T (the cypionate variety), that dropped to a pretty reliable 12-15 minutes. So that was most of the heavy lifting done there.

It varied by method, still. Front hole penetration made orgasm harder to achieve; anal penetration made it a LOT easier. But even if it took 30 minutes of prep and 20 minutes to get there, my orgasms were stronger and more satisfying.

After bottom surgery, my libido came back after about a month, but I was still too sore to do anything about it. At one point I got too worked up not to try something, so I used a dildo in the shower, and came like a truck hit me as soon as the damn thing was in. My dick felt like it should’a been glowing there was so much sensation there all at once. Nearly fell over. It was great. It also was a lot briefer than pre-phallo, but frankly with that intensity I did not mind.

About two months post-op I was finally healed up enough to get myself off with penile stimulation, and for a magnificent ~8 months or so I could get off in three minutes flat. They were very similar to how that one in the shower had felt: very bright and vibrant and sudden, with super intense sensation all through my dick and whatever remains of my Skene’s glands (“female” prostate); they took a while to come down from; and one was enough.

Tragically, over time the necessary duration increased back to that 12-15 minutes, but the intensity and satisfaction with just one is still there. Right now I’m on an SSRI that makes it harder to orgasm again but sure as shit doesn’t keep me from getting horned up, but frankly it’s not doing me any good to balance that out so I’m tapering off it.

Same deal with anal penetration. It’s not instant anymore, but it still gets me there PDQ. With those orgasms, if I’m coming just from penetration alone, I feel it more internally than in my dick, but that’s why we have two hands.

Mind you, I don’t know how much of all this is psychosomatic, and bodies vary wildly; this is just one man’s experience.

Dick shaving: carefully, with light pressure, and using a high-quality safety razor designed to flex.

[j-onedrabbles]

𝒎𝒚 𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆 𝒂𝒅𝒅𝒊𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒄𝒉 𝒔𝒊𝒙: 20 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒖𝒕𝒆𝒔 cw: cursing wc: 0.8k

Y/n quickly dug through her closet to find something to wear. She didn’t plan on going out so she didn’t bother getting out of her pajamas this morning. Now she was going on a date? Utter panic.

“Pick up your goddamn phone Jisung,” Y/n muttered as she searched through her shirts.

“What do you want?” Jisung finally picked up his phone

“What do I wear?” She asked as she looked over at her phone she had propped up against near her closet while the video call rang.

“Y/n, baby, he’s not gonna care what you wear.”

“I was dressed damn near like a whore last night. I don’t wanna show up in sweats.”

“He’s already seen you at your sexist. Go with your comfiest. If he doesn’t like it, I’ll fight him.”

“I feel like I was better off calling Jinnie.”

“Rude! Minho’s one of my best friends, I know him best!”

“Then what do I wear?!”

“Something comfy and cute! It’s just coffee!”

“I know but still!”

“Don’t make me go to your place.”

“You don’t want to get out of bed and you know it.”

“You know me so well.”

Y/n grabbed a few items and showed them to her friend. Ultimately it was decided on jeans and an oversized T-shirt and sweater. Y/n slipped on a pair of sneakers as she grabbed her wallet and keys and made her way down the coffee shop, only hanging up with the changling when she got to the door.

Minho was standing in line and turned when he heard the door. He offered her a smile as she walked in and saw him. Y/n joined him in line, offering the same smile.

“Waiting long?” She asked as she stood next to him

“No. Got here a couple of minutes ago,” Minho shrugged, “How’s your morning been?”

“Quiet. Kind of planned to have a lazy day before this so I rushed to get ready,” Y/n laughed

“You're not doing anything over the break?”

“Not really. I have some work for courses I need to do but other than that I don't have much.”

The two followed the line as the next person stepped up to order. “No work?”

“I kinda quit my job so I'm looking for another one. I'm living off my savings at the moment.”

“Can I ask why?”

“After we get our drinks I’ll tell ya,” Y/n said as they stepped up to the register.

The two ordered their drinks before going and getting a seat at a table, “you didn't have to pay for mine,” Y/n commented

“I asked you out, I pay,” Minho replied, “back to what you were saying.”

“What were we talking about before?”

“Why you left your job,” Minho reminded her, thinking it was kind of cute that she had forgotten their previous topic.

“Oh yeah! It was a toxic work environment and I just didn't feel fully comfortable there,” Y/n explained

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It’s okay. My boss was this older lady who made it worse. It's the small boutique up the street and she never really like me because of me being a Fae and coworkers made it worse.”

“But she knew you were a Fae when she hired you?”

“No. She was out of town when I got hired. Her daughter was super nice to me. When the boss came back the dynamic shifted, so I left.”

“Is it hard finding a job as a siren?”

“Sometimes? It really depends. Small businesses usually will take any employee they can get in my experience so they don't care if you are human or fae. Corporates are a hit or miss.”

“Sounds kinda rough,” Minho sighed as one of the workers brought over their drinks. The two thanked them as they left.

“It's a little stressful. I'm just using this break to relax and hang out with my friends.”

“Are you going to any more parties?”

“Probably, I don't know. I just tag along with the guys. After the last one, I think we're all up in the air about frat parties.”

“Jisung told me about the rumor and why the guys left early.”

“Surprised you are only now hearing it,” Y/n chuckled as she sipped her drink

“I don't pay attention to the gossip. Seungmin likes knowing things so he brought it up.”

“I'm just surprised it made it here.”

“Bin said he wants to be invited next time we drink together. Not at a party.” Minho didn't want to dwell on the subject any longer

“I’ll let the guys know. They’ll be excited to have some more people over,” Y/n smiled

The two sat at the cafe for a bit longer talking and finishing their drinks. Minho offered a walk around the city which Y/n took him up on. The two walked and talked until the sun went down. Minho walked the girl back to her place before saying good night.

“Text me when you get home,” Y/n called before shutting her door. Minho smiled to himself as he made his way back to his own apartment.

←PREV|NEXT→ MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

a/n: triple update today I guess 🤭

taglist: @xxoche3erryxxo @iadorethemskz @maeleelee @morningstardada @sungookie @mistlitmoonlight @junebug032 @m111nho

[iguessitsjustme]

The thing with choose violence is that I know almost all your answers before I ask... but ANYWAY.

7, 12, 20, 24, 25

You already know the answers because you're stuck with my constantly chatting your ear off about everything. You're welcome. Anyway....oh just looked at these questions and oh. oh dear. I did say that I don't fully care about my answers but for some of these. Oof. Some of these I do care actually. You'll be getting a separate message from me because I can't give my first answer for some of these and you know which ones.

7. what character did you begin to hate not because of canon but because how how the fandom acts about them?

This one I don't really know. Umm..I don't have a lot of characters that I hate because of fandom. I don't generally let fandom influence my opinions like that. But I'm certain there are a few. There are probably more shows that I began to hate because of fandom rather than characters. Ummm...I'm just gonna say Porsche from KinnPorsche though I didn't really like him that much in the show either. But he would have been more tolerable to me without...whatever that was. One time I said he wasn't a good brother and people lost their shit. I stand by what I said about that.

12. the unpopular character that you actually like and why more people should like them

Maya from I Hear the Sunspot. I have already made many posts about Maya and I don't feel like getting into that again. I think she's a great character. Not a great person but she had wonderful growth. If you want more of my Maya thoughts, there are a couple of posts on my blog about it that I don't feel like digging up right now.

20. part of canon you found tedious or boring

Why is every show giving me flashbacks to something that happened five seconds ago in the same damn episode? It's driving me crazy. I'm bored rewatching something I JUST watched and also it's lazy storytelling. Flashbacks can be good but lately they're being used as a crutch and in doing so the show is telling me that it doesn't trust it's storytelling enough for the audience to remember what happened 5 minutes ago. Viewers do not need everything spelled out for them. We are smarter than that.

24. topic that brings up the most rancid discourse

There are many. I'll go with a simple answer. People are allowed to disagree on shows and people are allowed to criticize shows. Neither of those things are a personal attack.

25. common fandom complaint that you're sick of hearing

I haven't seen a whole lot of complaints lately actually. I think I've done an excellent job of curating my online space. I guess the complaint I'm tired of seeing other people rightfully complain about is shipping actors. I don't care what people enjoy as a hobby. I don't care if they ship real people. What I care about is when that shipping culture goes from fandom spaces to real life spaces and actors have their privacy invaded and they're forced to see it. None of the people I follow ever do that but I see them talk about it and how bad irl shipping with pair branded actors gets and I love them forever for talking about it. Acting is a job and when they aren't on the clock, what they do and who they're with is none of our business and we need to keep it that way.

Choose Violence Ask Game

[nashidakyouko]

Girl Talk ~Resident Alien ~ Jay and D'arcy friendship

Also on Ao3.

Summary: Jay stumbles upon D'arcy kissing a woman and they become confidantes 2 years pre-canon. // Platonic Jay and D'arcy, D'asta as a major topic.// T // Word count: ~3000

-

It was early to be drunk for most people. No matter how frequently she drank, people still acted like it was shocking to see D'arcy wasted by 1 PM. Their pitying concern only annoyed her. She grimaced as she knocked back the rest of her flask. It was no one's business if she wanted to escape for a while, time of day be damned.

Before she even knew what was happening, a preachy Ben found her stumbling outside The 59 and promptly attempted to coax her inside—trying to ensure the town's image by removing the drunk from the streets. He kept muttering about how This is bad behavior and We don't want anyone to think Patience is a place where people get drunk all day and roam the streets. D'arcy rolled her eyes at his knit brow and twiddling hands. Of course he was more worried about the town's fragile little image than about his childhood friend's emotional state. He was a real buzzkill since he became the mayor.

Nonetheless, D'arcy allowed him to lead her back in The 59. Before he could ask if she was okay, D'arcy was already filling several shot glasses with whiskey and downing them one after the other. It wasn't long before Ben fled, not wanting to deal with a heavily drunk D'arcy.

After the 3rd shot, D'arcy ran a hand through her dyed-blonde hair and exhaled harshly. She was glad she didn't have to explain anything, but she was going to explode soon from the weight of her own silence. Since no one in town knew how she felt about Asta, though, there was nobody D'arcy could vent to.

Asta was on a getaway with Jimmy for a few days. D'arcy always drank herself stupid when those two went somewhere, unable to deal with thoughts of them together. This whole one-sided love thing was the fucking worst.

The sound of someone clearing their throat drew D'arcy's attention. A woman D'arcy didn't know sat at the bar, all sultry with her plunging v-neck showing plenty of cleavage. The woman could be just good enough for a distraction, D'arcy supposed. She offered to pay for D'arcy's next drink and gave her a coy smile.

A few minutes later, the two of them were in the back alley making out. D'arcy wasn't usually so careless when she was with women. Patience was a small town, and when she was a kid it was obvious that being queer was frowned upon. Granted, it had been almost 20 years since then, and times had changed. She still typically hid her soirees with the fairer sex from the town's eyes, if mostly out of habit.

In her current state, however—moping and beyond wasted—she just didn't care if the whole damn town knew.

The following day, the same kid showed up at the bar just as D'arcy's shift started. The girl looked down at her bouncing feet, chewing her bottom lip with her arms firmly crossed. Dammit. If she was that anxious, D'arcy feared whatever was coming.

Or so she thought until she heard a small gasp and caught sight of a local kid—Jay, was it?—dashing away. Shit. The stranger D'arcy was with didn't notice or didn't care, slipping her tongue deeper into D'arcy's mouth and effectively chasing away thoughts of being caught by a random 15-year-old.

-

D'arcy put on a customer service smile and pretended nothing was amiss. “Hey there, kid! It's Jay, right?” The girl nodded, her eyes still lowered. “Okay, well, you're not getting any alcohol, but we do have soda. Just let me know if you need anything.” This was more courtesy than D'arcy usually showed at The 59. Hopefully, acting like the teen hadn't seen anything would do the trick. She did not want to deal with a kid she barely knew in any capacity, much less concerning her queerness.

When Jay didn't immediately respond, D'arcy took the opportunity to skedaddle... to the other end of the bar. It was her damn shift, so a full escape wasn't an option. She scanned the room, but no one else was in the bar except an older man napping at a table. She peered at him, trying to will him awake so she had an actual customer to keep her unavailable. No dice. Stupid midday lull.

“S-so, um... you like girls...?”

And there it was. Exactly the conversation D'arcy wanted to avoid. She looked around again for any acceptable distraction, finding none at a bar at 2:30 in the afternoon.

With a grimace, D'arcy confirmed through gritted teeth, “Sure do. Got a problem?” She turned to the kid with a glare that she regretted instantly. There was such unmasked vulnerability in Jay's dark brown eyes. Oddly familiar eyes. Kind of like Asta's.

D'arcy reflexively softened like she always did around Asta, even though her best friend wasn't there. “Shit, sorry... I thought you were gonna be a dick about it. Looks like you've got something on your mind?” As much as D'arcy didn't want to play senior queer with a possibly-questioning teenager, the girl's warm eyes had sufficiently weakened her resolve to send Jay packing.

The girl stuttered a laugh. She forced herself to meet D'arcy's eyes. “I think I have a crush on my friend. Who is a girl.”

Without thinking, D'arcy chuckled and commiserated. “You and me both, sister.” She frowned, then added. “I mean, my friend for me. I'm not creeping on kids—promise.” Probably shouldn't have said that, D'arcy feared. At least Jay didn't really know D'arcy or who her friends were.

The way Jay's eyes lit up at the admission of queerness once again nagged D'arcy with a sense of familiarity.

--

Over the next few months, D'arcy and Jay talked regularly—late nights spent drinking soda (though often D'arcy's was laced with alcohol) and staring at the stars while discussing their queer experiences. Jay had long since told D'arcy about the girl she liked, but it became increasingly obvious that D'arcy wasn't keen on sharing her own crush.

One day, Jay spied D'arcy out in town with a group of friends. Jay had met Asta once before, as well as Judy, the curly-haired peppy one scampering alongside D'arcy like an eager puppy. Jay's introduction to Judy that day had been shortened when D'arcy and Asta had to remind Judy that certain topics weren't cool to share with a high school kid.

“Whaaat? But we were doing all that at her age, what's the big deal? I mean, D'arce, when didn't at least one of us have our hands down some guy's—“ Judy's retort was cut off by Asta clamping a hand over her mouth and then dragging Judy away as if it were Asta's job to protect Jay... Weird.

Today, a few others were tagging along, but Jay didn't really know them. And none of them had noticed Jay half-lurking near the baseball field. It was the perfect opportunity for her to get a look at how D'arcy was with her adult friends. Maybe pare down the list of potential girlfriends for her good buddy.

As always, Jay noted how D'arcy never strayed far from Asta. In fact, more often than not, the two of them were touching in some way—holding hands, hugging, arms over each other's shoulders, even sharing kisses on the cheek. Obviously, that was the relationship to watch.

Even with all that physical contact, though, Jay wasn't 100% sure. After all, D'arcy was very physical in general, and it was clear she cared deeply for all of her friends. She acted like Judy was a nuisance, but Jay knew that the second Judy needed someone, D'arcy would be there. Intense loyalty was the very thing that defined D'arcy.

Just as Jay started considering who else D'arcy might like, she saw it.

Asta curling in on herself, cackling at one of D'arcy's quips. And D'arcy watching her joy with the softest, warmest expression Jay had ever seen. It didn't last long, melting into D'arcy's own laughter. But Jay had seen it, and that was all she needed to know.

What surprised Jay more was when Asta opened her eyes and looked at D'arcy the exact same way. Like D'arcy was her sun. Like nothing else mattered as long as Asta could hear D'arcy laugh.

“There's my main underage squeeze!” D'arcy exclaimed when Jay entered the bar.

It certainly seemed to Jay like D'arcy's love wasn't as unrequited as she thought.

-

“You sound like a deviant when you say things like that.” Jay smirked as she set her bag down next to her. The kid showed up before nightfall pretty often. There was an advantage to missing the crowds.

“Whatever, no one's around! Exactly why you come at this time, right? So, what's up, kid?” D'arcy's smile was bright. She found she actually enjoyed the teen's company—far more than she expected. Before Jay could order, D'arcy slid a custom limeade soda in front of her with a grin.

“I just wanted to ask... who's the friend you have a thing for? I think I know, but...” Jay took a long sip of her soda.

D'arcy quirked an eyebrow. “What do you mean you know? You've barely met any of my friends—just Asta and Judy. And Judy was being gross... and Asta was being... weird.”

“Okay, yeah, but I've seen you around town with people, and it's pretty obvious, isn't it?” Jay already sported a shit-eating grin.

“Is it?” It damn well better not be.

“Oh, come on! It totally is Asta.” D'arcy burned red, leaving little room for doubt. Jay victoriously pumped her fist. “Called it! You're just different with her. Honestly, you're way nicer to her than you are to anyone else.” The kid's smug-as-fuck smirk added insult to injury.

D'arcy wanted to sink into a hole. “Me being nice to my best friend is that weird? I knew I could be an asshole, but that's unfair.”

“It isn't just that. It's like... I've seen the way you look at her. Like she's perfect. And you talk about her all the time. I mean, are you even trying to keep it on the DL?”

“I thought I was!” D'arcy threw up her arms. “She's married! The guy is a douche-bucket, but she's not exactly leaving him. I think she should, but I've pretty much given up on that.”

“I've seen him. Jimmy, right? He's a total dong. She'll wake up and hopefully smell the homo-eroticism eventually.”

“Ha! I wish. Even if she left him, she wouldn't want to be with me.” D'arcy vigorously cleaned glasses to avoid Jay's eyes.

“Why do you say that?” Jay cocked her head in confusion.

“Why would she pick the town drunk? She's a freaking nurse, and I bar-tend.” There was no doubt in D'arcy's mind that she wasn't worthy.

Jay scoffed. “Whatever, you're just scared. I'm rooting for you whether you like it or not.”

“... Thanks, Jay.” D'arcy smiled softly. It was good that someone finally knew. At least she wasn't alone anymore.

–

For two years, D'arcy and Jay shared everything about their relationships. The feelings D'arcy had for Asta never faltered, and Jay was always disappointed when D'arcy dated other people—even if the teen understood that Asta was unavailable. No matter who D'arcy was with, it was painfully obvious that she treasured Asta so much more.

“So, I'm working at the clinic now,” Jay said one afternoon.

D'arcy looked at her sharply. “Are you serious? How did that happen?”

“You know how I've been looking for a job for that work credit thing for school? I barely got a word out in an interview before Asta hired me,” Jay shrugged. “I guess they must be short-handed or something, because she seemed kinda desperate. Works for me, though. Now I've got a reason to talk to her, which means I can trash Jimmy. Maybe push her towards you a little.”

D'arcy fidgeted behind the bar-counter. “Y-you shouldn't do that. I mean, it'd be weird, right? Suddenly having some kid she barely knows commenting on her love life...”

“Isn't that exactly how we became friends?”

“Well... yeah... but...” D'arcy sighed. “I just don't know if it's such a good idea, Jay.”

“Too bad. If it bugs you that much, I'll only trash Jimmy when she brings him up... or when he hits her again. I won't even mention you. I still think it could help a little.” Jay stuck out her tongue, grabbing her things and leaving for the day.

Sometimes, even little gestures like the exact way Jay poked out her tongue struck some chord in D'arcy's mind. After all this time, she still couldn't quite place why in some moments Jay reminded her of her best friend. All she knew was that the perceived similarity made D'arcy feel all the more protective of, and endeared to, the 17-year-old.

–

A handful of months later, D'arcy found Jay brooding during the teen's shift at Dan's diner. She'd never explained her sudden job change to D'arcy. Now, a frown deep enough to age Jay ten years darkened her face. D'arcy couldn't recall ever seeing Jay so morose. She sauntered over to the diner bar and sat down, cocking her head to the side and waiting for Jay to speak.

Those brown eyes that always tugged at D'arcy's heart were full of hurt and rage.

After a long moment, Jay expelled a harsh breath and managed to say “Asta's my mother.”

D'arcy wasn't sure what the joke was, but surely Jay was kidding. “Ha! And Sheriff Mike's my father.”

The serious look on Jay's face remained. Oh shit, she wasn't kidding. D'arcy sobered. “Holy shit. You're the baby.”

“I'm not surprised she didn't tell you. She's been keeping it a secret.”

The calculations going through D'arcy's mind were visible on her face. “Yeah... Yeah, she has...” Could this be what Asta had been keeping from her recently?

“I don't know what to do. She's my mother, and I don't even know how to act in front of her... Not to mention my...” Jay's face screwed up in disgust as she spat out “father.”

D'arcy rolled her eyes, understanding all too well. “Oh, right. Jimmy.”

“It's so messed up. What am I supposed to say to someone like that? I mean, I'm gonna see him. I can't talk to Asta. I can't talk to my parents. Maybe I shouldn't even talk to you,” Jay's tone escalated with every word, anger bubbling over. Then she quieted as she looked imploringly at D'arcy. “But I feel like I am losing my mind and you've always listened before...”

“Hey, hey!” D'arcy took both of Jay's hands and looked her squarely in the eyes. “You know you can totally talk to me. Always. This is a little different than our usual, but you know I've got you, okay?”

Jay almost cracked a smile, but her mind was still reeling too much and she began another spiral. “I can't do this alone. I can't—“

D'arcy tugged Jay's hands to cut her off. “You are not alone. I can help you. A bit. Can't do magic or anything, but I have a way to let Jimmy know how you feel, at least.”

That finally did earn a little smile from the overwhelmed Jay. D'arcy tacked on, “Hey, can you get free onion rings? It's part of the plan.” Her teasing grin was infectious, and for the first time all day, Jay laughed.

“Yeah, sure... Can we do this plan of yours later, though? I think I need to keep talking right now.” Jay came over from behind the counter, sitting next to D'arcy.

“You know it, kid. I'll be right here.” On seeing the flicker of a twinkle in Jay's eyes, a long-standing mystery was solved. D'arcy exclaimed, “Holy fuck, that's why your eyes look just like Asta's! I should've figured it out ages ago! Jesus, you're the right age and you always remind me of her. How did I miss it?” It had been so obvious, but what wasn't obvious when you looked at it in retrospect? Maybe D'arcy had been so sure she'd never meet Asta's kid that she automatically ignored the possibility. Either that, or D'arcy was a special kind of idiot.

“Everyone missed it. Including me, and I've been working with her, like, every day for months. About that—it's pretty sketchy how she hired me at the clinic. How weird is it that she never said anything? I'm so pissed and confused and I don't know what to do about any of it.” Jay glowered and rested her forehead on the counter.

Nearby, Dan took note with a frown. He knew Jay needed to talk to someone uninvolved, so he simply pushed a chocolate milkshake towards Jay and made himself scarce. It would be okay, eventually. And for now, the shake might help ease the anger. At least a little bit.

For the next half hour, D'arcy listened to Jay working through her feelings, only commenting enough to assure Jay she was paying attention. Eventually, Jay ran out of steam, deflating in her seat. She leaned over and rested her head on D'arcy's shoulder. Immediately, D'arcy wrapped an arm around her good friend. It was all so much, and it wouldn't be made okay right away. All she could do was provide support. She was going to need to talk to Asta soon.

With the initial shock of Jay's revelation settling down, another, more embarrassing thought occurred to D'arcy. Before she could help herself, she blurted:

“Oh, shit. I've been talking to you about your birth mom for the past two years. That's...”

Mortifying. Inappropriate, maybe. Definitively weird. By some measures, even gross.

Jay did a spit-take with her milkshake, eyes wide. “Oh, God. Yeah, that's...”

Awkward. That was the best, most succinct word for it.

A damning silence suffocated them.

Eventually, blessedly, Jay spoke.

Once she heard the words, however, D'arcy wondered if Jay should have just kept to the harsh quiet.

“... Y'know, I still want you two to end up together, Step-Mom.”

Mouth gaping wide, D'arcy could think of no other action but to quickly flee while her brain short-circuited.

--

I'm adopted, and I'd NEVER call my birth mother “my mother.” But Jay did *sigh*

A/N:

I altered the scene where Jay tells D'arcy about Asta, because being friends for 2 years is going change that conversation to an extent. I kept as much of the original dialogue as I found fitting.

Oh and keep in mind I did not “make” Jay queer. She had boyfriends in s1, but a girlfriend in s3.

Last thing, I went with D'arcy's blonde hair with the blue tips for the whole fic, rather than bouncing around.

Likes/comments/reblogs are love! Thanks for reading!

Disclaimer: RA isn't mine

[aurorafables]

From the Grey, Chapter 2.

First of all, thank you for the likes and reblogging 😊 you just made my day when I saw any activity on my post. The story will be more than 20 chapters, so it's time for the second part. Enjoy! 😉

Pairing: Noah Sebastian X Nicholas Ruffilo

Warnings: 18+, Explicit, Angst, Past character death, Suicidal thoughts

Tags: M/M, Slow burn, Childhood friends, Friends to lovers, Family drama, Band fic

Word Count: 3.7k

Cross-posted: AO3

2.

All four of us hated interviews, and no matter how much we tried to take some of the burden off Noah's shoulders, as the main lyricist and music writer, as well as the lead singer of the band, most of the time it fell to him to answer the questions. Over the years, he got better at it, and he took the hurdles more easily from interview to interview. He could dissolve in a few minutes, and if asked about the process of creation, he could talk for hours.

We were in one of our label's offices between two concerts. Noah was called from a magazine, and they were talking on video call, and I, out of the picture, stretched out in the mustard yellow faux leather armchair with my cell phone. I was only half paying attention to the conversation, but sometimes I got lost in Noah's soothing voice while I was replying to my girlfriend's messages. When the possible connection between his lyrics and his experiences came up, I looked at him a little worried. I could only half see his face from behind his laptop screen, but I waited with bated breath for an answer. Noah thought for a moment, then revealed as much as he could, but gave as vague an answer as possible. “ … I'm trying to find the limit so that everyone can relate to what they’re going through, at least for the most part. And I also think it’s kind of corny sometimes to be like too specific and… it takes out the fun of it, the whole thing loses its effect and its poetry. In addition, I don't like to express my life and personal experiences too much through the lyrics. I want them to talk about my music, not me.” I was damn proud of him, and I think it was written on my face, because he glanced over at me and gave me a thumbs up under the table where only I could see. I was afraid that he would be put in an uncomfortable situation, that things he didn't want to talk about would be taken out of him, but he solved it professionally and then steered the conversation to slightly lighter topics. I remembered the moment when he was afraid and pushed the little notebook in front of me that hid the pieces of his soul.

We were both at the tattoo parlor trying to pass the time until closing time. Noah had finished a nice bathroom cleaning that I had done when I was a newbie, and was sitting on the corner sofa, holding a notebook that I've seen him carry a lot lately. I looked up from my sketch and watched him bite his lip as he wrote something down. Then he drew out a line, brushed a strand of hair that hung in his face behind his ear, and resumed writing. It was always good to spend time together, even if we were just sitting in the same room and lost in our own things. The silence was also pleasant with him. I really realized this when Noah spent the night with someone else a few days earlier. I had a hard time falling asleep, and even when I did, I woke up an hour later. It was five in the morning when I checked my phone for the umpteenth time and put it back on the windowsill in frustration because he hadn't texted me. I mentally forbade myself to ask him if he was okay, but it cost me to wake up the next morning as a zombie and go to work. It wasn't until the next night - as I listened to Noah breathe softly on the mattress - that I realized that I was missing it. The sound of his breathing. I glanced at the clock—we still had at least twenty minutes—then closed the sketchbook, stretched out, and sat down next to Noah on the couch. The corner of his mouth turned up as he realized I was there, but otherwise he didn't bother, continued to write, only looking up again when he seemed to have reached the end. Whatever he was doing. I didn't know him as someone who writes a diary, so my first guess would have been song lyrics. But I didn't really have to grope in the dark for long, because he opened his notebook and handed it to me. I raised my eyebrows questioningly, but took it from him without a word. I detected a slight nervousness in his dark brown eyes, and he added to it when he started biting his lower lip. I knew it was a big deal that was happening and I just felt I was the first to read into his notebook. Noah pulled up one leg, rested his chin on his knee, and looked at me as I began to read between the transcribed, drawn out lines.

"I see through you I know what you are I've seen the Devil more than I've seen God And when he has you by your neck I hope you choke on every fucking word you said" "You've dug your grave and you have no one but yourself to blame I see the world in black and white Because true color always fades under the right lights"*

“Wow,” I said with a big sigh, and staring in front of me, I tried to process what the lines were saying. I guessed who it might be about, it wasn't hard to figure out who he was so angry with, because these words almost oozed hatred. Then when I got over it, I could finally appreciate it all. "Noah, that's pretty good," I looked at him, and I can only hope that he saw in my eyes how sincerely I said this. Because in my opinion there was no trace of bias, only admiration. “Why don't you show it to your band?” Noah snorted and took the notebook back. “I'm not even seventeen, Nick. Why would they listen to me? Why would they want anything to do with a kid's lyrics?” “Because it's fucking good?” I asked back in disbelief. “No,” he shook his head and threw the notebook and pen into his bag. “It wouldn't make any sense if someone else sang it.” I watched as he quickly packed up and sullenly sank into the soft couch with folded arms. Oh…he never mentioned that. “Do you want to sing, doe?” I asked him with a smile. Noah rolled his eyes at the nickname I had given him a few years ago when he suddenly grew and was all legs and arms. “Why would I want to, when it looks like we'll soon get our first record deal as guitarists?” “Because you are young, full of dreams,” I whispered to him while I leaned my head on his shoulder. “You can be anything else. Just imagine… the audience standing at your feet and singing along with you word for word the songs you wrote.” Noah didn't answer right away, I'm sure he was toying with the idea of ​​what it would be like if… "Nick, you are crazy," he finally said, laughing in confusion. “I'm just fucking tired,” I defended myself, during a yawn. “But I still mean what I said.” I pulled away from him, and Noah just shook his head in disbelief. In the four years we've known each other, I've noticed that he reacts strangely when I tell him he can do something big. It hurts to think that the reason for this could be that in his childhood he was constantly trying to destroy him to such an extent that he simply cannot deal with encouragement. It's like he expects me to laugh at him after that and tell him to forget it, he'll never be able to do that. And yes, it still hurt a little that he assumed that about me, but I understood it was unfortunately coded into his DNA. Words and their amazing power… However, there is something more here: his desire to prove himself, his determination and perseverance. “I hate so much that I can't put these in her face anymore,” he spoke after a while, almost muttering. It's like he's tired of all this a long time ago. Our eyes met and without a word I slid closer to hug him. "I know… I know," I whispered into his hair, then kissed his head. His dreams trumped everything, which makes me very proud of him. He started to build his life nicely, and before our first album was completely finished, our song Glass Houses also received the last touches and expansions on the text, just to make it all round:

"You said I'd never make it You said I'd make a mistake But now I'm right where I belong and you've got nothing to say"*

Noah founded a new band that was all his own, he started singing, and the audience is already singing along. And his mother has been rotting in a cemetery ever since, but perhaps not so deep that if thousands of people were shouting at the same time, she wouldn't hear the message intended for her.

We stepped out of the air-conditioned office into the Californian heat and the hustle and bustle of the street. I put on my sunglasses and waited for Noah to find his before we hit the road. People went to lunch, and at that time they poured out of the offices, and although we didn't fit in with the figures in suits and costumes, we still tried to remain invisible. Jolly and Folio were waiting for us at a Mexican restaurant just a few blocks from the Sumerian Records office. We stopped at a red light, and as the asphalt almost steamed from the heat, I regretted not tying my hair before we left the office. I ran my hands under my thick curls and lifted my hair a little. Noah looked at me and smiled. "There are advantages to having short hair, you know," he remarked, and I just stuck out my tongue. “Maybe some people can do whatever he want with his hairstyle, but I think my magic lies in my hair,” I answered him. “I can't believe that. When I met you, your hair was still short, and even then…” he began, but the light turned green, so we set off in the rushing crowd. “What then?” I asked him when we got through. Noah glanced at me from behind his glasses and shrugged. “Even then, you were you.” I furrowed my brows at his answer, but did not pursue the matter further. We were approaching a Starbucks, and I had already guessed that we would have a stop there. I was right, because Noah touched my arm and motioned with his head towards the entrance. I followed him, and I didn't mind that there were a few ahead of us, because at least we could cool down in there. "I'm getting the key to Steven's lake cottage next week," Noah said unexpectedly, while I squinted at the list of iced drinks on the wall behind the counter. Then I turned to him and waited for him to continue. “If you think so, of course, only if you want to… it would be great if you could join me.” Noah had pushed his sunglasses up on top of his head, I could see his eyes full of hope. I don't even remember the last time we went somewhere without the boys. "The thing is…" Noah continued while I was lost in my thoughts, "I miss you. Since I've been living in California with the others, we don't hang out much outside of the band.” He spoke my thoughts out loud in their entirety. We had another concert on Saturday this week, then two weeks of rest, which I would have liked to have spent with him, but then something came up to my mind. “I promised to come to Maya's mom's birthday party next week.” Storm clouds appeared on Noah's face. As fast as being doused with a bucket of ice water. He's always had a hard time with rejection…and besides, he's never waited to find out if it really was rejection. “Then…” “I have to be at the party organized by my girlfriend. But that doesn't mean I have to stay with them for the second week,” I told him with a small smile as I ran my palm over his forearm. “So yes, you can count on me, along with a dozen mosquitos.” Noah finally smiled genuinely, flashing his white teeth as his eyes narrowed and his small laugh lines deepened. I was instantly euphoric, but the thought that I would still have done anything to see him happy was terrifying. It was soon our turn to order, but for some reason I got really stuck studying his face. I watched him speak — I couldn't even remember what I ordered in the end — and I thought to myself what a strange coincidence that Maya is Asian. Until now, I didn't even pay much attention to this, but then our tour in Japan a few years ago popped into my mind.

Noah was lounging in a towel in front of the bathroom mirror, drying his hair. I sat on the bed in his hotel room and waited for him to finish, because we had to go to the rehearsal. I fumbled with my phone when I found a picture from the day before with both of us tagged. When we went sightseeing, some fans came up to us and we took a picture with them. Back then, it was still rare to be recognized on the street. I grinned and got up to go to the bathroom to show the picture to Noah as he had been in a weird mood all day and I expected it to cheer him up a bit. I raised my cell phone in front of his face. Noah stopped brushing his hair and put the hairbrush on the counter, then took the phone from me. He looked at the photo with critical eyes, then looked into the mirror, where our eyes met. He returned the mobile and said nothing. He turned on the hotel's hair dryer and began the operation with complete resignation, and I stood beside him, confused. “Is something wrong?” I asked in the loud noise. “What did you say?” he asked back after turning off the hair dryer. I sighed and leaned against the counter. "I thought you'd like it here," I admitted. ”It's a big adventure that we got this far with the band, and besides, hey, we're in Japan!” I spread my arms in confusion. Noah looked at me silently, his eyes shining darkly, then finally just shook his head. “Should I get more excited because we are in the birthplace of Manga and Anime?” he asked cynically. I wanted so badly to understand… I wanted to know what was going through his mind. I wasn't satisfied with that answer. "Your roots lead back here," I said quietly. Noah snorted and ran the brush over his hair again. “I have no roots. I'm just going with the flow.” “Do you mean you hate Japan?” “Why should I love it? Nothing binds me here except my mother's devil plan to not rest until she gives birth to a half-breed child.” I've heard this story before, and since then I haven't been able to understand what kind of person is, who is able to wade through all emotions and reason for the sake of a fixation. “This place… it just confirms to me that I don't fit in completely here either.” I remembered the bullying he received at school for being different from the others, which must have contributed to his dropping out of education at the age of fifteen. The blue bruise on his cheekbone and how he wouldn't even admit to me that one of his idiot classmates had laid a hand on him. Things got a little better when he started hanging out with us, the graduates who were three years older, but after graduation I couldn't protect him anymore. Freak, bastard, mix, little girl because of his long hair, fag… and these are just the adjectives he told me, who knows what words were thrown at his head. I have already received some of these, but it hurt much more to know that Noah had to face this every day. I looked up at him, because he was already half a head taller than me, and I only spoke when he was finally paying attention to me. “I don't know how much my opinion matters, but I think your mother's only good decision is that you exist.” I turned away and left him alone in the bath. Let his rage some more if he felt he needed to, but first I wanted to let him know how important he was to me. The next day, when we were in Nara, the city of deers, Noah finally smiled after a week. Indeed, his whole face brightened and he fed the animals as happily as a small child. As he sunk his teeth into his bottom lip and tried to hold back a burst of laughter as he idly watched me being torn apart by some naughty deers for a few morsels of food, I realized that digging into things the day before had been worth it.

Noah was a step ahead of me, checking on his phone if we were going in the right direction, and I was behind him sipping my shake, which turned out to be chocolate flavored after the first taste. My gaze drifted to his broad shoulders, then to his tattooed biceps, which tensed slightly as he gestured with his iced coffee towards a street where we had to turn. I would have bet that none of his old classmates would have dared to bully him again. The others were already sitting at the table when we arrived. Jolly noted that he was already starting to starve, which didn't seem like much of a problem since the appetizer was already on the table. Noah immediately threw himself on some roasted, spicy peppers while I browsed the drink menu. “How was the interview?” asked Folio, his cold beer in hand. I glanced up at them from behind the little notebook. “The usual," Noah shrugged, then licked his finger. “Don't worry, it wasn't mentioned that you fell on your ass on the way down the stairs at the last concert,” he added with an evil grin, for which our drummer punched him on the shoulder in return. We all started laughing. I remembered walking off the stage two days ago, exhausted, Folio coming after me, and then after a big thump - which I could hear clearly even through the loud shouting of the audience - I looked back and thought he was gone, but then I saw him sitting on the metal steps. Fortunately, he was not harmed. “I thought I would rest a bit,” Folio defended himself. “Some people hold only one microphone the whole time, and I am the one who trains hard on stage for an hour and a half. You should try it sometime, Noah.” “I'm still perfect the way I’m,” Noah looked at me and we smiled at each other. “You don't want to hear my drumming skill,” he added horrified. "Personally, I don't want to hear Folio sing," I interjected, and the others laughed and nodded in agreement. “Great, then everything will remain as it was,” concluded Jolly. The waiter came out and took our order. Noah asked for half the menu because he wanted to try everything, so I only ordered a burrito. I felt that I would have leftovers from his order.

“And what are your plans for the break?” Folio asked. "I'm meeting Maya," I answered. “I am going home to the family in Sweden,” said Jolly. “I have to record some vocals, then I will rest,” Noah answered. “With Karin?” Folio asked back. The mood at the table suddenly became frosty. Noah snorted but didn't say anything, just poked at the napkin. I felt that somehow I had to save him from this unpleasant situation. "That wouldn't be about rest," I said, the first thing that came to mind. It seemed like a good idea to play it off with a joke, but when Noah turned his head toward me, he looked at me like he couldn't believe I just said that. I already regretted speaking. "I'll be right back, guys," Noah said, still staring at me like I'd grown a second head. He headed for the bathrooms and I was so damn tempted to follow him and find out what was wrong, but I couldn't. I didn't want to run after him in front of our friends like I was his puppy, so I sighed and put my hands on my knees as if I could hold my legs back from the walk. "It would be good to neglect this Karin subject, Folio," said Jolly, then turned to me. “Don't feel bad about it. We didn't know we couldn't even joke with him.” I actually felt bad because I didn't know… I had no idea what was going on between Noah and the girl, so I didn't even think about hurting my best friend. Noah acted like I didn't exist that day. He quickly finished his lunch and said he had work to do and had to go. I stayed there with the boys and a pile of food. The tension eased a bit for our weekend concert, but it was still fucked up.

Suddenly, I found myself on the plane home, still not sure what happened at the restaurant. I've regretted a thousand times that I didn't go and find out what was wrong. I could only hope that we would be able to discuss it next week, and that was only one of the reasons why I couldn't wait to fly back to him in California.

*Bad Omens - Glass Houses