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ellewritesx · 2 days ago

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(part two of the sugar, baby series)

Summary: Before he can break you in, he needs to know exactly where you break.

Warnings: sugardaddy arrangement, fingering, oral (f!receiving), use of vibrator, mention of handcuffs, blindfolding, a panic attack, repeated use of safe words, a ton of ''good girl'' (oops), dom!Harry, it just gets kind of intense guys

A/N: i had so much fun writing this and i've got sooo much still in store for the series! i have no idea how this ended up being almost 5k words cause it feels shorter than anything else i've written but yk what i'll take it. let me know if you like this x

Word Count: 4,870

...

The morning after that first night with Harry, you wake up to the shrill buzz of your phone, a new notification lighting up the cracked screen. Bleary-eyed, you swipe it open and freeze. Your stomach drops. You blink once. Twice. But the number doesn't change.

Ten thousand dollars.

Deposited directly into your checking account at six o'clock in the morning. For a moment, all you can do is sit there, fingers trembling slightly where they clutch the device, heart hammering against your ribs like it's trying to punch its way free. It feels unreal, like a glitch in the system, like some impossibly generous mistake you should scramble to correct.

Before you can spiral too far, another notification rolls in.

Harry: For your trouble. Don't get any ideas, it won't always be this generous.

You don't know if he's joking.

Still in your pajamas, still half-numb, you stumble over to the kitchen table and open your laptop. In a daze, you pay off two months' rent in advance. Clear the electricity bill that's been relentlessly stacking up with threatening red letters. Kill the last of your credit card debt, the looming, gnawing anxiety that's been a permanent fixture in your life for as long as you can remember. With one click, it all vanishes. Just like that. You release a breath you didn't know you were holding.

You sit back in the wobbly wooden chair and stare at the zeros. No debts to pay off. Rent covered for months. You blink slowly, feeling weightless and heavy all at once.

You should cry. You'd expected you would. But no tears come. Only a heavy, eerie kind of calm. Like you were standing on the edge of something vast and bottomless and have just taken your first step backwards, away from the deep end.

Later that afternoon, your phone pings again.

Harry: Quit the fucking cafe. Waste of time.

You stare at the message, thumb hovering over the screen. It would be so easy. To type out a resignation email, walk out of that dingy little shop with its sticky counters and fluorescent lights that make your head ache, and never look back. To let Harry sweep you up and off your feet and stay at home, maybe pursue a hobby.

But you don't. You type out a short, almost defiant reply. Can't. I like it.

You don't explain that working keeps you tethered to yourself. That hard work isn't just something you do; it's part of who you are. You've never had anything handed to you before. You've worked for every scrap, every small victory, every breath of air above water. Walking away from that would feel too much like walking away from yourself, even if a selfish, aching part of you wants to.

You wonder if your answer will piss him off. You wonder why a wicked little part of you wants it to.

When he doesn't reply, you expect to be iced out. Canceled. Game over before it even begins. It makes your stomach churn in fear. But the next day, after a particularly exhausting shift, a message comes through, curt and demanding:

Harry: Come to mine tonight. 9PM. Need to finalize terms.

His tone is sharp and professional, but something about it makes a subtle anticipation bloom between your legs anyway. You spend an hour picking out an outfit, second-guessing yourself the whole time. In the end, you settle on something simple. Comfortable, but soft. Easy to take off. You tell yourself it's practicality, but the fluttering in your stomach calls you a liar.

You take the bus to his place, cringing at the cost of a ticket until you remember that you've got more than enough money now. Hell, you could've ordered a limousine if you'd liked.

You never visit this part of the city. The people here wear designer sunglasses that cost more than a year's worth of your salary (besides, what's the point of wearing sunglasses when it's nearly pitch-black outside?), peering over them at you like they can sense that you're not like them. That you don't belong here.

When you knock on his door, Harry answers immediately, like he's been standing just behind it, waiting. His lingers in the doorway, broad shoulders framed in a loose black hoodie, sweatpants hanging low on his hips, his curls damp like he's just stepped out of the shower. The faint smell of vanilla and mint clings to his skin, warm and heady in the cool night air.

He leans against the doorframe, appraising you silently for a moment with those unreadable green eyes, and something tightens inside your chest. You wonder if he notices the dark circles under your eyes you've tried covering up, exhaustion having clawed its way into your skin, unrelenting. You wonder if he resents it, a reminder that you aren't fully his yet. That you still belong, even a little, to a life outside of what he's trying to build around you.

''Come in,'' he says finally, voice low and gravelly. It's not a request.

You step inside, heart hammering.

"You're late," he says without looking at you, voice dry, turning his back on you and walking back into the apartment like he already knows you'll follow.

Your breath stutters. "Five minutes."

He only shrugs, like it doesn't matter, like you don't matter, and maybe you don't, but something in the way he leaves the door open, wide and waiting, soothes the sting a little. An invitation, even if it's a sharp-edged one.

The apartment smells like expensive cologne and the faintest trace of smoke, like he aired it out but not quite enough. The lighting is low, casting long, moody shadows across the heavy furniture: sleek, cold, and obscenely rich. Dark leather sofas. A steel-and-glass coffee table. No rugs, no paintings, no photos. No personal touches at all. You take a few cautious steps inside, pulse thrumming, letting your eyes roam while he moves into the kitchen.

The place feels like a model home. It's sterile. Hollow. Like a space meant to impress but never to be lived in. There are no family portraits, no framed snapshots of drunken nights with friends, no messy piles of mail or keys on the counters. Just the necessities. Barely even that. You wonder what kind of person chooses to live like this. You wonder if he even notices the loneliness curling in the corners of the room, or if he's too used to it by now to care.

You hear the clink of glass behind you; Harry fixing himself a drink. Something amber and expensive sloshes into a crystal tumbler. Without asking, he pours a second drink, slightly lighter, and sets it down on the counter with a muted tap.

Decided for you, like everything else. You take a small sip. It's good. He knows you better than you think.

When he finally turns back to face you, he's cradling his drink lazily in one hand, the other tucked into the pocket of his sweatpants. He cocks his head, surveying you like you're something he's bought and isn't quite sure he's satisfied with yet.

"Clothes off,'' he orders without ceremony, without even offering the barest pretense of conversation or kindness.

You blink, caught off-guard by the bluntness of it, the complete lack of foreplay, not sexual, but social. No small talk. No polite lies to smooth the way. Just a command.

Your fingers twitch at your sides, the blood in your veins boiling unpleasantly with offense. It's not like you didn't know what this was (you agreed to it, after all), but still, something about the way he dismisses any human interaction and social norms you're used to stings a little more than you're prepared for. Like you're less a person, more an object now. A thing he's purchased fair and square, and can use however he sees fit.

For a split second, you hesitate. The frown that flickers across your face is small, barely there, but it flashes quick and instinctive before you can school your features.

And Harry sees it. Of course he does. His eyes sharpen, a glint of something unreadable flickering behind the casual facade. He lifts the tumbler to his mouth, sips slowly, never breaking eye contact.

But he doesn't apologize. Doesn't explain himself. Doesn't soften the command. He just lets the silence stretch, heavy and deliberate, until the only thing you can hear is the faint hum of the busy bustling outside and the sound of your own breathing.

Still, something shifts almost imperceptibly in the air between you. Like he's offering you a choice, even if it's silent. Testing you. Waiting to see if you'll push back or fold.

Your fingers reluctantly move to the zipper of your dress, fumbling slightly. The fabric feels heavier than it should, thick and stubborn under your touch. Your cheeks flame with heat as you let it pool around your ankles, the air cool against your bare skin. You don't dare meet his eyes. Your panties come next, sliding down your legs in a slow, humiliating crawl.

You stand there, naked and flushed, heart jackhammering, feeling less like a goddess offered up on a velvet throne and more like a product left bare on a shelf for inspection.

Harry finishes his drink in one long swallow, sets the glass down with a sharp clink. Then he moves, slow, deliberate, until he's standing right in front of you, close enough to feel the heat radiating off his body. Two fingers tilt your chin up until your gaze locks with his.

"Color?" he asks quietly, almost gently, surprising you.

The simple question unravels something in you. You swallow hard. "Green," you whisper, the word catching slightly in your throat.

His mouth curves, not a smile, exactly, but something close. Satisfaction. Approval. Good girl.

You don't know if you're trembling from the cold or from the way he's looking at you like a man starved.

"On the bed," he orders, voice lowering, rougher this time.

You hesitantly walk toward the bed, your nerves buzzing like an electric current, your skin prickling under his watchful gaze. He follows behind at a leisurely pace, his steps deliberate, as though he owns every inch of the space between you two.

When you sit, knees pressed together tightly, a nervous instinct, you can feel his eyes on you, sharp and calculating. He doesn't say a word, but his stare is almost suffocating, like he's dissecting every tiny twitch of your body. You think you're hiding it, the tension coiling in your gut, the sharp breath you can't quite control, but Harry notices. He always notices.

"Spread."

You hesitate, just for a second, but that's enough. A flicker of amusement passes over his features, the kind that tightens your chest even more. You obey, reluctantly, the cool sheets beneath you feeling too uncomfortable, too foreign, your breath stuttering as you do what he says. He slowly kneels before you, like he's got all the time in the world, his hand casually holding something you hadn't even seen him grab: a slim, black vibrator, sleek and intimidating.

Your stomach flips. You open your mouth, but the words get stuck somewhere between wanting to beg him to stop and wanting to prove yourself.

"We're gonna test your limits," he says simply, his tone darker, more serious now. "Gotta know what you like. What you don't."

You swallow. "I thought we were... going to talk about the arrangement. Finalize the terms?"

He smirks, slow and cruel. "We are, baby. This is part of it."

Your heart races as he rolls the vibrator between his fingers, eyes glinting as he examines you. He's studying your every reaction, every subtle change in your body language.

You shift uncomfortably. Your hands are trembling, but you try to control it. You're not good at this, not good at admitting when you're not okay, not good at showing your hesitance.

The vibrator hums to life with a quiet buzz, low at first. He starts slow, teasing the inside of your thighs, moving closer to your hips, barely brushing against where you need him. Your body clenches, straining towards it instinctively. He watches you, eyes focused, reading every tiny twitch in your expression, every sharp intake of breath, every subtle, desperate movement of your body.

"No lying," he says, voice serious now. "I'll know."

You nod shakily.

His fingers hover near your skin, just enough to make you ache for his touch, but not enough to relieve the pressure building inside you.

"Beg."

"Please," you whisper, barely audible.

"Please, what?"

"Please touch me."

His smile deepens, satisfied, and he presses the vibrator firmly against your clit. Your hips jerk violently at the sensation. You need more, so much more, but it's too much at the same time. Your body can't decide what it wants.

"Good girl," he murmurs, his voice low and guttural.

He keeps the vibrations steady at first, gentle pulses that send waves of heat and discomfort through your body, your breath ragged, eyes shut tight. But then he turns it up, gradually increasing the intensity, and you feel like you're losing your mind.

Your body is already sensitive, already overstimulated from a long day at work dealing with insufferable customers, and the more he pushes, the more your thoughts scatter.

When the toy brushes lower, teasing your entrance, your body tightens reflexively. You flinch. You can't help it. The discomfort, the anxiety, it all hits at once.

He immediately pulls back, eyes narrowing as he watches you, still calm, still in control.

Your breath is shallow, your chest rising and falling too quickly, too erratically. You're embarrassed. This is not the reaction he was hoping for. He's watching you, scrutinizing you.

"That's a no, then?" he asks, voice still cool, but there's a hint of something else, a hint of curiosity.

You blink quickly, nodding hesitantly as you try to steady your breathing. Your chest is tight. Your hands are still fisted in the sheets, trying to ground yourself, but it's hard.

He clicks the vibrator off, the absence of the buzzing almost as deafening as the silence between you. He moves up the bed toward you, his gaze softening just a little, but the dominance in his posture remains.

"You should tell me when you don't like something," he tells you, voice low, almost like he's lecturing you, but there's no harshness in it. ''It's not my job to guess what you want. You've gotta speak up when things aren't okay."

Your throat tightens. "I didn't want to... disappoint you."

He laughs softly, not unkind but with an edge of exasperation. ''You're not a fucking robot, baby. Don't play me for one. I'm not paying for you to pretend.''

His bluntness cuts through the shame, leaving you raw, exposed.

"Let's continue," he announces, the smirk tugging at his lips. You nod, dazed, unable to think clearly.

He presses his lips to your neck, nipping at the skin with sharp little bites, and you gasp, your whole body reacting to him.

He doesn't give you time to recover before his hand disappears under the bed, pulling out a pair of handcuffs. The cold metal glints in the dim light, and your stomach plummets, dread pooling at the pit of your stomach. Your eyes flick to the cuffs, to him, to the way he's watching you, waiting. You don't want to seem weak. But the panic is rising, bubbling just under the surface.

He sees it. That flicker of fear. And to your shock, he tosses the cuffs aside without a second thought.

"No?" he says, arching a brow, the coolness of his voice making your heart beat faster. ''That's alright.''

You don't know whether you're relieved or disappointed. But you're grateful, more than anything, that he noticed. That he cared.

He shifts you, gently but firmly, positioning you on your stomach, ass up. He pins your hands behind your back, his grip firm but not painful, his fingers like iron. You can't move, can't escape, but it doesn't feel like punishment.

"This," he mutters, low and dark with satisfaction, his voice laced with something rough and possessive. "This I know you like."

You can't help the soft whimper that escapes your lips as his body presses against yours, grinding slow and punishing, drawing out each movement. Your mind starts to unravel as he moves over you, your body arching into him automatically, desperate for more.

Harry's hands let go of your hands and stroke slow along your arms, down your sides, grounding you in the bed's soft sheets. His touch is almost tender, but his voice stays steady, purposeful, like he's still holding back, still working toward something darker.

''Wanna try something,'' he mutters, his mouth brushing over your ear. ''Think you can handle that, baby?''

You hesitate, heart jumping a little too fast in your chest. But you nod, eager to please, eager not to disappoint him, even if there's a pit opening up inside your gut.

He notices the slight delay in your answer, a flash of reassurance passing over his face before he pushes up from the bed and retrieves something from one of the drawers in the nighstand beside his bed: a long strip of black silk. Smooth, intimidating.

You tell yourself you're fine. You tell yourself you can handle it.

He straddles your hips, pinning you lightly to the mattress with the weight of his body, and your breath catches when he brings the silk to your face, letting it ghost across your cheeks. He watches you, studying every twitch of discomfort, every tiny tremble of your lips, but when you don't say anything, he smiles, slow and satisfied.

"Good girl," he breathes, tying the blindfold tight around your eyes.

Darkness falls immediately. Your world narrows to the sound of your breathing, too loud in your ears, and the rough scrape of Harry's sweatpants against your bare skin.

You feel his hand trail down your side, but you can't see it coming, can't prepare for the way it jolts through your body, can't anticipate where he'll touch next. The loss of control makes your heart hammer faster, panic starting to simmer under the surface.

It's fine. It's fine.

Except it's not.

You can't see him. You can't read him. You can't breathe.

The air in the room feels too thick, too heavy. Your chest tightens, your hands gripping at the sheets helplessly, your body locking up beneath him. You try to stay quiet, you try not to ruin it, but your breathing gives you away, short, ragged little gasps that stutter out of you uncontrollably. The harder you try to stop it, the worse it gets.

At first, Harry doesn't notice. His hands are moving, teasing, rough and unrelenting, dragging noises out of your mouth you don't even recognize. But when you whimper softly, not in pleasure, but in fear, you feel him freeze above you. His body goes stiff. You realize, even through the roaring of your rapid heartbeat in your ears, that he's gone completely silent.

''Take the blindfold off,'' he commands sharply.

You struggle to move, shakily reaching up, but he swats your hands away and rips it off himself, tossing the silk onto the floor. His face is right there, inches from yours, his brow furrowed, his mouth drawn into a hard line.

''What the fuck do you think you're doing?'' he demands, voice low and cold and furious.

You flinch, shrinking down into the bed, heat flooding your cheeks in shame. You don't know what to say. You don't know how to fix it.

He sees the panic still written all over you, the way your hands are still trembling, the way you're practically vibrating with anxiety. His mouth curves into something crueler, something sharper, the fire of burning frustration clear in his eyes.

He's disappointed. You've responded poorly to nearly everything he's into. You bet he's offended. You bet he regrets picking you.

"You think I'm mad you're uncomfortable?" he growls, voice harsh enough to make your stomach drop, like he knows exactly what you were thinking and he doesn't like it. "I'm not mad you didn't like it. I'm mad you didn't fucking say so."

Your throat closes up, tears stinging behind your eyes, but Harry doesn't let up. He grabs your chin roughly in his hand, forcing your gaze up to meet his.

''You have a mouth. Use it. I'm very fucking strict about my safe words. You hear me?''

You nod quickly, shame burning through you, but it's not enough for him. Not nearly enough. He sits back on his heels, looming over you, voice cool and clinical like he's disciplining a disobedient pet.

"You're gonna sit there and answer me properly," he says, voice sharp enough to cut. "And you're gonna think about what you say. Understand?"

You nod, small and desperate.

"Use your fucking words."

"Yes, Harry."

"Good," he mutters, eyes narrowing.

He leans in a little, his hand wrapping around your throat, not squeezing, just holding. His thumb strokes lazily over your pulse, feeling it race.

"What do you say," he begins, voice low, "if I've got my hand around your throat... just like this... and I'm fucking you slow, deep, making you feel so full you think you're gonna split apart... and it feels good, but my pace is leaving bruises? Hm?"

You blink up at him, breathing shaky. "Yellow." Slow down.

His mouth twitches, the ghost of a smile. "Good girl."

"What do you say if I'm making you suck me off, not letting you breathe, holding your head down, spit and tears dripping off your chin, and it starts feeling like too much at once?"

You shiver, heat flooding through your body at the image, even as shame creeps higher up your throat. "Yellow," you whisper.

"Louder."

"Yellow, Harry."

He nods, satisfied, squeezing your jaw in his hand.

"And what if I decide to cuff you to the bed," he murmurs, "and leave you there for hours. Touch you, tease you, never let you come. What then, hm? What if you realize you fucking hate it?"

Your breath stutters. "Red." Stop.

"Say it like you mean it."

"Red!"

"Good girl."

He shifts closer, his knees spreading your legs wider, his hand sliding dangerously low along your stomach, stopping just before your core.

"What if," he growls, "I'm slapping your clit, making you sob for it, and you're struggling to breathe?"

You flush so hard your vision blurs.

"Yellow," you stammer.

"Good girl," he praises darkly, the words sliding over your skin like a brand. "Now, what if I'm spanking you... so hard you can't tell if you love it or hate it... and you panic? What do you say?"

"Red!"

"And if you want to fucking leave?"

"Red, Harry, red!"

He pulls back finally, still watching you, chest rising and falling in slow, measured breaths.

"You don't ever sit there like a dumb little doll and hope I notice," he says, voice cold and cutting. "If you feel it, anything, you say it. If you even think about feeling it, you say it. Got it?"

"Yes, Harry," you breathe.

His hand cups your cheek roughly, thumb pressing into the corner of your mouth until you open obediently for him. His face softens, barely, the smallest flicker of reassurance in his gaze.

"Good girl," he mutters. "That's better."

He doesn't touch you right away, just sits there, watching you through hooded eyes, the heat of his body wrapping around you like a heavy blanket. Your chest is still heaving, nerves buzzing just under your skin, but you force yourself to stay still, to breathe. You've earned that tiny nod of approval, the glint of something warmer in his expression. You don't want to lose it now.

"Lie back," he says finally, voice low but not sharp anymore. You obey immediately, heart hammering, limbs trembling a little with the aftershocks of your panic and the brutal interrogation that followed. But he doesn't punish you for it. He doesn't mock you or push. Instead, his hands slide over your thighs, slow and steady, coaxing them apart with a patience that makes your breath hitch.

The first touch of his fingers is almost unbearably gentle, just the barest ghost of contact over your folds, tracing the wetness there like he's reacquainting himself with you. His thumb brushes your clit so lightly you barely feel it, and a broken sound escapes your throat.

"Shh," he murmurs, voice soothing. "We go slow. Yeah?"

You nod, desperate to be good, to show him you can handle it, and he rewards you by pressing a little more firmly, circling your clit in those slow, devastating spirals that make your hips twitch off the bed. His free hand anchors your thigh down, keeping you open, keeping you grounded.

He works you open with maddening care, two fingers sliding in eventually, curling shallowly inside you, his palm keeping constant pressure against your clit. Every movement feels deliberate, measured, for you, not for him. There's none of the bruising pace from before, none of the overwhelming force. Just the steady building of heat, the way your body starts to bloom under his touch.

At one point, you feel his mouth replace his hand, the scrape of his stubble against your inner thigh, the warm flick of his tongue over your clit making you whimper. He's thorough, almost clinical about it, not showy or indulgent, just focused, relentless, coaxing you higher and higher until your body locks up, shuddering through a release so gentle it almost feels like floating. He licks you through it, slow and steady, until you're gasping and twitching under him, pushing weakly at his shoulder.

He pulls back then, finally, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and looks at you, really looks at you, like he's checking that you're still whole.

"You did good," he says quietly as your eyes flutter closed. You feel the mattress shift when he gets up.

You barely register him moving around the room, but when you blink open your heavy eyes, there's a cold bottle of water being pressed into your hand. You clutch it gratefully, gulping it down while he disappears into the ensuite. A few minutes later, he comes back, tosses a towel onto the bed without a word, and jerks his chin toward the open bathroom door.

"Shower's yours."

You stumble toward it on shaky legs, grateful for the excuse to hide your face. His bathroom is ridiculously luxurious, heated floors, fluffy towels, expensive soaps that smell like cedarwood and spice. You take your time, letting the water wash away the sticky remnants of your anxiety, trying to piece yourself back together.

When you return to the bedroom, he's already under the covers, scrolling lazily through his phone like he hasn't just shattered you and stitched you back together in the same hour.

You hesitate for a moment, but he flicks the blanket up wordlessly, making room for you. Your heart swells a little, and you slip in beside him, careful not to touch him unless he invites it.

For a long moment, there's only the soft sounds coming from his phone, the quiet hum of the city outside his window.

But you can't help yourself. The questions bubble up, tentative and trembling, before you can think better of it.

"Harry?" you whisper.

"Hm?"

You pick at the edge of the blanket, voice barely audible. "Are you... seeing other people?"

He doesn't look at you. Just scrolls once more, then locks his phone and sets it on the nightstand. He turns his head toward you.

"No, baby," he says simply. "I told you this arrangement is exclusive. You're the only one."

Your breath catches.

"And... and how often would I... I mean, how often would you want to... see me?"

"Couple times a week. More, if you're okay with that."

"And... the payment?"

He smirks slightly. "We'll work that out. Money. Gifts. You can have whatever you like."

You chew your lip, heart pounding. "And if I... if there's something I can't do? Or I... I can't—"

"You say no," he interrupts bluntly. His voice is firm, leaving no room for misinterpretation. "You use your fucking words. I don't want your obedience unless you're giving it to me freely. Understand?"

You nod quickly, throat tight.

He watches you for a long moment, something shifting in his expression, almost imperceptible. And then, so quietly you almost miss it, he says:

"Don't like when people fake things with me. Had enough of that for a lifetime."

Your heart squeezes painfully in your chest. You don't know the story behind those words. But you know it's not a conversation you're meant to push. Not tonight.

So you just murmur a soft "Okay", and burrow a little closer under the covers.

He doesn't touch you. But he stays close, close enough that the heat of him soaks into your skin, close enough that when you finally drift off, you swear you feel the edge of his pinky finger brush against yours, the smallest, secret tether.

...

thank you so much for reading! i appreciate any and all support so remember to like, comment and reblog. requests are open! 💕

sugar, baby series tag list

@indierockgirrl @prettygurl-2009 @cherryflavoredbyme @dipmeinhoneyh

general tag list

@2601-london @mads3502

...

538 notes · View notes

iatrophilosophos · 9 hours ago

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Some of these things are bizzarely untrue & i don't know enough to say abt the rest--id assume I'm just in a different country than OP but they're using the American program names so... uhhhh.... I've been on snap my entire adult life. "Taking home leftovers" is not in any way SNAP fraud? They literally don't give a shit if u get leftovers from friends, go to food banks/free tables, like. If you get help from friends/family on bills or with buying food they care about THAT but.

& according to a quick Google, all EBT benefits including SNAP roll over??? I've never been in a state where my SNAP didn't roll over. I literally know multiple ppl who have gotten approved for SNAP and not used it bc the dumpstering game was good and racked up over 1k and then spent it down when their situation changed for the more expensive, this is solidly not illegal, some states might take $$ back after a certain amount of time if cards are fully unused but even after ur case is closed/you get kicked off that balance is yours and you get to keep using it.

Selling ur balance for cash is a crime, so is lying about who you do food & share finances with communally, so the spirit of this post is true abt that but I don't think I've ever heard of individuals getting persecuted by it.

Posts like this fucking suck ass bc so many ppl are so hesitant to use benefits like SNAP and food banks bc they hear so much about how terrible they are and it's like, yah the programs are kinda sucky but they aren't "put you in jail for using them" sucky, worst case is you get denied & you're out a few hours of ur time and some psychic damage from dealing with beaurocracy. The ppl who implement these programs are also overworked to fuck burnt out public servants with massive caseloads who truly don't give a fuck about you good or bad and want you out of their hair via the path of least resistance. When you do the interviews they're not grilling you to catch you in a lie it's literally just someone who was trained in the approved way to fill out their stupid little form fixing the arcane ways you inevitably filled it out wrong. It's fine!

Its free money! From the goverment! The amounts suck the purchase type restrictions suck they're not Good programs but for fucks sake if u qualify like...take it! It isn't hard! It's just annoying! Even if u only qualify for $20 a month or something stupid...that's a free take & bake pizza, a side salad and some sodas! Every month! Some farmers markets match snap on produce--THATS $40 OF FREE NICE PRODUCE! If you don't end up getting out to use it that's $80 of produce next month!!

DONT LET CRITIQUES OF HOW CRAPPY THESE PROGRAMS ARE KEEP YOU FROM TAKING FREE MONEY FROM THE GOVERNMEMT. APPLY FOR SNAP NOW

I cannot take "fraud" talk about benefit programs seriously because I know what can get labeled as fraud. Taking a tupperware of leftovers home from a friend's birthday can be argued to be food stamp fraud. Exchanging SNAP for cash is fraud, that makes sense, except in many cases, people will let someone else use their leftover SNAP at the end of the month (it doesn't roll over) in exchange for cash they need for shampoo, toilet paper, Tylenol, or other essentials not covered by SNAP. Paying the nurse or attendant for the full shift even though you asked them to leave early because you wanted to go to bed is fraud, even though the alternative is either they get less pay for no fault of their own, or they have to hang around while you sleep. Meanwhile, paying someone for the full shift when the jobsite has to shut down early is policy in many workplaces. Giving your attendant or nurse cash to go pick up your medicine and letting them keep the change is fraud. In some states packing your kid lunch if you are on free lunch is fraud. Because of how strictly benefits programs are defined and regulated, for the recipients, basic human acts and impulses are defined as fraud.

If people want to talk about benefits fraud, they should be talking about third party administrators, nursing homes, and farms. That's where big ticket fraud that is malicious, deliberate, and with the aim of ripping off the government happens. It's the province of large scale service providers and contractors, not people who use benefits or the workers directly assisting them. So unless you're explicitly talking about that, shut the fuck up about "oh I'm sure there *is* fraud."

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hameesstuff · 3 days ago

Text

"The Space Between Us"

Pairing: husband! jaehyun x wife! reader

Genre: Arranged Marriage | Enemies to Lovers | Smut | Angst | Fluff

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, emotional themes

Word Count : ~3.2k

___________________________________________

A Ring, A Lie, A War Between Us

If silence could kill, the penthouse would be a graveyard.

Jeong Jaehyun sat across from you at the long marble table, sleeves rolled neatly to his elbows, eyes fixed on his phone. Not on you. Never on you.

Not unless he was annoyed.

You poked at your untouched dinner, the clink of silverware the only sound between you.

“I’ll be in Milan next week,” he said, still not looking up.

“And?”

“It’s in our schedule.”

You finally glanced at him. “That’s the first thing you’ve said to me all day.”

He shrugged. “We’re not friends. Just husband and wife, remember?”

Right. Husband and wife.

You were still getting used to that word.

Married. Arranged. Bound by contract and family reputation and the quiet understanding that love would never be part of it.

You both signed the prenup like soldiers signing a war treaty—neutral terms, clean exits, no questions. You even agreed to separate bedrooms. And for the last seven months, it worked.

If avoidance was an art, Jaehyun was a master.

So you retaliated the only way you knew how: coldness.

But that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. Especially when you caught glimpses of the man he used to be—the charming, careful boy you’d met once at a gala before this mess began. Before this version of him showed up with sharp words and colder silences.

You used to wonder what changed him.

Now you just tried not to care.

The turning point came on a Thursday.

You were out late—rarely, because Jaehyun hated “unplanned appearances,” as he called them. But this time, you needed space. Wine. Noise. Maybe even a little danger. Anything but the sterile, suffocating walls of your marriage.

He didn’t ask where you were going.

So you didn’t tell him.

You ended up at a rooftop lounge, laughing over a second drink with someone from a design firm. Not a date. Not really. Just a man who looked at you like you were interesting. Like he wanted to know what made you laugh, not what made you tolerable.

It felt good to be seen.

Until it didn’t.

Until you felt a shadow pass behind you, and then—

“Y/N,” came that low, unmistakable voice. Calm. Controlled.

You turned—and there he was.

Jaehyun. In black. No tie. Hands in his pockets. Rage barely disguised in his eyes.

Your companion stood to greet him, but Jaehyun didn’t even look at him.

“Outside. Now.”

You raised a brow. “Excuse me?”

His jaw clenched. “You heard me.”

“I’m not one of your interns, Jaehyun.”

“No,” he said coolly. “You’re my wife.”

You followed him out of sheer curiosity. And okay—maybe a little because something about that look in his eyes made your pulse stutter.

He stopped at the empty corridor beside the terrace, turning to face you.

“What the hell was that?”

You crossed your arms. “A conversation. With a man who doesn’t pretend I don’t exist.”

His nostrils flared. “You’re wearing our ring.”

“Barely,” you scoffed. “You treat this marriage like a business transaction. So why do you care who I talk to?”

He stepped forward, slow. Dangerous. “Because you’re mine.”

You froze.

The words hit hard. Deep. Like a live wire between your ribs.

He seemed startled too. But he didn’t back away.

“And I hate the way he was looking at you,” he added, voice rough. “Like he could touch what’s mine.”

You stared at him, breath caught.

"You don’t get to claim me now,” you said, breath trembling.

Jaehyun stared at you like he wasn’t hearing what he expected.

“Maybe I should’ve from the beginning.”

The silence stretched between you—sharp, breathless. Then he stepped closer, eyes unreadable.

“I’ve done everything to keep this clean,” he said, voice low. “Uncomplicated. Distant.”

“And it worked,” you snapped. “We’re perfect strangers. Congratulations.”

“I thought that’s what you wanted.”

“I didn’t want this!” you shouted. “I didn’t want to be invisible to my own husband!”

His jaw clenched, but he didn’t reply.

You turned to leave—but his hand shot out, catching your wrist.

“Don’t walk away.”

You glared at him. “Why? So you can go back to ignoring me tomorrow?”

His hand loosened, but his voice dropped—rough, desperate.

“I saw him touching you,” he said. “Laughing with you. Like you were his.”

“And why does that bother you?” you whispered.

He didn’t answer.

So you pushed. “You hate me, remember?”

“I don’t hate you,” he said. “I hate that I want you and don’t know how to have you.”

The world fell silent.

You didn’t know who kissed who first. It didn’t matter. One second you were glaring, and the next—your mouths collided, all teeth and tongue and months of resentment crashing like waves.

His hands were in your hair. Yours clutched his coat like you’d fall without it. When his mouth dragged down your throat, biting, you gasped.

“We’re in public—”

“Car. Now.”

___________________________________________

You didn’t speak on the ride home. Not with words.

But his hand stayed on your thigh the entire time, fingertips grazing just enough to make your breath hitch. You reached down and dragged his hand higher—just to see him lose his composure.

The second the front door shut, he had you against it.

“You drive me insane,” he growled.

You laughed, breathless. “You deserve it.”

He kissed you again, deeper this time—possessive. The kind that made your knees buckle.

Clothes peeled away in pieces. You shoved his shirt over his head. He spun you toward the wall, grinding his hips against your bare backside, groaning into your neck.

“You’ve been mine this whole time,” he murmured, “and I’ve been so fucking stupid.”

“Then show me,” you whispered.

He did.

He carried you to the bedroom—his, not yours. Laid you out on the bed like a promise.

“I’ve wanted this since the day we signed that contract,” he admitted, hovering over you, eyes dark.

You blinked up at him. “Then why did you hate me?”

“I didn’t,” he said. “I hated that I wanted you when I didn’t think you wanted me back.”

Your breath caught.

Then he kissed you like he meant it. This time, slower. A hand on your cheek. One sliding down to cup your thigh, lifting it over his hip as he pressed into you.

The stretch of him was perfect. Deep. You moaned into his mouth, clinging to him.

He moved slowly at first, eyes locked to yours.

“I want to hear you,” he said. “All of it. Every sound you make when it’s me.”

You gave him everything.

Every gasp, every cry, every broken syllable of his name as he thrust deeper, harder. You writhed beneath him, legs trembling, nails dragging down his back.

“I should’ve claimed you sooner,” he panted. “I should’ve never pretended not to want you.”

When you came, it was with his name in your mouth and his hands holding you like you’d fall apart.

He followed right after, collapsing onto you with a guttural moan and shuddering breath.

___________________________________________

You expected him to leave after.

You expected the silence again. The cold.

But he didn’t move.

Instead, Jaehyun stayed curled against you, arms wrapped around your waist, face buried in your shoulder like he couldn’t get close enough.

“I never thought I deserved you,” he said quietly. “Not when I came into this with a closed heart.”

You turned to face him. “Why?”

“Because I was angry,” he confessed. “At the world. At my parents. At myself for letting them use us like pawns.”

“But I’m not them.”

“I know that now.”

You hesitated. Then pressed a soft kiss to his temple.

“I never hated you,” you said. “I just hated how lonely it felt to love you.”

His eyes widened.

“You… love me?”

“I didn’t want to,” you admitted. “But I couldn’t help it.”

He pulled you into his chest, arms tightening.

“I’ll make it right,” he promised. “Starting now.”

EPILOGUE:

Two months later, your shared bedroom was no longer just his.

There were flowers on the windowsill. Two toothbrushes. Your favorite tea in the kitchen cabinet—because he’d memorized the brand.

You woke up to him every morning, arms tangled, warmth shared. He no longer traveled without telling you. He sent photos, videos, little messages that made you laugh even on hard days.

And some nights, when the world went quiet, Jaehyun would pull you close and whisper:

“I still remember the first night I saw you smile for someone else. It wrecked me.”

You’d kiss him gently.

“And now?” you’d ask.

He’d smile, soft and rare. “Now I make sure you never have to smile for someone else again.”

___________________________________________

Feedback is welcome :)

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visionsofyouandme · 2 days ago

Text

The Buyer

𝚜𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚜: Joel sells an item on Facebook Marketplace, and meets you in the process.

𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 2.6k

𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜/𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚜: No Outbreak!Joel Miller x F!Reader. Meet cute. Fluff. No use of y/n. Reader has no physical descriptions but is mentioned to be shorter than Joel. Age gap (I imagine reader is late 20s-early 30s, Joel is late 40s-early 50s). Sarah and Tommy mentioned/appear. Shy!Joel. Thirsty!Reader (same). Happy and hopeful ending (cause that’s what JM deserves). NOT proofread (sorry!).

𝙰/𝙽: This wouldn't have come about if a good friend hadn't recommended this lil plot to me. It's so sweet and helped mend my heart a little after episode 2. Hope you enjoy and happy reading! <3

“I got a buyer.”

Tommy looked up from his sandwich, mid-chew.

“Okay?”

“Granddad’s old clock. Somebody wants it.”

Joel said, eyebrows furrowed as he typed out a response, setting up a time for the exchange.

“You got some kind of crotchety collector coming to haggle you?” Tommy questioned.

How about tomorrow at 1 I can send you the address

Perfect! Yeah, I can do that :)

…

Do you want cashapp or venmo?

“What the hell is a venmo?” Joel questioned, his face stern and serious. Tommy chuckled, taking a sip of his soda.

“It’s like cashapp, it’s another money transfer service.”

Can we do cash? I don’t have the vemno

Sure! I’ll see you tomorrow at 1 with cash in hand. Thanks, Joel!

Joel set down his phone, and Tommy looked at Joel, then glanced at his phone, noticing his initial question going unanswered. He raised his eyebrows as Joel dug into his sandwich again.

“Is she pretty?”

“What makes you say that?” Joel questioned, mouth full of sandwich. The brothers were far beyond propriety, especially in the middle of a workday, starving to death.

“Well, it’s not an old guy if they ask for venmo. And, you have that look about you when you see someone pretty. Hard to not notice, brother.”

Joel’s eyes flickered to his phone, and Tommy knew he caught him. Joel would never admit it, of course, but Tommy knew his brother.

“Well, I hope the sale goes well.” Tommy mused, grabbing his mini bag of chips and opening them up as Joel still kept his gaze on the phone, like he was waiting for another response.

Maybe he was. He’d never admit to it, though.

You pulled up to Joel Miller’s residence, glancing at your GPS to confirm it was the right location. Sure enough, it was, and the house was nice and modest with a clean cut lawn and an old truck in the driveway.

You pulled beside the curb and got out, squinting in the sunlight despite your sunglasses. You heard a door shut, and saw a figure emerge from the open garage. You waved, and he held up a hand back in greeting.

“Afternoon, sir!” You called, walking up the driveway. “Joel, right?”

He confirmed his identity, questioning you warily and you grinned. When you came to the threshold of the garage, you took off your sunglasses and perched them on your head.

“The one and only. Good to meet you, Joel.” you said, and damn, the picture on Facebook did him no justice. Granted, it was a long shot of him and a young woman at the beach, not giving much detail. But, you found his face and body appealing.

Really, really appealing.

“Yeah, you too.” he said. You looked to the side, seeing the clock standing not too far away. Your eyes lit up, and you looked at Joel,

“May I?” you questioned. Joel nodded, and you walked further into the garage, looking over the large grandfather clock in all of it’s glory. It was beautiful- excellent craftsmanship, and everything looked somewhat intact. Just needed some fine tuning to get it working again.

“It’s beautiful. I have the money, but do you have change?” you questioned, pulling open the case’s glass door and looking inside. Truly a testament of art and science, and you wondered how old it could be. Judging by style alone, it could be anywhere from 75 to 100 years old. You’d have to take a closer look to be sure.

“Yeah, I do.” Joel said, and you looked over at him and saw him looking out of the garage.

“That your car?” he questioned, nodding to it, his arms crossed. You nodded, standing straight and carefully closing the glass door.

“Sure is.”

“You ain’t gettin’ that clock in that tiny thing.” he said, and you rolled your eyes.

“I’ll manage. It’s a smooth ride, perfect for keeping the inside intact.” You said, and he looked over at you with a firm expression, lips pursed. If you didn’t know any better, you thought he was mad at you.

“It’s too big.” he said, and you sighed exasperatingly, turning and walking to his side to look at your little sedan.

“It’s all I’ve got. I’ve got to make do, can’t pass up an oppurtunity like this.” you said, rubbing your forehead in thought. It really was a grand clock, and you weren’t exactly sure how big it was, but you were slowly realizing there was no way it was going to fit in your car.

Shit.

Joel was silent next to you, and you could pretty much hear the gears working in his head. You glanced at him, your eyes flashing down to his wrist where you saw a black watch on his wrist. It was old, and upon looking at it for a few seconds, you noticed it wasn’t ticking and had a slight crack in the glass. You looked forward, and eyed his truck in the driveway. You opened your mouth to speak, forming the proposal in your mind in a second, until he spoke,

“I can take it to your place. It’s gonna be too heavy to lift on your own, anyway.” he said evenly, and you looked up at him, raising your eyebrows.

“You sure?” you questioned, and your eyes moved down to the watch again.

“I can fix that watch for you for repayment.” You added, and he looked down at his wristwatch, then at you with guarded brown eyes.

“You fixin’ clocks or somethin’?”

“Yeah, I’m a horologist.”

Joel looked at you, a bit of surprise in his eyes, his eyebrows shooting up. You shook your head,

“You know, a clockmaker. Fixer. Whatever- Yes, I do.” you said, waving your hand. He regarded you for a moment, and then turned to you with his arms still crossed. Deinitely guarded, definitely wary of you.

“You’d do that?”

“For free, sure. If you help me get this bad boy in my apartment I’ll do it for your trouble.” You offered, and looked at him with a smile. You saw something in his eyes soften a bit, his shoulders droop a bit, his lips loosen-

Whoops. Okay, don’t linger too long on that, you thought to yourself.

“It ain’t trouble,” he said, his voice more quiet, soft, intimate. “But, it’s a deal.”

He stuck out his hand, and you took it without hesitation, giving his hand a firm shake. It was warm, calloused and rough, a working man’s hands. Strong. Capable. Attractive.

Something about an older man with strong hands and disposition just got your blood pumping.

Also, your attention to detail noticed no wedding ring.

Interesting.

Dropping his hand, you spoke, “You can come by Friday, if you want-”

“How about today? I’m already off work for the day.” he questioned, and you shrugged almost immediately.

“Sure. Don’t see why not.” You said grinning. Joel gave a nod, and then looked at the clock hesitantly. Like he was second guessing the sale.

“Hey,” you said, grabbing his attention. “It’s going to good hands. Promise.”

“It was my granddad’s. His dad’s before him.” he said, and you nodded. Most clocks like this were family heirlooms, and you were surprised at this reveal that he was selling it.

“You sure you wanna sell it?” you questioned, a bit disheartened at not being able to buy it, but if it meant more to Joel than just a clock, you’d easily give it up. Joel nodded, his eyes flickering to it once more before walking to his work desk and began pulling out ratchet straps to secure the clock in his truck.

It really was a two person job, but this was expected. Still, you and Joel got it in and secured to the truck bed, and Joel swung himself over the edge of the truck, landing on his feet.

Yeah, that was hot.

You nodded, clapping your hands together,

“I’ll send you the address, or you can follow me.”

“I’ll follow you.”

You nodded, bidding him a short goodbye before walking to your car, no longer hiding your grin as you turned on the ignition.

Joel pulled up to the house, relieved it was only in the next neighborhood from his, about 10 minutes away. He pulled in backwards into your driveway, facing the garage. He climbed out just as the garage door opened, and he saw quite a scene before him. It looked similiar to his own garage and workshop- and he knew what you would say if he questioned it’s organization.

“There’s a method to the madness,” he would tell people. He was sure you’d say the same.

You walked over and took off your sunglasses, Joel watching you as you walked over to your main workbench and set them down. He noticed coffee mugs, plenty of tools and small pieces of metal of various shapes and sized. There was a space in the middle of the garage where he assumed the clock would go. Turning to him and smiling brightly, he looked down and then climbed onto the bed of the truck, undoing the straps. He could feel your gaze on him, and he was thankful the Austin heat already had him flushed.

He wasn’t used to the attention of a woman, much less someone as pretty and personable as you. He knew he must be delusional, thinking he noticed your lingering looks around and at him. But, he noticed you look back in your rearview mirror several times on the way over, making sure he was right behind you.

Since you both experienced it together, getting it off was easier than putting it on. You slowly set it upright, and Joel took off the blanket surrounding it to keep the glass from breaking. You took a step back, and grinned.

“It’s perfect.”

“What are you gonna do with it?” he questioned, hoping you weren’t going to repaint it into a beige or white mess, stripping it of it’s uniqueness. He was unsure, even still, of if he wanted to do this or not. But, he looked at your face and saw a softness to it, admiring like it was something precious, which it was. To Joel, anyway.

“Fix it up, get it ticking again. Shine up the wood, get rid of the dust, maybe replaced the glass with something like stained glass.” you mused, your hands on your hips that he realized you were mirroring from him. He cleared his throat, nodding and stood straight. He looked down at his own watch, the one Sarah got for him when he turned 36. It had seen so much love and attention, and he still wore it despite the crack from wear and the absence of the ticking.

Another sentimental piece. But, Joel would never, ever part with this one.

You finally broke from your stare at the clock and walked to your car, retrieving your bag and walked back to Joel’s side, handing the wad of cash over. He looked down at it, and hesitated, then shook his head.

“Keep it. Fixing this will be more than enough payment.” he said, looking down at the watch on his wrist. He looked at you, surprised to find you so close. He could see the rise and fall of your chest, the sunlight reflecting in your eyes, the slight persperation on your temples. All of it just echoing how much of a beautiful young woman you were.

Sarah would tease him about staring, and wiggle her eyebrows at him. He could hear her encouraging words in his ear, “Don’t just stand there, say something!”

“Of course. I can have it done by next week. Gotta measure the glass out, get it ordered, find a battery that I’m sure I have, do some other lowkey maintenance…” you said, rambling on and Joel just watched, a small smile forming on his face.

It had been a minute since he’s been in the presence of someone like you. Someone kind, open, giving. Pretty. Effortless. Helpful.

He’d only known you for an hour and he could go on.

Maybe he should just take the jump. Worst you could say is no.

“I’ll take you out to dinner as a “thank you,”” he said, and he could see the surprise bloom on your face, eyebrows raising and lips parted.

“I… Joel, I’m fixing it as a payment for you-”

“And I’ll say thank you. Over dinner.” he said, and he suddenly felt his stomach drop at your lack of response. It was like you were a deer in the headlights, taken completely by surprise.

Maybe this was a mistake. He should have just taken the money, forget about the watch-

“Okay.” you said, and he was ripped from his thoughts like a bandaid. All in one swift motion, relief following.

“I’ll, uh, pick you up. There’s a good Mexican place in town. Great taquitos.” he said, and you nodded, glancing around as if considering the offer.

“Sure. But I don’t think I wanna wait until next week. How about Saturday?”

“Deal.” Joel said, and you looked at him with an amused expression.

“Wanna shake on it?” you teased, and Joel rolled his eyes.

“Ha, ha. Saturday, at 6.” he said, and you nodded. He began to walk away, and you called out to him.

“The watch.” you said, and he paused, looking down and then walked back to you. He slowly undid the leather strap, and waited a moment before handing it to you. Your fingers brushed, and you held it with such care with both hands. His hand lingered over yours, then let it drop.

“I’ll take good care of it, Joel. Promise.” you said, smiling lightly. He nodded, lifting his eyes to meet yours. He felt something within himself relax, come together to release some tension, like a rubberband that had been released from it’s stretch.

“Thank you.” he said quietly. You nodded, and you both stood in your garage, holding each other’s gaze until Joel looked away, smiling sheepishly.

“Saturday. 6.”

“You’re picking me up.” you stated. He nodded, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I’ll see you then.” he said, beginning to back up. You were about to say somethign when his back hit his truck, and he winced. You stifled a giggle, and bit your lower lip.

“I’ll see you then, Joel.” you replied, and turned, walking to your workbench and sat down, laying out Joel’s watch tenderly, turning on the lamp next to you.

He felt giddy, and quickly climbed into his truck and put a hand on the steering wheel, exhaling sharply through his nose.

That ghost of a smile lingered on his face, the hope of Saturday carrying him all the way home.

Thank you for reading! Drop a like, comment, or reblog. Love hearing from you guys <33 Divider by @/saradika-graphics !

#joel miller #joel tlou #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x ofc #tlou hbo #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal #visionsfics #no outbreak!joel miller #joel miller fluff #hbo joel miller

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revelboo · 2 days ago

Note

Oh Glorious Revelboo,

May I humbly request more Alcohol Eyes or Weakends if you're up for it?

Oh, or the reverse sparked scenario for Ratchet was so good! A lot of them have been so fun but Ratchet's just so <3333

He's been through so much he deserves to settle and have a little family !!!

The concern for reader at the end was so sweet, I love that not so grumpy medic <333

I do love some grumpy, but soft Ratchet. 🔞 Mass displaced mechs 🌶️

Alcohol Eyes Pt 14

Rumble x Reader, Frenzy x Reader

• Fantastic sex does not a relationship make, you remind yourself as they both sit up. Of course, it doesn’t hurt, either. Raking your fingers through your hair, you try to figure out how to ask what this is between you and them. Are they just fooling around? Scratching a xenophilia itch with you? “We have great sex,” you say and Rumble immediately grins, though Frenzy at least looks worried like he knows there’s a ‘but’ coming. “But is that it? Just sex?”

• “What’s wrong with just sex?” Rumble mutters and Frenzy jabs his elbow into him. Hard. “We get along, don’t we?” He asks, changing tactics. And you blow out a breath. Not even a smile? Swallowing a groan because he doesn’t like when you’re serious or worried or whatever this is. Likes you smiling and laughing. Teasing him. Pushing to his peds, he reaches for you and you rock back a step. And it hurts. “We get along. You and us. It doesn’t need to be complicated.” Hand hanging there between you, he wants you to reach out to him and you don’t.

• Why are you so worried all of a sudden? Why the shift? ‘And when you get bored?’ You ask, voice soft. And there it is. “You think we’re going to get tired of you and just get rid of you?” Frenzy growls and you turn when he stands and grips your upper arm. Sees your eyes dart to his hand on you and then up to his face and he gentles his grip. “We’re keeping you, bonding and sparking you.” Because you’re theirs and he’s never giving up this feeling, the warmth that spreads through his spark when you laugh, eyes all mischief. The feel of you sleeping against him. The sound of your voice whispering to him after overloading inside you.

• “Sparking?” You ask. Bonding and sparking sounds like it might be ‘important alien things’ that you definitely need to ask about, but Rumble moves up behind you, hands on your hips to nudge you forward until you’re sandwiched between them. ‘You want us to spark you? Have our sparklings?’ Rumble growls in your ear. Is he talking about kids? You’re two different species, so he’s going to get that bubble burst pretty quick. ‘Claim you as ours for life.’ Can feel his erect spike rub against your butt as you stare up at Frenzy. Trying to remember that you really need to ask questions. “For life?” You latch onto that. Is it messed up that you want to claim them as yours, keep them even knowing you can’t give them what they want. Can’t possibly give them sparklings, you’re just way too different for that to work.

• You like that idea, don’t you? Being claimed as theirs. Hands sliding over your hips and down between your thighs to stroke you, you arch up on tiptoes, head back against his shoulder and Rumble grins at his brother. “We’re not giving you up and we’re not getting tired of you,” Frenzy says, cupping your face in his hands as his mouth claims yours. ‘You’re stuck with us, sweetspark,’ Rumble laughs, servo pressing deep to make you squirm.

#transformers x reader #rumble x reader #frenzy x reader #idw frenzy #idw rumble #valveplug

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itzpookiepooh · 1 day ago

Text

Uncomfortable

You hate change (I hate change)

Caleb knew it well how much you hated change. You hated it so much that it made you cry. Today you needed to replace your mattress that you were oh so happy with. You could sleep in it and that’s all that mattered. So when you absolutely had to get a new one you were a good sport about it. You let them bring it in and you let Caleb put it together. Everything was fine until it was time to sleep in it.

You got cozy and laid there for a few minutes before you burst into tears. Caleb was so confused because you did well the whole day. He comforted you as best he could. He felt bad but he couldn’t have you sleeping like that for much longer. You bawled like you’ve never bawled before making Caleb worried. He grabs your face so you’ll look at him.

“I don’t want a new bed.” You cried as fat tears rolled down your cheeks and his hands. He cooed before pulling you into him. Sadly, the bed was already gone.

“The bed was messed up, pips. I’m sorry.” He rocks you side to side trying to calm you down.

When you do calm down, you tell yourself it’s not that bad. You just needed to cry first and it may have taken a while especially with having to break the bed in however, you got use to it. Caleb was so happy that you warmed up to the bed or else he would’ve had to drag it from the curb.

Xavier watched as you stared at your new pillows that he convinced you to buy. Your old ones were as flat as a SIM card and hurt your neck. You missed your old ones that were just across the room. You laid on them and they were comfortable but you had that nagging feeling. You were making yourself uncomfortable just thinking about getting them earlier.

You had changed your mind as soon as it felt real. You picked them up just to put them back down again. You didn’t want them nor did you want to change a part of something you were comfortable in. Xavier explained to you that you’d really mess your neck up trying to sleep on the old ones. You tried that night to sleep on them and it wasn’t the best night sleep—you could admit but you kept the old pillows on the bed just in case.

“It’s alright. The first night is always the hardest, I’ll be with you every step of the way.” He reassures you as he lays with you the second night.

“I’ll try again.” You answer softly. It took a few nights before these pillows became your favorite. Xavier was just happy that your neck wouldn’t hurt anymore.

You decided to face this overbearing fear of change and rearrange your room. The room had been the exact same since you moved in and you refused to change it. You got this burst of needing something different so you moved everything. All was well, bedtime, morning routine but suddenly that change felt uncomfortable.

When Rafayel came home he saw you moving the mattress back where it originally was. He slowly blinks at your actions. Didn’t you just move everything yesterday? You had a determined look on your face as you moved everything. He didn’t argue with you he knows how you get. Instead of asking questions he helps you put everything back.

“Didn’t like it?” He finally asks when it’s over, your exhausted bodies falling onto the mattress.

“Hated it.” You pant making him chuckle. He didn’t mind you thought this way because he of all people knew change was a hard thing to overcome.

You got a laptop for Christmas one year from Zayne. It became your favorite thing in the world. You would watch all your favorite videos on it. You took great care of it too! Zayne was glad you loved his gift and he loved seeing you smile every time you used it. That is until it broke, the second time. The first time was an easy fix since you sent it back to be fixed and all was well for a while.

This time it broke and wouldn’t turn back on. A ping sounded and it never came back on. This devastated you and you cried for a long time. This was your laptop and you loved it so much. Yeah it may have had its complications but it was your baby. You even tried to unscrew it and fix it yourself to which Zayne stopped you. He went with you to have it looked at and the people at the shop were very kind. They didn’t feel right taking money from you not knowing if they could even fix something this expensive.

“I just want my laptop.” You cried as Zayne comforted you on the couch. He knew how much this disheartened you.

“I know but they can’t fix it. Things get old and stop working. We’ll find you a new one.” He reassured you, wiping those tear stained cheeks.

You searched and searched for a computer that looked similar to your old one. You quit a few times saying you’ll just pay them whatever to fix whatever. Endless sad nights and you were even more upset because you couldn’t watch anything new on anything else but your beloved laptop. This was until you found the perfect laptop. It was from the same company and it looked similar to yours! You bought it so quick and when it came you were nervous that you’d hate it. You ended up absolutely adoring it.

“Feel better?” Zayne asks kissing your temple as you nod enthusiastically. He was happy you were happy. You did however keep the old one just in case and Zayne didn’t bother to ask about it.

Sylus is willing to make your life 100 times easier if you tell him to. So imagine him when you had to get rid of your raggedy old fan. You lost the cover of it in a move, it was stained beyond repair and the nail in the coffin? It began to make this clicking noise you just couldn’t stop. It has fallen over many times too many to count honestly Sylus has tried many times before to get you to get a new one. He offered to buy whatever you found and liked. You told him simply, you don’t like change.

You hated the noise and the temporary fix was to tie a fuzzy sock around it. You had enough and went to get a new one. You were in the aisle iffy about every single one you saw. You didn’t want to do this anymore. You love that fan, why can’t it just act right? Sylus showed you powerful ones and ones similar to your old one.

You settled on one and took it home and boy was it quiet and powerful. You were so happy and so was Sylus because it couldn’t possibly live through seeing that fan much longer. He was happy that you found something that fit you. He snapped his fingers making the fan disappear to the trash outside with a smile.

“Good riddance.” He smirked before getting ready for bed. You slept soundly that night cuddled into Sylus. He won’t lie he was in love with the fan too.

These are personal experiences? 😅🌚

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stevieschrodinger · 2 days ago

Text

Part One Thirteen

NSFW

“You want to listen to it while we fuck?”

“Ah, no, honestly I’ve jerked off to that song so many times now I’ve Pavloved myself and I’ll come in three minutes and twenty four seconds exactly.”

Eddie laughs. He can’t help it, which is silly really, considering he has his hands down the back of Steve’s pants. He can’t stop laughing, face pressed against Steve's solid chest, shoulders shaking with laughter. Steve’s ass is meaty and solid in Eddie’s hands, and Steve just wraps his arms around Eddie and waits for him to get it out of his system.

Eddie thinks he’s done laughing, but when he finally looks up and sees how serious Steve’s face is, he cracks all over again. Steve’s laughing with him now though, finally losing it, his chest moving against Eddie’s cheek.

It finally tails off, Eddie sighing, letting himself relax into Steve’s arms. He gives Steve’s ass a little jiggle. It’s a good ass. He can feel Steve scenting at the top of his head, that’s followed by a very firm chin rub, right across the top of Eddie’s head, Steve’s throat rubbing across Eddie’s face.

If Steve was an Alpha, it would be a definite declaration. If Steve were an Alpha, Eddie might have even reflexively tried to stop it from happening. Steve’s not though, so it just leaves Eddie with his soft Beta scent in his nose, and a sense of loose calm spreading all the way to his fingertips.

It’s different, that scent. Completely sets itself apart from every experience Eddie’s ever had. There’s no cross over, nothing from sense memory to send him back anywhere unpleasant. Just a fresh start, right under his nose, literally and figuratively. It’s a sobering thought though, and it’s not anything they’ve ever spoken about before; suddenly it feels relevant, “I’ve been with a lot of people, you know that, right?”

“Can we not discuss it when you’ve got your hands down my pants?” Steve answers, but he’s smiling, light and unbothered.

“Actually, I feel like every single conversation we have from this point on should be conducted with my hands down your pants.”

Steve snorts a laugh, looking away for a second to gather himself, Eddie gives Steve’s ass a jiggle, and Steve sighs, but it’s mock put upon and Steve's still smiling, “I know you’ve been with a lot of people, but the past is the past...it doesn’t change anything now. We both have a past, and we’ve both done things we’re not proud of...but I don’t see why it should hurt either of us now. Not when we’ve both come so far, you know?”

“Yeah but...you’re not the one out of us that’s fucked, like, a thousand people. I’d understand if...that was a problem.”

Steve sniggers, “pretty sure you haven't fucked a thousand people...but. Since we’re talking about it,” Steve suddenly tilts his head, looking proud of himself, “you’re probably fondling the guy with the highest body count in his high school and college.”

Eddie can only shake his head fondly, “so you’re okay with it?”

“Yeah, I’m okay with it. It’ll be different because it’s us.”

“Pretty sure there’s a finite number of ways to fuck and I’ve already hit ‘em all, sorry.”

Steve huffs, “firstly, I didn’t mean that literally, and you know it...and secondly…” Steve leans forward, takes Eddie’s mouth slow, soft. Gentle touches of tongue until Eddie opens up and lets Steve in. Steve pulls back, leaving soft, pecking kisses on Eddie’s lips, he uses the waist of Eddie’s pants to pull Eddie closer, both of them hard and pressing together. He whispers against Eddie’s mouth, “so you’ve had someone hold your hand and look into your eyes the whole time while they fuck you deep and slow?”

Steve follows it with a harsh, dirty grind, pressing them together. Eddie makes a breathy noise that he will deny for the rest of his life, “no?” he finally manages, weak and whispery. No ones fucked Eddie, not ever. It’s probably the one thing he’s never done.

“It’ll be different then, won’t it?” Steve whispers.

“Jesus,” Eddie looks away. Can’t possibly keep looking at Steve or he might explode or something. He chooses to scent Steve instead, chooses to try and retake a little control by letting his Alpha out for a minute, being a little territorial. He rubs his scent thoroughly across Steve’s neck and shoulder. Steve just takes it, letting Eddie work it out of his system before he settles into Steve’s hold again. Just, standing there, holding one another.

“I kind of imagined this differently,” Eddie admits quietly. They’re rocking together now, no music, just swaying slowly in each others arms in the middle of the room.

“Yeah?”

“Uh hu...I, uhm, imagined making it really special.” When Steve wasn’t in the picture, Eddie just liked to imagine simple things. Liked to comfort himself with sad but easy imaginings of Steve kissing him goodnight. Now, since they’ve been together, Eddie’s been imagining much more explicit scenarios very regularly. It doesn’t help that Steve has made them ‘take it slow’ and Eddie could die of blue balls at literally any moment.

Steve grins down at him, “so eating our weight in snacks at Gareth’s isn’t your idea of romancing me? Honestly I’m glad, I was at least expecting dinner-”

Eddie huffs at him. They’ve had a nice day. Steve clicked with the guys straight away, and Eddie can’t really express how glad he is that they all get on. Eddie was pretty sure they would; the guys are easy going and Steve is...well, Steve about everything.

But still, even though Eddie got teased pretty relentlessly, he’s calling today a win. The guys knew who Steve was, kind of. Even with Eddie’s recovery going strong, they knew something was up. Something other than the whole dealing with alcoholism and drug addiction and figuring out how to move on with his life despite all of that. The guys still knew.

They knew Eddie was pining. And Eddie didn’t know really, how to explain that he’d kind of fallen in love with some guy he spent less than two weeks with. Some guy who, actually, was a total professional through the whole thing and just...shouldn’t have attracted that kind of attention.

Completely Eddie’s fault that he caught feelings.

A guy who had to distance himself from Eddie because of Eddie’s own stupid choices. And, if Eddie’s being honest, for Eddie’s own good.

Gareth and Jeff seemed to get it though, when Eddie explained. Even though Steve was a guy, and Steve was a Beta, Steve was still just...Steve. And Chrissy still didn’t seem to believe that Eddie’s feelings were really real, not for a while, at least. But months later, when Eddie was still missing Steve and ended up, one really, really fucking tough and lonely night, writing Boy Scout...she seemed to get it after that.

They all got it, once they heard Eddie sing it, playing his acoustic for the recording. Eddie had struggled through tears for the recording, made his voice sound even more rough, harsh and undeniably brimming with emotion. That's the recording that made it to the album though. That's the one they used.

They all knew then, how Eddie felt. And if record sales are anything to go by, a truly considerable number of people also know how Eddie feels about Steve. Even if they don’t know who Steve is.

Eddie’s going to do his best to keep it that way; but they know they can’t keep it a secret forever.

These things have a way of coming out.

He didn’t need the guys spending all day teasing him for mooning over Steve, though. Steve had absently linked their fingers together at one point. Steve had been mid conversation, and Eddie happened to be standing next to him..and Steve just, took his hand. Like a totally normal, affectionate boyfriend would. Eddie hadn’t known what to do with himself, not really, he’s still getting used to being treated this way, and for it to happen in front of the guys...well, Eddie’s sure he’d been blushing like a virgin.

And then Steve had lifted their joined hands, and pressed a soft kiss Eddie’s knuckles.

Again, no thought to it whatsoever, just easy affection. The guys had all clocked it, staring at them. Eddie’s pretty sure he’d gone red as a tomato, but, thankfully, despite all the knowing looks they’d thrown his way, the guys had been merciful and not said anything.

Probably because they all seemed to like Steve so much.

“No...when I was daydreaming about this I wanted to whisk you away to Italy.”

Steve goes still, holding Eddie tight but leaning back, a hand in Eddie’s hair pulling Eddie around to look at him, “tell me about it.”

Eddie immediately pulls free and goes back to hiding, resting on Steve’s shoulder now, “you know, usual daydream stuff. Private jet. Roses. Strawberries and champagne, that kind of thing. Well, not the champagne but you get the idea. Rent a villa for a week, somewhere really nice. Take you to see all the places you want. Naturally I’d let you do all the talking, and I’d be incredibly impressed.”

“Well I do my best for the green owl...and I am absolutely terrible at taking my PTO, and the gym is pretty kind with it’s time off, I’ve probably got loads.”

Eddie pulls back, “wait...you’d let me take you?”

Steve smiles, kissing Eddie’s nose, “just this once. I’m not waiting until we’re in Europe to have sex though, just to be clear.”

It’s not really the done thing, when there’s a Beta in the mix, and it’s selfish to ask. Steve isn’t built the same as Alpha and Omega, when Steve bites Eddie, Eddie’s going to feel mated. He’s going to feel good; he’s going to be so flooded with endorphins he’s probably going to have one of the best orgasms of his life.

All Steve is going to feel is pain.

But Eddie is selfish, and he can’t resist, and so when the need suddenly rises up inside him, he asks anyway, leaning back in so his nose is practically pressed to Steve’s barely there scent gland, “you going to bite me, one day? Let me...bite you?”

“Only if you let me put a ring on it.”

Eddie doesn’t even need to think, “deal.”

“I want to get married outside,” Steve tells him, bending down and dislodging Eddie’s hands, hooking him under the thighs and lifting.

Eddie is an Alpha, he should not get off on being manhandled. He finds himself getting off on being manhandled, since it’s Steve, “that doesn’t surprise me in the slightest.”

Steve walks them over to the bed, throwing Eddie bodily into the middle somewhere, Eddie bouncing a little on the mattress, “late spring? Early summer?”

“Just as long as it’s not too hot, I don’t mind. Whatever you want.”

“Robin will be my best man,” Steve says, pulling his shirt off over his head.

Eddie stares at Steve’s bare chest, “I don’t want to talk abut your best friend right this second, funnily enough,” but Steve’s grinning, stripping off, then crawling nude up the bed, grabbing Eddie’s pants and boxers and peeling everything off in one smooth move.

Eddie pulls his shirt off, and then he’s naked. And Steve’s naked, kneeling at the bottom of the bed. And...they’re staring at each other. Steve is like...a golden fucking Adonis. He’s toned in the way you only really get when you have an active job. His chest is hairy, his skin is golden, and he’s got more moles than Eddie could have predicted but Eddie wants to find and take note of every single one of them.

Eddie’s still a little on the skinny side, he’s pale and his muscle is ropy rather than strong like Steve but...he doesn’t look ill any more. Doesn’t look sickly like he did at his lowest point.

Steve seems to like what he sees, if his cock standing to attention is anything to go by.

“Lube? Condoms?”

“Yeah,” Eddie points vaguely at the bedside table.

Steve crawls over there, rummaging, and Eddie felt like he was aiming too high when he bought supplies. Kind of felt like he was tempting fate, that the moment they got delivered Eddie would somehow be immediately punished for wanting this.

Steve grins when he sees what’s in the drawer, pulling out both boxes. They’re both brand new and sealed, and Steve peels the cellophane off both, one box of Alpha condoms, one box of regular. “You want to try?” Steve asks, holding up the regular kind.

“We could.” Eddie’s thought about it a fair bit, since the very first time Steve mentioned it, and he figures if there’s one person he’d be willing to try this with, it’s Steve.

“We don’t have to, we don’t ever have to.”

“Do you like it?”

“I...do. But I could live without it,” Steve answers honestly, or at least, Eddie hopes it’s honest. He’s got no idea how this will go. But it’s best they give it a try...Eddie can’t imagine that Steve is the kind of guy who would end a relationship over it...but he doesn’t really want to risk Steve becoming unsatisfied because Eddie won’t ever let him top. It feels like a small sacrifice to make.

“Then lets try, I’m about as far from my rut as I can be, my cycle’s leveled out...so it’s probably the best time to try for the first time.”

Steve nods, crawling back over, leaving a single condom and the lube next to them, “you should probably be on top though, for this first one, just in case.”

“Okay,” Eddie might be familiar enough now with Steve and his scent that he’s fine with being pinned by him sometimes, but being pinned with a dick in him? Eddie has no idea how his Alpha will react.

“Plus I’m not up to much for a little while once I’ve taken a knot, so if you want round two later then I’d better go first.”

Eddie wants to focus on the ‘round two’ part of the statement, because honestly, that sounds awesome. What actually happens is Eddie’s instincts become concerned with Steve taking someone else’s knot, and he rumbles out a little warning growl instead.

Steve settles next to him, all beautiful and naked and unbroken lines of muscled perfection, and he’s grinning, “what was that?”

“Apparently I don’t like the idea of you taking someone else's knot.”

“Ooooh, possessive huh? That’s nice. Well, don’t worry, it was a long time ago when I was young and dumb and willing to do anything to get what I wanted.”

Well that...that is a lot. Another small part of Steve’s past that Eddie didn’t expect. They don’t talk about their past much, neither of them do, and Eddie doesn't know about Steve’s motivations for that but...he just hasn’t felt the need to volunteer anything. It’s done now. That’s not who he is any more, not really.

“Hey,” Steve thumbs away Eddie’s frown, “don’t do that, it’s fine. I was still enjoying myself, even if I wish I could go back and give myself a talking to. Nothing bad happened to me Eddie, not like that.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” Steve smiles, “good,” and then he leans in for a kiss.

They have made out a lot over the last few weeks. Like, a lot a lot. Like horny teenagers with their first beau kind of a lot. But...this is the same but different. Still soft, still nice, still...a little bitey sometimes. But still Steve. Except now Eddie can roll Steve onto his back and slide a sweeping hand across Steve’s stomach and over a naked hip and thigh. The head of Steve's cock brushes Eddie’s forearm as he does it, leaving a hint of stickiness there.

“You want me to open you up?”

“Yeah,” Eddie answers, “never...you know.”

“I know,” but Steve's grinning like he’s won something. “Come on.”

Steve rearranges them both, sitting himself up a little on a comfy pile of Eddie’s collected bedding, pulling Eddie after him to straddle his thighs. Eddie goes where Steve sits him, watching avidly as Steve cracks the seal on the new lube and pumping a fair amount out onto his fingers. He rubs his fingers together, spreading it a little, before he seems to be satisfied and slips his hand down between Eddie’s thighs.

Steve’s fingers are warm enough, and slick, but still the first touch makes Eddie yip and lean away reflexively, gripping at Steve’s shoulders, “sorry. Ready this time.”

“Just tell me anytime you want to stop, okay?”

“I ain’t a quitter,” Eddie replies confidently.

Steve raises an eyebrow, and then Eddie realizes what he just said. It’s not funny, it isn’t, but they both laugh anyway. “Okay,” Steve goes in again, and this time, knowing what to expect, Eddie lets him touch softly, rubbing at Eddie asshole for a second before pressing in with one finger. Which goes pretty easily, actually. It goes all the way in, right until Steve’s hand is pressing against Eddie’s body, “okay?”

“Yeah, yeah that’s good,” doesn’t feel like much, just a weird wet little intrusion. The second finger should just feel like twice as much, but it definitely doesn’t. Eddie is suddenly very, very aware that he has Steve's fingers in his ass, and he breathes out slowly.

“Still good?”

“Yeah, yeah I think so,” Eddie’s found himself staring at Steve’s chest hair, but Steve’s angling his head down, seeking eye contact. Eddie makes himself give it, he didn’t realize just how hard he’d been concentrating.

“Kiss me then?”

Eddie does. He has to keep hold of Steve's shoulders and lean down, but he does, kissing Steve slow while Steve gently fucks him on two fingers. The palm of Steve’s hand is pressing up tight behind Eddie’s balls, and it feels so good that when Steve pulls his fingers out, Eddie whines a little and tries to chase it.

He has to watch while Steve pumps more lube onto his fingers, and Eddie knows three fingers is coming. He braces a little, but there’s no need. The pressure is slow and even, and Steve’s used enough lube that there's no sting, just a little burn as things stretch to accommodate Steve.

Feels good, even, and Eddie’s panting a little into Steve's mouth when he goes back for more kisses. Steve eventually speaks against Eddie’s mouth, “put the condom on me?” he asks quietly, slowly and carefully pulling his fingers free of Eddie’s body.

“Yeah,” Eddie knows what it can be like opening one of these things with slippy fingers, so he’s happy to do it for Steve, holding his cock upright with one hand as he carefully rests the condom on the exposed head of Steve’s cock, like a little hat. Eddie deftly squeezes the air out of the end before sliding his hand down, unrolling the condom with it.

Steve’s pumping more lube onto his fingers while Eddie works, and without either of them needing to speak, Eddie keeps hold of Steve’s cock, keeping it upright so that Steve can slick himself up.

It’s suddenly very real, what they’re about to do, now that Steve isn’t distracting Eddie with his hungry kisses. Eddie’s scent must signal something, because Steve’s eyes flick up to Eddie even as he’s still working slick over his cock. It’s a little obscene to watch, really.

Maybe Steve will jerk off sometime for Eddie. Put on a show.

“Come here baby,” Steve guides Eddie’s face to rest in the crook of his neck, where the scent is strongest. It’s soothing; relaxing. Comfort. It has changed a little; subtle. Eddie probably wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t been scenting Steve a lot for weeks now but...this must be what horny Steve scents like. A little brighter, something in the organic parts that give it a little zing, almost citrussy but too subtle to really identify as anything. It’s just...a little sharp. A little fresh.

Still nothing at all like an Alpha or an Omega. Totally different, new, fresh, safe.

Eddie’s gone a little soft through this, kind of sporting a half chub now, but Steve’s scent helps, the wet head leaving a sticky trail on Steve’s skin. The drag feels good.

Eddie takes a greedy lungful as Steve notches the head of his cock at Eddie’s hole. He stills then, nothing happening for long enough that Eddie’s gearing up to say anything, but then he realizes; Steve’s waiting on Eddie. Eddie has the control here, Steve’s giving Eddie the power.

Eddie just has to take the first step. It’s up to Eddie to choose to act. It’s so quintessentially Steve...Eddie gives a gentle nip to the side of Steve’s neck, and then sinks down just enough that the head of Steve’s cock pops inside him.

It feels...big. Like, it’s a lot. Eddie has to wait, just after that, to let himself acclimatize a little bit, “Jesus,” he breathes out low, “did your cock get ten times bigger while I wasn’t looking?”

Steve snorts, “you just got a tight little hole baby, that’s all.”

“Yeah because it ain’t designed for this,” Eddie replies grumpily.

Steve bites his lips together, holding in a laugh, but he doesn’t say anything. Probably the smart move, and Eddie shifts a little, Steve keeps rubbing comfortingly along Eddie’s thighs as Eddie lets himself sink down a little.

He’s not going to say how big Steve is again, he’s not. There’ll be no living with the smug fucker if he says it again.

Eddie breathes out slow, it’s a terrible moment to be reminded of all the stupid yoga breathing Steve’s been doing with him, but, hell, if it works it works. Steve’s cock feels like a fucking tree branch by the time Eddie is seated in Steve’s lap, and he’s dragging Steve’s scent across his tongue like his life depends on it but...he’s done it.

He lets himself have a moment to settle, Steve’s hands roving across Eddie’s back now, “you good?”

“Yeah. Yeah, just a couple of minutes.”

Steve kisses Eddie’s hair, and waits. It feels like it’s in Eddie’s lungs, and Eddie is...still kind of skeptical about this. But...he’s tried a lot of shit, and this isn’t any different. Plus he kind of loves Steve, so he’s going to give this a fair try.

The knowledge that Eddie’s never going to have sex with another person, all being well, ever again, prickles along Eddie’s skin. One final deep breath of Steve’s scent, and a tiny, possessive rumble on the exhale, and Eddie lifts himself up. Steve’s hands move with Eddie, sliding down to cup his ass. Not holding, not guiding, just following the movement.

Eddie slides down again and...oh. There’s a little zing of something, where Steve must have brushed against his prostate. Eddie lifts again, sitting up now so he can watch Steve’s face. He suddenly regrets hiding in the crook of Steve’s neck, because Steve looks wrecked. Eyes are totally blown, lips red and shiny like he’s been biting at them, mouth open a little, skin flushed and the hint of a prickle of sweat at his hair line.

Well if that isn’t going to encourage Eddie, nothing’s gonna’.

He sits down again sharply, and Steve can’t hold it in any more, he moans, eye’s sliding shut and then popping open again, like he doesn’t want to miss the show. And, well, if there’s one thing Eddie knows, it’s how to put on a show.

He shifts again, more confident now, tucking his shins closer to Steve’s thighs so he can move more comfortably, he rests one hand at the back of Steve’s neck, leaning in for the kiss and he lifts himself back up. There’s that zing again, that little pop of pleasure that has Eddie huffing a noise into Steve’s mouth.

Eddie’s rhythm is probably pretty slow, and he’s maybe working the end two thirds of Steve’s dick, but it’s just the right place to touch on his prostate on every pass. It’s just the right amount of slippy drag on his hole. The condom is smooth, but Eddie finds himself wanting it gone, he pulls back a tiny bit, watches as Steve licks his lips, Steve’s fingers tightening briefly on Eddie’s hips, “we're going to loose the condoms at some point, right?”

“Yup. Yeah. Lets do that. Get tested.”

Eddie hasn’t been with anyone since he was at the center, he hasn’t been with anyone since he was last tested for everything. But he doesn’t know about Steve, and quite frankly, he doesn’t want to ask if Steve’s been with anyone in that time.

It’s not his business, and it feels like the answers going to hurt either way. Eddie puts it out of his mind.

Eddie just crashes his mouth back against Steve’s instead. Steve’s fingers slip to Eddie’s dick; he’s grown hard again at some point, probably those little touches of pleasure he’s been feeling. Steve’s fingers go straight for the base, following the rise and fall of Eddie’s body easily, he massages at the sensitive skin Eddie’s knot will pop from, Steve’s sure fingers encouraging it.

Eddie might be exercising more, but the burn in his thighs is getting pretty real. He doesn’t stop though, taking panting breaths against Steve’s mouth since he doesn’t have the air for real kisses any more. The pleasure helps, gives him something to work for, the feeling of being full of Steve, that little wave of pleasure every time Eddie moves, Steve’s two fingers and thumb, gripping Eddie tight now at the base of his dick, pulsing pressure there right on Eddie’s growing knot.

Eddie looks down; the head of his cock is red, leaking precome all over Steve’s skin. Another fat drop pools in his slit for a second, before a squeeze from Steve’s fingers has his cock twitching and it slides off the end to splat on Steve’s stomach.

“I’m gonna’ come,” Eddie breathes, Steve just makes a noise in answer, and then keeps making it, huffing little noises of pleasure. His head is thrown back, long line of his throat completely exposed to Eddie as Eddie rides his pulsing cock. It’s different, there’s no intense wash of scent with a beta orgasm, no splash of slick or knot to go on. Just Steve, huffing through his orgasm.

Eddie’s knot pops in the tight band of Steve’s fingers and Eddie bites softly at Steve’s shoulder, because god he fucking needs something in his mouth. Needs the feel of Steve between his teeth, and it takes all of his control to keep it light.

Well, it might bruise a little.

Eddie’s orgasm is a pulsing, live thing, his body squeezing and clutching at Steve’s cock desperately. Steve hasn’t even touched the head of his dick, just keeps firm pressure on Eddie’s knot until the final, weak spurts of come drip off the head of his dick.

Eddie sighs, lapping at Steve’s shoulder, relaxing a little.

And then Steve squeezes. Eddie cries out, mouthful of Steve’s flesh, body clenching so hard it pushes Steve’s now softening cock out of his body, making him whine and wriggle on nothing. Another thick spurt of come splatters Steve’s already messy stomach, and Eddie’s left a panting mess in Steve's lap.

“Jesus,” he finally croaks out, body still twitching with the aftershocks of his orgasm, his cock resting in it’s own mess against Steve. It must be a little awkward, but Steve still hasn’t let up the even pressure on his knot, and Eddie settles into the feeling of connection, Steve’s salty sweat addictive on his tongue.

The nice thing about this having sex and being a couple and all that good stuff, is that now Steve is in the bath with Eddie while he washes his hair. Eddie’s glad he went for the silly sized bath really, Steve can comfortably sit behind him, Eddie cradled between Steve’s thick thighs.

Once he’s all washed and rinsed, he lies back, both of them spread out, Steve’s soft cock pressing against the small of Eddie’s back, “how did you know?”

Steve makes an inquiring noise. He sounds sleepy, and Eddie almost feels bad for disturbing him, but it feels important.

“How did you decide I was ready now?”

Steve yawns, “told you, I saw the interview.”

Eddie turns in the water, repositioning so he’s laid out on top of Steve, facing each other. Can’t really resist giving their cocks a little rub together while he’s there, making Steve huff, “yeah, but what about the interview?”

“Oh. Oh, you were helping people. That was...it was kind of the last conclusion I came to, when I was...you know, recovering. I was pretty sure I wasn’t going to stay okay if I didn’t...have purpose. If I didn’t do something that felt important. Helping people was...it got me through everything, at the end. Kept me...once I started helping, I knew I’d never go back. Not ever. I knew you’d released the album, and what it was for...obviously I bought a copy, so I was...thinking about it a lot then. Listened to the album a bunch of times...and then I saw you talking about it...and I just knew. I knew it would be okay if I tried.”

“What if I hadn’t called?”

Steve shrugs, “then you didn’t. I’d have...been sad about it, you know but...we’ve got to do the best thing for ourselves, and I had to trust you to know what that was. So I would have taken your answer, no matter what that was,” Steve kisses Eddie’s forehead, “I was just happy for you.”

Eddie nods. Pressing his cheek against the damp hair of Steve’s chest, Eddie rests.

#steddie #pre steddie #rock star eddie munson #drug abuse #alcohlism #eddie munson #stranger things #steve harrington #ficlet #chrissy cunningham #eddie and chrissy #alpha eddie munson #beta steve harrington

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howi99 · 2 days ago

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From the Nest 21

- nightfall -

Yang: *sitting awkwardly in front of Jaune* So... My mother was your teacher...

Jaune: *sigh, looking at how awkward Yang was acting like* Can you stop acting like a schoolgirl asking her crush for a date? *Taking a beer from Raven's stash, tossing it to Yang* Take that and relax a bit.

Yang: *Sigh, opening the bottle and taking a sip, wincing from the taste* Urgh, i can't believe my uncle like that!

Jaune: *lighting up a smoke, taking a drag* I personally don't like it either, i'm more of a girly drink lover myself.

Yang: ... *Taking a deep breath* I want to know where my mom is.

Jaune: *shrug* No idea.

Yang: *frown* Bullshit!

Jaune: *chuckle* Yang, even if i tell you where she is at this moment, the tribe would have moved before you can get there anyway. *Sigh, looking at the birds flying nearby* Beside, i said i would answer your questions, not sell out where my family lives.

Yang: Then what can you tell me!?

Jaune: *taking another drag* She's a broken mess, Yang.

Yang: *blink in confusion* ... What?

Jaune: *looking back at Yang with fatigued eyes* Raven's a good person who didn't have a single easy choice in life-

Yang: *sarcastically* Oh yeah, because leaving me for being weak must have been such a hard choice!

Jaune: *Point at her* Do you honestly think she left because you were "too weak"? *Scoff* Of course not; she left because the rest of her family was being massacred by both the Mistralean and Atlesian government.

Yang: *roll her eyes* They were criminals. Even you said so yourself.

Jaune: The adults? Oh yeah, they deserved to die. *Point at himself* But me? Or my oldest sister who almost got executed for just being part of a tribe she never wanted to be a part of in the first place, did we deserve to die too?

Yang: *shocked* W-wait, they were going to kill everyone!?

Jaune: *scoff* Of course not; half would have been sent to work in the mines or sold to the highest bidders. Heck, kids fetch a high price on the black market.

Yang: *feeling sick* O-oh God, i-i didn't know-

Jaune: *roll his eyes* Well duh, it's not like the government will scream on every roof that they are abusing and killing kids, Yang. And when she saved the tribe, or what was left of it anyway, she was branded a criminal... *Sigh* Can't really be part of a family when half of the world wants you dead, can you?

Yang: So you are telling me-

Jaune: *Flicking the ashes away, looking away* Her biggest regret was saving us, which meant she could never be a mother to you... or Ruby. *Humorless chuckle* She's so worried about you, becoming a huntress, and yet she can't do shit. *Grits his teeth* Honestly, do you know how sad it is? To hear her cry every single year, on the same 3 fucking days!?

Yang: *confused* What-

Jaune: Your birthdays, Ruby's birthdays and... *Look at his hands, remembering far too clearly the blood pouring out of Raven's wounds, the day Summer died* ... something she keeps feeling guilty of, even if it wasn't her fault.

Yang: *silently looking at Jaune* ... And you? What are you really like?

Jaune: *Put out the cigarette* Well, i'm nothing but a greedy bastard. *Smirk* I want everyone i care for to be happy, even if it would mean burning the entire world. *Shrug* And i care for a lot of people, including you and both of our teams.

Yang: *blink* That's... Not something i thought you'd say.

Jaune: What, that i'd do unspeakable things for my friends? Do you think i'm that weak willed?

Yang: N-no, just... I thought that maybe you became friend with me and Ruby just because of... Well...

Jaune: ... *Scratch his head* You do know Qrow still updates her about you two, right? *Shrug* I didn't have to become friends with y'all; i could have ignored you and Ruby and it wouldn't have changed a thing.

Yang: ... Qrow did WHAT!? HE SAID HE LOST CONTACT WITH HER YEARS AGO!?!

Jaune: (Oops...) I mean, had he told you, you probably would have run in Mistral by yourself and got yourself killed which i doubt he'd want.

Yang: Still! He could have sent her all the letters i wrote her-

Jaune: Oh he did, just without telling you.

Yang: ... MOTHERF-

- Meanwhile -

Qrow: ... Why do i feel like someone just threw me under the bus?

Raven: *drinking a beer with him* Oh yeah, forgot to tell you that Yang found out about Jaune.

Qrow: ... Oh i'm so royally fucked.

#jaune arc #raven branwen #qrow branwen #yang xiao long #rwby #rwby au #from the nest au

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shuenkio · 2 days ago

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Zero o'clock — 니키 🎆☄. *. ⋆

Paring: Ex-bf Ni-ki X M!reader

Synopsis: Will he ever be here again with you, on the new year countdown at the same spot? When both of you already broke up? Would he? Genre: Angst but happy ending. Cw: curse or more? Non proof read | English is not my first. This is a work of fanfiction, do not throw unnecessary tantrums on this nsfw/sfw blog. ©Shuenkio

It has been months ever since you broke up with your so-called boyfriend. And the reason behind this was the right person wrong timing however there was a hint which you never noticed that NIKI still longing for you no matter what the cause, even though both of you knowing that no one had the time to even spare one attention or affection,

Let alone suffering to this point where everyone part ways.

Where was home when you wanted him? Then there he was, out there busy with whatever project schedule he had with his friends, at first all he says was it only takes a few weeks nevertheless the week turns into months, months. And why is that? You caught him red hand where he's hanging out freely in the club, but that's not enough, the fact there was girl and boy by his side, both of his hands clinging on their shoulders? it's not even funny at all when you found him there when you were there for running errands. It was a suffering sight to encounter that could make you tear blood. The first time you thought your first love was meant to be last yet it was wrong. Heart ache is not a strong word to even describe how bad you felt it more than that.

And when he asked why would you break up with him? Simple,

"we're not the right one"

At the campus, the new year's countdown celebration. There were people, countless students presence to celebrate together. The night filled with the blank less cloud that let the full moon shine through the earth.

You were there, the same spot again where you used to stay close with your lover but it was all in the memory now. Something really did not stay the same despite how good it was, never meant to be ?. Your friends asked you if you'd come along with them so you won't feel lonely but you politely decline, need time for yourself though you were not alone anymore, this is a festival after all, definitely feel lonely.

Little did you know, Ni-ki were already there, from a distance not so far away. He'd determine that you'll never spend this memories year alone. He will make a change tonight.

It hurt him the day both of you decided, he begged, asking for forgiveness, mercy, spare for time to be a better boyfriend again but it was never that easy, a broken glass can't be pieces with glue easily. Earning back your trust that could cost more than just words, is the only way.

And he knows that, seeing you with somebody else only to make him jealous, furious, does not sit right. That person will never be anybody but him only. The love that he built for God knows how long a waste will never be — He was such a selfish person for love. Stupid crazy in love with his ex-boyfriend.

"Hey" a familiar voice utter. You know instantly who he was, didn't even bother to turn around. It was awkwardly silent. Playing hard to get on his nerve, Ni-ki palm grip on your slump shoulder as he turns you to face hum.

"You do not have the right to ignore me" his finger points at your face like a threat, he was true to his words and there was no more funny business in him anymore — which makes you unsure and not a single word left your lip. You stood there with him hover, like a shield. The same spot, the same jacket he wore that day, nostalgia hit you in the gut that drew tears to your eyes, you couldn't control any longer.

On the other hand, Ni-ki knows you too much to the fact he wasn't even surprised, and was expected you would be a cry-baby, forever his cry-baby.

"I fucking hate you, why can't you just leave me alone? You always bother me so much when I am trying to move on" the dawn has fallen, but you were so strong that nobody can read your expression to assume.

"Hate me all you want, because hear this M/n! I don't A no as the answer, hm? "

I will apologize, make it up to you till the day I die if I have to, but our relationship never ended since that day you decided— *sigh*

say it, I need you to say what is on your mind hon, you don't have a choice, no one will understand you like I do, go grab your sack and explore the world, you will never whether you like it or not we stuck" Ni-ki manipulate again, he will always use this card and it always work. You want it, want to say that how toxic this relationship or him was, you will still be too deep, drowning in his love that can't be surface — and the fact he also did the same but the once time mistake, killed your trust.

This time you no longer hold in anymore, you cry in his face, salty tears streaming down on your beautiful cheeks that can only be seen by him, one and only. They say you only show your true color with your lifeline and here we are.

"Fine... You won me again, you moron"

Ni-ki won. The only victory that he feels like he won in life. He'd vow from the earth to heaven he never made his boyfriend carry the weight of pain again. As Ni-ki slid his fist down and grabbed you by the waist and held you close into a warm embrace, while he covered you in his long jacket, nobody would see your vulnerability. Your head against his heart, just feels right than the cure of cancer.

"M/n you will always love me and will always, say yes to me and I will kill for you, I'm sorry I make you went through shit, this time I'm pinky promise you, yaksokkhae?"

"Yaksokkhae" (promise)

His hand was tight in yours; fingers intertwined like a promise. He knew you knew he’d never let go. Not now, not ever. There was a feeling in the air not quite peace, not quite ache, something in between. As fireworks bloomed against the midnight sky, painting color into the dark, the moment etched itself into something permanent. This place wouldn’t become just a memory. He was here. He would always be here. And you would never have to stand alone again.

That’s zero o’clock love — the kind that starts again and again when everything else resets.

A/n: It been a while since i write angst, but never real angst but now it here with my love- Ni-ki san... I know some parts may be awkward but i hope you can understand ever single sentences, and for the cover thank to my love @angelsfat3 mwah. Also, happy 1 year's writer debut on tumblr... May 1st.

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nhmkhnh · 2 days ago

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your eyes are so, so pretty i bet—your lips are probably wet.

pairings: dom!caitvi x sub!fem!reader

author's note: i still kept the draft of cait x f!reader iykyk. but changed in the last minute bc why not caitvi x f!reader?

wrn: lowercase.

rating: explicit. (minors & men dni) | words: 1.0k list: praise kink, degradation kink, bathroom sex, mirror kink, rough fingerplay (r. receiving), oral (r. receiving), a bit of aftercare.

masterlist / janitor ai / c.ai / carrd

♫: streets x vacation bible school.

you were never supposed to end up like this. bent over the bathroom sink at some luxury penthouse party, sweat sliding down your spine, your skirt shoved up past your hips while caitlyn’s hand gripped your jaw and vi held your wrists behind your back like you were theirs. maybe you should’ve known better the moment they started circling you like wolves months ago—watching you like a prize neither of them planned on sharing. except they did. and now they’re wrecking you together, a perfectly sharpened knife split two ways.

“look at you,” caitlyn says, her voice ice-wrapped velvet, words curling around your ears like silk and sin. she tilts your chin toward the mirror, forcing you to meet your own reflection—lips swollen, eyes glassy, smeared lipstick painting a confession across your mouth. “you’re practically begging us to ruin you in public.”

vi lets out a breathless laugh behind you, her teeth grazing your shoulder before she growls, “she likes it. don’t you, sweetheart?”

your voice is nothing but a whimper, but your hips betray you—grinding back against vi’s thigh like you’re desperate to be filled. caitlyn tuts, her fingers sliding down from your chin to wrap around your throat—not tight, just enough to remind you who’s in control.

“she can’t even speak,” caitlyn murmurs, eyes locked with yours in the mirror. “and we’ve barely touched her.”

vi smirks against your neck. “think she’s ready for more, cupcake?”

caitlyn’s grip tightens—just enough to make your pulse spike. “oh, i think she’s been ready since she walked into this party dressed like a little fucking treat. tell me, darling, did you wear that for us?”

you nod, mouth open, desperate.

vi’s hand slides between your thighs from behind, two fingers slipping past the soaked fabric of your panties like they were never even a barrier. “jesus christ—she’s dripping.”

caitlyn hums. “such a good girl. always so wet for us.”

your knees buckle as vi starts to fuck you with her fingers—slow, deep thrusts that make your body tremble. you can’t even close your legs with her pressed so tightly behind you, her other hand gripping your hips like she owns them.

she does.

they both do.

and they know it.

“you feel that, sweetheart?” vi pants against your ear, curling her fingers inside you. “that’s what you get for teasing me all night in that little skirt. bending over for other people? laughing too loud when i wasn’t even next to you?” her voice darkens. “you’re lucky i didn’t fuck you on the goddamn table.”

caitlyn chuckles, still holding your throat gently, her other hand slipping between your breasts and undoing the front of your dress with precise flicks of her fingers. “she’s luckier i didn’t make her kneel under it.”

your breath hitches—caught between their hands, their hunger, their matching hunger for you. vi’s fingers are relentless now, curling just right, finding that spot that makes your thighs shake.

“she’s close,” vi whispers. “i can feel it.”

“let her,” caitlyn says smoothly. “she’s earned it.”

“fuck, fuck, vi—” your voice is wrecked, high and pleading.

vi kisses the back of your neck, her thrusts growing faster. “come on, baby. cum for us. show everyone who this pretty pussy belongs to.”

and you do. loud. messy. your whole body jerks forward as you cum hard around her fingers, crying out caitlyn’s name like a prayer and vi’s like a sin. you sag against the sink, breathless, spent.

but they’re not done.

caitlyn leans in and kisses your cheek, her voice sugar-slick and lethal. “we’re not finished, darling.”

vi groans, pulling her fingers out slow and sucking them clean with obscene satisfaction. “tastes like heaven.”

caitlyn steps behind you now, trading places with vi, and you feel the difference instantly. her touch is colder, more calculated—fingers dragging up your inner thigh with aristocratic precision. she kneels.

you barely have time to blink before her mouth is on you.

you sob, high and sweet, as caitlyn eats you out with devastating calm. she doesn’t moan like vi does—she devours, all focus, all control, hands pinning your hips while her tongue laps up everything vi left behind. the worst part? she keeps eye contact in the mirror. cold, sharp, dangerous.

you can’t take it. you’re shaking.

and vi’s right in front of you now, kneeling on the counter so her face is level with yours. “eyes on me,” she says gently, cupping your cheek. “don’t look away while caitlyn fucks you with her tongue.”

you try. you try.

but caitlyn’s fingers join the party, two of them pushing inside, twisting deep while her mouth sucks your clit like she owns it.

“p-please—i can’t—”

“you can.” vi kisses you. it’s soft, too soft for how ruined you are. “you’re our good girl. you’ll take it.”

and you do. you cum again, sobbing into vi’s mouth, your legs giving out completely. caitlyn only lets up when your moans turn to whimpers, slow and overstimulated. she stands, licking her lips like you were nothing but dessert.

“perfect,” she says softly. “so obedient.”

vi scoops you up effortlessly, carrying you to a velvet bench in the bathroom like you're made of glass. she sits down with you in her lap, arms wrapped tight around your waist, kissing your shoulder, your jaw, your temple. “you okay, baby?”

you nod weakly, pressing your face into her neck. “yeah.”

caitlyn joins you, sitting beside you and smoothing your hair back, voice quieter now. “you did so well for us.”

you whimper as they begin to undress you slowly, replacing lust with comfort—damp fabric peeled away, replaced with vi’s hoodie and caitlyn’s scarf. they’re doting now, whispering how good you were, how pretty, how theirs.

“you belong to us,” caitlyn murmurs.

“only us,” vi echoes.

and in that moment—naked, used, held—you don’t want anything else.

#vi x reader #violet x reader #caitlyn x reader #caitvi x reader #arcane #smut #four writings in a day i fucked up #but happy

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milkoomi · 1 day ago

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overcoming the spring semester slump. ᥫ᭡

i’m sure a lot of us students are at that point in the spring semester where the level of our motivation is going down, our minds are quick to think “if i skip this assignment, i’ll still have a passing grade”, and our anxiety over final assessments/exams/projects/grades is increasing as each day passes. so let’s take a moment to pause, take a breather, and remind & reassure ourselves that everything is going to be okay. the spring semester slump is very real, but it’s something that you can overcome! so grab my hand because i’m going to guide you through this!

let’s begin …

୨ৎ — loss of motivation

losing that spark you had at the start of the semester/school year can feel so devastating. it’s frustrating to see the changes in your level of energy and it creates this sense of disappointment. but you have to remember: this is completely normal.

there’s so many other students out there who are experiencing the same drop in motivation and energy, so step one is reminding yourself that you aren’t alone in this feeling! yes, it’s extremely disheartening to see yourself slip away from that academic weapon status, but you aren’t the only one going through something like this!

“how do i get my motivation back?”

ask yourself this: if you’ve already gotten this far into the school year, why would you want yourself to let go of all your hard work?

you’ve come so far! and, up until this point, you have been exceeding your own expectations! up until this point, you’ve put in so many hours into your school work and studies! why let all that time and effort go to waste?

here are some things that keep me motivated:

proving to everyone who doubted me that they were all wrong

making my loved ones and myself proud

knowing that i’m another step closer to working in my dream career field

maintaining my 4.0 gpa

make a list of your goals! this will help you visualize and give you a reminder of what all your work is going towards. i know you want to achieve your goals, i know you want to be a better version of yourself, i know you want to climb up to the top when it comes to your academics— let your goals be your fuel.

sometimes, all we need is a reminder of why were doing all this. we need to see or hear what the ultimate end goal is, so be that person to do that for yourself! tell yourself that all this hard work is going towards your bigger picture!

୨ৎ — negative mindset changes

you and i both know you’ve stared at an assignment and spent a good chunk of time debating on actually doing it because “you’ll still have a passing grade if you don’t”. trust me, i’ve done it. again, you aren’t alone in having those kinds of thoughts! i get it, we all have calculated the lowest score we could possibly get to still have a passing grade in a class. i actually did that on a recent exam i took that i also procrastinated til the day of to study for.

it’s okay to have these thoughts pass through in your mind, but what isn’t okay is actually putting those thoughts into action. don’t let that unmotivated voice in your head take control of your academics!

“but how do i stop myself from thinking this way?”

i want you to take a look at all the past assignments you’ve completed and all the quiz/exam grades you’ve received throughout the school year and/or semester. notice how you submitted every single assignment? notice how all your studying got you the grades you wanted? you managed to do all of that, so why let those passing thoughts take over? you have shown yourself, and even your teachers/professors/instructors, that you are more than capable of getting things done. why let yourself slip?

if you’ve spent the entire semester turning in assignments on time and getting above average grades on all the exams, are you really going to show your professors— the people who have been watching you excel all semester— that you’re letting your academics go?

and you’ll never know, but skipping that one assignment could potentially break your grade. complete it. do it. turn it in. it could help cushion your grade or even bring it back up!

୨ৎ — finals anxiety

finals week is slowly, but surely, making it’s way back into our lives once again. that week and the weeks following up to it are the perfect breeding grounds for anxiety to fully settle in. and i get it! it’s not a fun feeling. you’re overwhelmed, you’re feeling overworked, you’re feeling burnt out, and your anxiety is just seeming to take over the more and more you think about it.

gonna say it one more time: it’s 100% okay to feel this way! finals week anxiety and stress is normal. it’s an important week to focus on seeing as final exams make up such a big portion of your grade. your anxiety and stress about it is completely valid!

“how can i overcome this anxiety?”

i created this post on preparing for finals week, so i highly recommend taking a look at that since i go into greater detail on how to prepare as well as offer some helpful tips!

ways i manage my academic anxiety & stress:

creating to-do lists & planning out my week

pomodoro & eat-the-frog method for time management

journaling — emotion/thought dumping

setting aside time to do something that makes me happy and/or is relaxing

reaching out to my support system

getting 8 hours of sleep every night

forming study groups with my classmates

it’s important that you’re giving yourself breaks. i always say this, but i really am a huge advocate for making sure you still have time to do something for yourself that isn’t related to school.

allow yourself to breathe; give yourself time to relax your mind. if there’s anything to take away from this section, it’s always making sure you set aside personal time for yourself. whether it’s going for a walk, playing with your pets, chatting with a friend, playing a video game, doing your makeup just for fun, or even taking a nap, just make sure you always make time to do something for yourself!

a lot of the academic anxiety and stress can stem from not making enough time for yourself to relax. i’m sure you were locked in all semester and i’m sure you put in hours upon hours into your studies, but give yourself a break! go do something fun! don’t let your entire life be consumed by your academics!

i know i said in the previous section to get your shit done, and while i still stand by that, i will always climb to the mountain tops and scream that you need to make time for breaks, self care, and yourself. don’t overwork yourself! you might feel the need to just keep going and going, but you’re allowed to slow down; you need to slow down. putting majority, or even all of your time into your studies can only make your anxiety and stress worse.

final notes —

the biggest take away from this post should be this: you’re not alone in this feeling, and getting yourself back up now will have your future self thanking you forever! this slump is something so many students go through, but you have to remind yourself that all your hard work now will truly reward you later down the road.

you’ve gotten yourself this far! keep going! your future self is going to be so grateful that you kept moving forward!

with lots of love, faustina 🌷

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possesseddesiress · 2 days ago

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The Midnight Ritual. Part Two

CONTENT WARNING: This story includes themes of transformation and body control with a suggestive approach. If this type of narrative is not to your liking or you do not meet the recommended age, we suggest you do not continue. All images used (if any) belong to their respective owners. I claim no authorship over them and they are only used for illustrative purposes.

If you decide to go ahead, welcome to Possessed Desires, where mind and body are never completely under your control.

The Midnight Ritual, part one (English Version)

Part One: The Midnight Ritual I

At that point was when I lost all reasoning, I didn't even think about my friend, or the consequences of my actions, I was filled with jealousy.

I wanted something, and if I could get it, I would do it without hesitation.

I waited for Jacob to fall asleep, it was the afternoon and I knew he always took a nap at that time. I was tossing and turning in my room, until I felt it. How my consciousness was subtracted to be thrown all at once into my friend's body.

I smiled smugly, raising my arm to kiss my bicep and sniff my armpit.

- Hey... - I muttered to myself, touching my chest hard and squeezing it. My other hand went to the relief in my pants to start stroking the area insistently, squeezing as I let out loud gasps - Ugh, shit....

I sighed heavily but not giving up, I had a plan already laid out, and I would stick to it to the letter. I stood up, noticing that Jacob was wearing a sleeveless compression t-shirt, he looked so good... I flexed my arm hard, puffing out my bicep and then took a picture and sent it to my number.

- Hey buddy, do you like the way I look?

I didn't wait for him to respond. I took off my shirt to change it for a red one, but it still exposed my big, thick arms, my broad chest or even my stinky, hairy armpits. I looked amazing.

- Gosh, I look good. That's what a real man looks like, isn't it?

I smiled smugly, lifting my armpit to inhale again in total lust.

I then headed to the gym. It was the first time I had ever done that, I always tried to stay away from the gym in Jacob's body because I was worried I wouldn't know his exercises and cause him to start doing them wrong, plus it was his safe space. But what did it matter?

I walked in, exuding confidence and swagger, watched the receptionist, winking at him to go inside and head to the weights area. First of all because they were easy to operate, it was just lift, flex and lower, but there was also something very special about the area: consecutive mirrored panels that covered the entire wall, perfect for watching me.

I lifted a weight, starting to do the exercise, I had to admit I loved how the pumping felt, how my big arms would inflate and I would start sweating, permeating the area with my scent.

Once I was drenched in sweat, I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket to flex and start taking pictures, straight to my phone.

- Hey buddy, what do you think?

I was surprised I hadn't already responded to my old body, I spent most of my time looking at my phone. Was I playing video games?

I went back to working out, ready for the next step. I flexed my arms again, raising and lowering the barbell, as I began to make more effort, I began to think about something: Me.

I glimpsed my original body, my face, my hips, everything from head to toe. Even things I only knew about.

- Eric has a nice body, Eric is cute, Eric is desirable...

I mumbled lifting the weight again and again between grunts, then I felt something... how the contour between my pants started to lift, that was something unexpected but it was perfect for all that.

I slowly and calmly rubbed the area, enjoying the sensation without letting go of the weight. I continued to think about my body, imaginary scenarios... Jacob and I kissing, him slamming my slim little body against the wall.

- Eric is so... cute - I murmured - I like him, I like my best friend.

It was like feeling a strange sensation, as if I knew that what I had just done had definitely sealed something in poor Jacob.

I was about to regret it, trying to think how to fix what I had done when I felt the phone vibrate, it was me.

- Jacob, are you feeling okay?

- Yeah, bro. Great, I've only been thinking about you all afternoon, tell me something, wouldn't you like to be here with me?

And again, another picture.

I knew "I" wouldn't dare turn down this opportunity, to have the guy of his dreams, finally gay and at his feet. A perfect lottery ticket.

- Dude?

- Come on, don't complain and say you like him.

I then proceeded to throw myself on the floor, I didn't care if others saw me, I had to get this right if I wanted to perfectly realize this. If I wanted to stay only with Jacob.

"I want Eric, just him. I want him to be my boyfriend, just him, I don't want to think about other guys, him to be the only one for me. My only belonging, for him to be mine. Me only his, always obedient to whatever whims he asks of me."

I lifted my T-shirt, revealing my abs and also placing my pelvis up for the picture, and sent it back to the chat.

- Or don't you like it?

She left me on hold, it took her a while to respond. I thought she was even going to ignore me and just put me on hold.

- I love it, come to my house.

I didn't need anything else. I got to my feet as fast as I could, grabbed my stuff and ran out of the gym to the surprised looks of everyone.

I ran to my house, knocked on the door and then opened it myself.

It was strange to see me acting without me being in control, as if an android was impersonating me or I was living in an alternate reality.

- Jacob, what's wrong? - he said in a nervous tone - Yes you're kidding, I don't like how this is getting, I...

He said in a nervous tone, to which I preferred to silence him. I grabbed him from the back of his neck to kiss him intensely, sticking my new tongue hard into his mouth, he only sighed before we closed the door.

We rushed up to his room, our hands eager, him trying to touch every inch of my well sculpted skin, even inhaling my armpits with need, to which I smiled.

- What do you want?

- W-what are you talking about?

- Ask and I will.

I muttered with a stern look in my eyes though also, perfectly willing to oblige whatever came from those thin lips.

He thought awkwardly, though then said with certainty.

- Get down on the floor and lift your legs.

I obeyed him, throwing myself on the floor and bending my legs, showing off my plump, round buttocks encased in the sports lycra. My feet encased in his somewhat smelly sneakers. I stood there still, waiting for him to do something else.

He knelt down to start kissing my legs, then slapped my buttocks.

- Uh!" I grunted loudly, then he reached up to the relief to pull down my pants to swallow my manhood in one fell swoop.

I let out a deep gasp, closing my eyes, smiling; I grabbed him by the back of the neck to pull him down against the base - That... That's it, good boy.

He broke for air, then took off my shoes and placed the sole of my foot against his face, inhaling like crazy. His face full and impregnated with my new scent.

- You don't know how much I dreamed of this - murmured my old body.

- I can imagine - I smiled.

That day we ended up against each other, me slamming my body against his, my hands clutching his as I let out screams and grinned like a fool, or even let him try to shake my buttocks himself.

Although I always thought my rod was quite modest, having it inside was another sensation altogether, it had me with my tongue hanging out and my eyes unfocused for hours. We were both cuddled up in my old bed, him lying on my chest.

- Jacob... I... I love you.

He murmured.

- I love you too.

I answered

He smiled. And the final move of my plan:

- Do you want to be my boyfriend?

I asked.

I shouldn't even count that he answered.

Since then Jacob's behavior changed radically, we stopped being friends and became a couple. He was a very attentive boyfriend although sometimes very perverted, it seemed that all that had raised his libido to the sky, but I knew that he would always be mine, and that was a great advantage.

Very occasionally I can still get into his body, and I love to stay hours and hours playing with my huge pecs, although it's more fun when my original body joins in.

----

I hope you enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. If you liked it, don't forget to follow it and share it so more people can discover it.

I'm always open to suggestions and ideas, so if you have any fantasy or scenario in mind, let me know in the comments or in messages. See you in the next story... Who knows what body you will occupy this time?

---

#mental change #straight to gay #twinktohunk #malebodyswap #possesion

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prettystary · 2 hours ago

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.....right...

So would it be crazy to say I'm still holding onto hope that the casket is empty... because thematically, Athena’s case only makes sense if she had some belief that Bobby might still be alive. But the episode never establishes that. Her disproving the mother’s theory didn’t really change how Athena’s grief was portrayed. she’s still bottling it up, just like she was all episode. (Same with literally everyone except Chim, which is a whole separate frustration.)

So why not have Athena express that doubt and then open the casket at the end. To either confirm or deny what she’s afraid of? That would have given her arc in the episode some emotional progression. (And mirror opening the sons casket)

It feels deliberate that we never see his body, and that nobody opens the casket. Especially after the episode establishes them literally checking another casket for remains...

(Also, her dialogue lining up with the leaked script? Was that scene real and just pushed to the beginning of the next episode? That would explain the weirdly underwhelming promo.)

But If Bobby is actually just buried alive and revealed in the next ep rather than this one, it honestly fits with how this season has dragged out every storyline (cough cough, the Texas plot). And it could be a way to keep Eddie in LA a bit longer, since we already know he’ll be there for the finale. and that the metaphorical side of the “Don’t Drink the Water” title likely centers on him, meaning he must be in next weeks episode too.

But who knows. Cancel the show if Bobby’s really dead.

(The time jump was such a choice, btw. This show got its audience by putting characters through wild, traumatic stuff. And actually showing how they feel about it. The grief, the breakdowns, the way they lean on each other. That’s what made it hit so hard. That’s what made people care.

So to just skip all of that? It completely goes against what this show built itself on. I get that the characters are probably bottling things up, but like... show us something. Literally anything. Don’t skip the emotional fallout just to rush into a plot twist or some cheap sendoff. It feels like they forgot what made the show good in the first place.)

My (probably wrong) theory about what might go down with Bobby’s death storyline on 911. Because yes, I’m still holding on to the idea that he’s alive.

So first off, I don’t think Bobby was buried alive. That whole “buried alive” thing was likely an April Fool’s joke. I’m not sure why or who orchestrated it, though.

Jennifer Love Hewitt posted the same blurry script Oliver did (hers was smaller), and while she’s shared scripts on her story before, I doubt she’d go that far for a prank. And Oliver, while his was readable, doesn’t even use Twitter anymore, which is where most of the fan panic came from. So if it was a prank, I have no idea who planned it. Plus, Tim said he doesn’t know where the leak came from… weird. Like, if it was a joke, why not just say that instead of acting like it mysteriously got out?

Anyway, onto my actual theory.

Throughout the episode, they really emphasized how intense the virus military was about containing the virus rather than using the cure. Bobby ends up being the only person on Earth with this new strain now that Chim is cured. And though it looks like he dies at the end, maybe he just passed out (like Chim did earlier in the episode). What if the military took Bobby for experimentation to study the new strain? They don’t expect him to live, so they lie and tell everyone he’s dead, giving them an empty casket they’re warned not to open “for safety reasons.” But Bobby’s actually still alive and probably in some secret military facility (and maybe that magic blood from season 1 is keeping him going)

So the episode plays out with everyone mourning him, but right at the end, someone (Athena? Buck? Someone from the 118?) opens the casket and realizes it’s empty. Boom. Cliffhanger. Next episode becomes a mission to find Bobby.

Now, the next episode is titled Don’t Drink the Water, and at first I thought it tied into Eddie’s scene with the priest. The juice vs. water moment, but the titles usually work metaphorically for the characters and literally for the 118 call.

So here’s my loose theory. Maybe something’s wrong with the LA water supply. While the 118 is responding to water-related emergencies, they’re also secretly following leads on Bobby (and running into the military thats investigating the water issue) , maybe even interfering or stealing evidence like Athena did before.

Eventually, someone drinks the contaminated tap water (probably Buck because of course) and starts hallucinating Bobby. But the hallucinations actually help him piece together the truth. Buck won’t tell the others he’s sick, trying to hold it together, but eventually they find Bobby. Buck passes out, but we know he’ll be okay. It mirrors Bobby saving Chim, now Buck saves Bobby.

As for the Eddie storyline, I think Buck is still a little upset about Eddie leaving and not being there when they needed him or something of that nature, and is now keeping a distance. Eddie doesn’t understand why it hurts so much, and Tommy (probably) helps him realize how much buck means to him (more than platonically). Eddie finally gets that Buck brings him joy, and that he deserves that joy. He wants to tell Buck how he feels… but then Buck collapses. No confession yet, but it’s coming.

So yeah. This is my bonkers theory that probably won’t happen, but I’m coping lol.

#911 abc #911 show #911 spoilers #911 theories #bobby nash

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mysterious-moonstruck-musings · 10 hours ago

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Closed Position: Week 9 (Jazz)

Closed Position Masterlist ||| Main Masterlist Dieter Bravo x OFC (Katarina)

Series Summary: Dieter Bravo, now sober, was looking to change his bad boy image after hitting rock bottom. His team hoped that having him join the nationally televised family friendly dance competition, Dancing with the Stars, would be a good first step, if they can keep him out of trouble.

Katarina Stamos expected her last season as a professional dancer on the show to go the same as it had for the past thirteen seasons. That all changed when she was partnered with the infamous Dieter Bravo.

Dieter and Katarina are reluctantly thrown into their partnership and must learn to work together to succeed in the competition. In the process they form a deeper connection beyond the dance floor that neither anticipated.

Chapter Word Count: 12.3K

👉 Fic Warnings: Sexual tension, mutual pining, angst, so much smut (we get a little dom and sub Dieter, intimacy, use of a sex toy, sex acts in public, spanking...really it's all too much to list here - it's Dieter, use your imagination), spicy language, themes dealing with intimate partner violence (not by Dieter), past alcohol abuse, past drug abuse, and shitty parents. This will be a slow burn. Read at your own risk. Cat dad / plant dad Dieter comes with his own warnings.

Chapter Quote: "You’re not trying to fuck me too, are you?”

Kat’s POV

I stood staring at my puffy eyes in the mirror, now all cried out after a sleepless night alone in my own bed. I sighed, wondering if Dieter would even show up for this morning’s scheduled production meeting. The thought made me feel sick. I didn’t know what to say to him or if he would even speak to me. I wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t as I now realized how the things I said must have sounded. I was treating him like everyone else had, by not believing in him and taking his sobriety seriously. That wasn’t my intention. The problem was me, not him. However, I didn’t know how to make him see that without it sounding like I didn’t trust that he had changed. Truth be told, deep down, there may have been some doubt driving it all and I just didn’t want to admit it.

I puffed air out of my cheeks as I pulled my tank top off, my eyes dropping to the marks left by Dieter’s mouth on my breast. The memory of our Sunday morning exploits filled my thoughts. The way he knew me and my body without me ever having to say a word. How every second we spent together was filled with intimacy unlike anything I had ever experienced. This is why it was hard for me to understand why my mind was telling me that it was superficial and circumstantial.

I reached for the braid in my hair, pulling out the tie before working my fingers through it to loosen the strands from their confines. Dieter had been doing this for me. It had quickly become one of our morning rituals. My fingers didn’t feel the same as his. He wasn’t standing behind me, catching my gaze in the mirror with a smirk on his lips - and it was my fault. It was then I realized that I had given him everything, body and soul, and he still held those pieces. I knew that I would never get them back and I didn’t know how to handle it.

I could feel the tears threatening to fall again, but somehow managed to shake them off as I stepped into the shower. I stood there for a time, allowing the hot spray to run down my face and hopefully calm the swelling caused by my emotional state. I felt like a mess, but eventually settled into a hazy numbness that I knew would be needed to get through the day and probably the next four weeks.

I soon found myself walking toward Television City Studios without even remembering how I got there. The whole morning was a blur. I paused outside the door, allowing my eyes to scan the lot for Dieter’s car but I didn’t see it. I sighed in frustration, realizing I probably needed to have an excuse planned for Stacia and Joe in case he didn’t show up.

As I sat waiting, my leg bounced incessantly. My eyes shifted between the clock on the wall and the entry door, anxiously awaiting Dieter’s arrival. When one of the young PA’s came to call me back for the meeting, he still hadn’t arrived. I nodded and stood to make my way to the conference room. When I entered, Stacia and Joe eyed me before their eyes trailed toward the door.

Stacia was the first to speak, “Where’s Dieter?”

I opened my mouth to respond but was cut off before I said anything.

“I’m here,” Dieter called from the doorway as he rushed in to take the seat to my right. “Sorry, I got held up in traffic.”

I exhaled a shaky breath that I didn’t realize I had been holding. I chanced a glance in his direction. He was staring straight ahead at Stacia and Joe, not even bothering to acknowledge me. He was wearing a hat and sunglasses. I could just make out his creased brows as his jaw tightened. My eyes drifted down, noticing the rise and fall of his chest. His breathing was shallow, like he was having trouble catching a breath, but he didn’t let it show. Instead, he kept a stony expression fixed on the two people sitting across the table from us. I noticed he had one hand fisted on his thigh, clenching and unclenching, no doubt leaving fingernail imprints on his palm as he did so.

I had to force myself to look away, my gaze now settling on Stacia and Joe who seemed to be watching us in silence. They were clearly already sensing the awkward energy between us. Stacia’s head tilted to the side, “What happened to you two last night? You weren’t there for the bottom three announcements.”

Dieter’s head turned toward me, that stony expression still on his face. I glanced over at him, but I couldn’t read him without seeing his eyes. I found myself wishing he would take those fucking sunglasses off.

I cleared my throat, “I’m sorry, I wasn’t feeling well. I uhh, got sick.”

Stacia’s left brow ticked upward, “Are you still feeling ill? Do we need to get someone else to step in this week?”

I shook my head, “No…No, I’m fine now. I think it was something I ate.”

Her eyes shifted between us. She definitely didn’t buy that. The tension between us was too obvious. There was no hiding it.

“Everything still going well between you two?” she asked.

I rubbed at my temple nervously. I didn’t know how to answer that.

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” Dieter said. His voice was gruff. Raw. Like he had just woken up, except there was an undertone of something else. Sadness maybe? He didn’t sound very convincing, and it made my chest ache.

They didn’t question it further, but I knew that they knew something was wrong. I could see it on their faces as they went through the motions of going through this week's routine. We would be doing Jazz, for which I was thankful. It was less intimate and would allow us to have some distance from each other. I didn’t pay any attention to the costume sketches. I stared at the pages without seeing them as I nodded in approval. I couldn’t even remember what the song of the week was as they wrapped up the meeting.

Dieter inhaled a deep breath and stood, not hesitating to head toward the hallway as Stacia asked me to hang back for a moment. Dieter glanced in my direction, gnawing on the inside of his cheek before he stepped out of the room. I gave Stacia a tight smile as Joe spoke up, “We just wanted to check in and make sure Alec is keeping his distance?”

The question caught me off guard. Alec was the last thing on my mind at the moment. I managed a nod, “Yeah…he’s keeping away. I’ve not had any issues with him.”

They both gave me tight smiles and nodded. “Good. Let us know if that changes, please,” Joe replied.

“Yeah, of course,” I agreed before standing. “Anything else?” I asked.

They shook their heads, and I took that as my cue to leave. As I said my goodbyes, I could feel their eyes on me until I was out of sight. Dieter and I had almost certainly set them into a tailspin with this development.

When I got to the lobby, I scanned the area for Dieter, but he was nowhere to be found. I knew it was wishful thinking, but he had come to the meeting. Hopefully he would come to rehearsal, too - give me a chance to clarify what I was feeling. I needed him to know that it wasn’t him. I needed to make him understand that much at least.

I left after that, my eyes still surveying the lot for him as I got into my car. He was long gone. I puffed air out of my cheeks as I decided to go pick up a quick lunch. I settled on fast food, realizing nothing looked appetizing as I stared at the menu board. I ended up with a grilled chicken sandwich that I didn’t really eat. I mostly just picked at it and nibbled on a few fries. I hated wasting food, but I just couldn't stomach it. I felt too disgusted with myself. I threw a handful of fries out for the waiting birds, then threw everything else in the trash.

After watching the birds devour the fries for a few minutes, I headed toward the dance studio for rehearsal. Dieter wasn’t there. I tried to ignore that twisted feeling in the pit of my stomach that told me he wasn’t coming, but it was hard. That feeling intensified with each passing second.

After twenty minutes, I decided to pull up our song to keep myself occupied. The song was called One Heart. I lay there on the floor with my eyes closed, thinking through possible choreography for the week while trying not to pay attention to the lyrics about a breakup and all the things left unsaid between two people. The producers really did have an unsettling ability to choose songs to fit the mood of the week.

Thirty more minutes passed, and Dieter was still a no show. I grabbed my phone to check if I had any messages. Nothing. He was almost an hour late. He wasn’t coming. I fought back tears at the realization. I don’t really know what I expected. I probably would have done the same thing if I were him, but I at least would have told him I wasn’t coming. I opened my messenger app and found his name.

Me: Are you coming to rehearsal?

I watched as the indicator immediately changed to “Read”. The three bubbles began bouncing indicating he was typing, but then stopped. This happened several more times before his reply finally came through.

Dieter: I can’t do it today. I’m sorry. I tried, but I can’t.

The tears that I had been holding in, finally slipped free. He didn’t have to say it. I could read between the lines. He was hurting. Because of me. I sat staring at the wall for a beat, forcing myself to feel the self-inflicted pain that I deserved. I wiped the tears away, then glanced back down at my phone. Hopeful as I typed out a reply.

Me: It’s ok. We can pick it up tomorrow.

I waited, watching the bubbles bounce, pause, then start again.

Dieter: Yeah, maybe.

Well, it wasn’t a no, and he didn’t tell me to fuck off. So, maybe it was a small win.

Instead of going home and licking my wounds, I stayed at the studio and worked on our routine. I did still have a job to do after all. It would be better to have something started than nothing at all.

I damn near had our entire routine planned out as I sunk into bed that evening, worn out and aching from pushing myself to go through it the best I could without a partner. Even though my body was tired, my mind was not. It was another restless night.

On Wednesday, I awoke feeling like my body was twisted in a knot. Everything hurt, but I persevered - taking a scorching hot shower and loading up on anti-inflammatory pain relievers. It helped enough to make it bearable. I felt almost human as I walked into the empty dance studio. To pass time, I began stretching. The anxious feeling quickly returned to the pit of my stomach, that fear that Dieter wasn’t going to show again. If he didn’t show today, I wasn’t sure if we would make it through this week.

An hour passed, and I lost hope. I wasn’t about to sit here for the full seven and a half hours if he wasn't planning to come. I took a deep breath as I reached for my phone.

Me: Just checking in…are you coming to rehearsal today?

It was marked as read almost immediately. I waited at least ten minutes before his response finally came through.

Dieter: Yes.

I suddenly felt nauseous. I wasn’t sure if I was ready to see him, but I didn’t really have a choice. We still had a job to do.

Twenty-five more minutes passed, and he still hadn’t shown up. I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose as I walked into the hallway and peered out the windows into the parking lot. I was surprised to see his car sitting in the front row. He was still in the driver's seat with his head leaned back against the headrest, not moving for several minutes.

Eventually, the door opened, and he stepped out. He stood there, staring toward the building as he raked a hand down his face. He sighed heavily as he leaned against the car and shook his head. Then he turned, sinking back into the driver’s seat. His feet were still planted on the pavement as he placed his elbows on his knees and buried his face in his hands. I knew I shouldn’t be watching him, but I couldn’t help it. Some part of me needed to see this. To see what I was doing to him.

I wanted to go to him, but I didn’t feel like that would be the right thing to do. I didn’t want to send mixed signals because I still felt like we needed some space so that I could figure my stuff out. It wouldn’t be fair to string him along if I wasn’t sure what I wanted.

His hands slid upward, pushing his hair away from his brow. He sat with his hands on his head, staring at the pavement for what seemed like forever. He puffed air out of his cheeks, then finally stood. He turned to grab his phone, keys, and water bottle out of the car before walking toward the entrance. I took a deep, calming breath as I headed back to our assigned studio space.

It was several minutes before he finally entered the room. I assumed he had to give himself one last pep talk beforehand. He didn’t look at me as he walked over to sit his things down on a nearby chair. I could tell he was taking deep, controlled breaths as he turned to face me. He kept his head down, wringing his hands together as he approached.

Now that I was seeing him up close, without his sunglasses, I could see how tired he looked. He had dark circles under his eyes and his face looked puffy. His hair was a mess, like he had run his fingers through it a million times. His patchy beard was more scruffy than normal, sticking out in all directions. I wanted nothing more than to hug him.

He finally raised his head, looking everywhere but at my face. That hurt more than I realized it would.

“Dieter, I…” I started, but he held up his hand to stop me.

He shook his head, “I don’t wanna talk about it. We have a job to do. That’s what I’m here for. I’ll keep it professional, as requested.”

My heart was pounding in my ears. I was not expecting him to handle it like this.

“Can I just…” I began again, but he cut me off.

“No. If it’s not about the routine, I don’t wanna hear it.”

I sighed, accepting defeat. I could see the pain in his eyes, and it was killing me. I didn’t know what to say that would take it away. I realized there was nothing I could say to him right now that wouldn’t make it worse.

“Ok. Let’s go over what I have so far then. We’ve got a lot of lost time to make up for.”

We got to work. The undercurrent of tension never ceasing as we went through the motions. Everything between us felt negatively charged. The dancing was different. Our connection fragmented. We no longer moved as one. It was messy, causing frustrations to rise as we both struggled through it.

When our rehearsal time was up, Dieter didn’t linger. He grabbed his belongings and told me to have a good evening and quickly exited the studio without a second glance in my direction. I was slower to leave, reaching my car about five minutes or so after he had left. I was surprised to find that he was still in the lot. He didn’t move to leave until I was in my car with the door shut. I guessed there were some habits that he wouldn’t be giving up.

I woke up on Thursday feeling just as shitty as the day before. I wasn’t taking care of myself, and my body wasn’t happy about it. Add that to the loneliness I was feeling and the sadness over Dieter and it made for a bad morning.

Not to mention that it was filming day, and I was absolutely dreading it. After how it had gone the previous day with Dieter, I wasn’t sure how things were going to appear anywhere remotely close to normal. I knew it would be obvious to anyone watching that something was off between us.

Dieter and I arrived at the dance studio close to the same time. The filming crew was already nearly finished with setup, so we got started with our stretches. There was no helping each other stretch or playful banter between us like there normally was. We were silent and avoided eye contact. It was already setting the stage for the massive blow up to come.

I could tell from the glances that the crew were shooting at each other that they were picking up on the weird vibes. It wasn’t like they were hard to miss. Things started off cordial between us, much like the previous day. However, it was clear there were lingering frustrations with the routine. Dieter was having a hard time focusing and picking up the steps. It was Jazz, not the typical ballroom stuff, so it did make things a little more complicated. I knew he was better than this though. I knew it was because his mind was on other things.

Three hours in, we were both still fumbling through the routine. We were completely out of sync and tripping over each other. The more I pointed out his mistakes and tried to correct them, the more frustrated he got. In turn, causing him to make more mistakes. I really wasn’t trying to pick on him, instead trying to stay focused on the choreography since we had cameras on us.

For the first time ever, we started bickering. The escalating tension was evident and only encouraged the camera crew to stick around longer than they normally would have. We were slowly turning into a ticking time bomb, arguing about everything aside from what we really needed to talk about.

It all finally came to a head as we practiced a lift. He didn’t lean his head back like he was supposed to as he hoisted me upward, which resulted in him getting knocked in the face by my knee. It wasn’t the first time I had accidentally hit him in some way while dancing, but it was the first time he almost dropped me because of it.

He scrambled to catch me just before my face smacked the ground, managing to gain control at the last second and set me down carefully as he let out a loud groan. His mic pack came unclipped from his waistband and banged against the floor next to my head as he turned away rubbing at his lower back. I reacted quickly, knocking it away before it swung at me. It was still hanging from the cord, dragging behind Dieter as he walked in a wide circle, pushing through whatever pain he was feeling.

“Are you ok?” I asked.

His eyes cut toward me, anger flashing in them in a way I had never seen. “No, I’m not fucking OK. I almost dropped you and I think I pulled something.”

His harsh tone made me flinch, surprising me more than anything. I watched as he turned to continue his pacing, then nearly tripped over the mic pack that was still trailing after him. He was clearly at his limit as he reached for the cord to lift the pack into his hand. Then he shocked us all by yanking the wire loose from his shirt and slung the whole thing toward the wall with enough force that it broke into several pieces. He promptly turned on his heel, muttering obscenities as he walked through the double doors, leaving us all in stunned silence.

All eyes eventually turned to me. I sucked in a sharp breath, realizing that the whole incident had been caught on camera. Fuck.

One of the crew asked me what was going on. So, I gave the best lie I could come up with in the moment. I shrugged, “We’ve been going nonstop for nine weeks. We’re tired, we’re old, and everything hurts. It’s just taking its toll.”

I finally stood from where I had been sitting on the floor, “I’ll go check on him.”

They moved to follow me, but I stopped them, reaching to remove my mic pack. “No. It’s better if you don’t come. Just…lemme talk to him in private, please.”

They relented, hanging back as I moved out to the hallway. I glanced around, but didn’t see him. His phone was still lying in the studio, so I didn’t think he had left. I decided to check outside, which is where I found him leaning against the side of his car. He had one arm wrapped around his torso, the elbow of the other propped on it as he rubbed at the crease between his brows. His entire body looked tense, coiled tight and waiting to explode.

I approached him cautiously, not even really sure of what to say because this obviously wasn’t about the rehearsal. I settled on, “Is your back OK?”

He scoffed, “Yeah…but I can’t do this. I can’t keep doing this. It’s too much for me.”

I sighed, “So, what? You’re just gonna quit?”

He shrugged, “It would be better than torturing myself.”

I felt like he had just knocked the wind out of me. I shook my head, “No, I’ll just ask to have someone replace me. You deserve to finish.”

He was shaking his head now as he stared at the ground, “No. I’m never dancing with anyone else. I can’t.”

I let out a humorless laugh, “I’m sure it wouldn’t take you long to get over it if you got a new partner. Dancing has a way of doing that.”

He scoffed, the hint of anger that I saw flash in his eyes earlier was back. “You have no right telling me about my feelings. I know what I’m feeling, and I know it’s real. You’re a hypocrite and a coward for believing otherwise.”

It was my turn to scoff, “Excuse me? How the hell am I a hypocrite and coward for trying to be honest with you about where I’m at emotionally?”

He gave me a deadpan stare, “Are you fucking serious right now? You preach about believing people can change and giving them second chances when you won’t even give me the first one. You’re too fucking scared to even try. Meanwhile you gave that abusive asshole how many chances? And I can’t even get one to prove myself to you. I’m never gonna treat you the way he did. I care about you too much to do that.”

I stood with my mouth agape, not even sure how to respond. He wasn’t wrong, I hadn’t really given him a chance. And deep down, I knew my choices were being driven by fear, but that didn’t mean my worries were any less legitimate.

“Dieter…it’s not that simple. This is complicated for me…and I just need…”

“I’m in love with you,” he blurted out in a rush.

“time…what?” I was convinced I heard him wrong.

His dark watery gaze was almost owlish as he stared at me, “I said, I’m in love with you…Kat.”

I felt paralyzed by his words. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t speak. I just stood there peering up at him in disbelief. He looked deflated when I didn’t say anything in return, and it crushed me. I wanted to scream the same sentiment from the roof tops, but I was too fucking scared. Admitting to those feelings was giving him too much control. It would mean that I was letting him in. All the way. And I still wasn’t sure if I was ready for that.

He took a step toward me, his eyes boring into mine as he continued. “You can choose not to believe me if you want…but I need you to know that’s where I’m at. I’ve never said those words to anyone in my life. No one has ever made me feel this way. That’s how I know it’s real. It’s not some bullshit on set hookup. It never was. I knew you were it for me at the beginning of our first rehearsal and that’s never gonna change.”

I could feel the tears pooling in my eyes. I wanted to close the distance between us, tell him I was sorry and wrong and beg him to forget everything I had said, but I couldn’t. The fear was still holding me back and somehow escalating to crippling levels with his words.

When I still didn’t respond, any remaining hope he had seemed to fade from his eyes. The crease between his brows was deeper than I had ever seen as his lips set into a tight line with a slight downward turn. He nodded, seeming to take my lack of response as his answer.

He reached into his pocket for his keys as he turned, opening the car door to get inside. I somehow managed to catch my breath and find my voice, “No, wait. I…just need time, OK? That’s all I’m asking for.”

He paused and sighed, not bothering to look my way as he responded. “If that’s all you can say to me right now, then I think I know where I stand. I just wish you would admit it.”

I shook my head as the tears fell freely, “Dieter…no. That’s not…”

He didn’t even let me finish before he got into the car, shutting the door and starting the ignition without another glance in my direction. I could see the pain etched on his face as he backed out of the parking space and disappeared from my sight.

Without warning, a sob burst from my chest. I was fucking this up so badly and I didn’t even fully understand why. He was doing everything right. He made me happy. I felt safe with him. We were amazing together. Yet, I was still holding back. His past did worry me, but he hadn’t given me any reason to doubt that he had changed. He couldn’t help that his past behavior lingered in the minds of others who now judged him incorrectly. I knew that, yet I was still letting it warp my feelings about who he was now. I knew most of this confusion and fear was being caused by Alec. I may have removed him from my life, but he was still controlling it - controlling me. I hated myself for allowing it.

Once I finally pulled myself together the best I could, I had to go back inside and tell the film crew we were done for the day. Internally I was fuming because I knew Stacia and Joe would find out about everything that just happened before I even stepped foot inside my house this evening.

I didn’t linger, I was packed up and out the door before the film crew. I realized Dieter had indeed left his phone, so I grabbed it to take with me. When I got home, I unlocked it to find Evan’s number so I could let him know that I had it. I was surprised to discover that the wallpaper was a picture of me cuddling Zee. It was one I hadn’t seen. I wasn’t even sure when he had taken it. It had me feeling teary eyed all over again.

(More good stuff after the images. Click to enlarge.)

I opened his contacts, shocked that he didn’t have many numbers saved. He wasn’t lying when he said he cleaned out his phone. It only took me a second to scroll down to Evan’s name to get his number.

After firing off a text to Evan, I opened Dieter’s photo app. I knew I shouldn’t, but curiosity got the best of me. He had an album called ‘Things to Remember’ that jumped out at me. It had random screenshots of quotes and recipes. There were also pictures of his Oscar, plants, Zee, and me. So many pictures of me that I didn’t know he had taken. It made me feel warm, causing my heart to race.

I wondered why he had these specific pictures in this album. Then I realized, aside from the quotes and recipes, it was a collection of moments he wanted to remember as they were - as he saw them. Just quick snaps of time to hold onto, almost like he expected them to disappear. Or like he needed a reminder that they were real. I wondered what he thought about when he looked at them. Did each one stir a specific emotion that he didn’t want to forget? It was the only thing that made sense.

Some of the pictures seemed so random. The first that stood out was me lying snuggled in his bed with my bare back exposed and bathed in sunlight, hair fanned out around my head. There was another of me in the kitchen, wearing nothing but his t-shirt as I made dinner. Another of me deep in concentration as I worked to carefully prune one of his plants. There were so many of me and Zee. I couldn’t help smiling as I looked through them, each one a reminder of how happy he made me. This was what I needed to focus on. Not all the static and noise from everyone else.

I turned my attention to screenshots of quotes. A couple of them made my heart clench in my chest. Especially the two most recent ones that were dated from the previous day.

“The sensitive suffer more; but they love more, and dream more.”

“I wanted you to see the mess and still find me worthy of love, to tell me that you could still love me anyway.”

I sighed, wiping away a few stray tears as I locked Dieter’s phone and put it on the table. Of all the ways I could have hurt him, this was the worst one. I wasn’t even sure if I could fix it if I wanted to.

A short time later, I received a text from Evan saying he would be by to pick up Dieter’s phone and drop off some of my things. The thought of Dieter removing traces of me from his home hurt. I couldn't blame him though. I probably would have done the same if I were him. Especially if he was hurting as badly as I now realized he was.

When I opened the door, Evan didn’t greet me. Instead, he pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes. I gave him a nervous smile and motioned for him to come inside. He came halfway into the entryway before spinning on his heel, holding out a tote bag in offering.

“Dieter wanted me to drop this stuff off. He thought you might need it while wallowing in self-pity...” He paused, gasping dramatically before continuing. “I mean…he didn’t say that last part. I did. Except I’m not allowed to talk to you about it.”

I gave him a tight smile, “I probably deserved that. It’s fine.”

His eyes surveyed me from head to toe before he finally said, “You look as shitty as he does. I don’t understand what happened…why it’s still happening… Can’t we just apologize to each other and live happily ever after? Because I need happy Dieter back. Sad Dieter is a pain in the ass to deal with.”

I could see why Dieter liked Evan. He really was no nonsense and had a way with words. I guess you have to when you’ve essentially been Dieter Bravo’s babysitter for half his life.

I sighed, “I’m sorry you're stuck in the middle of this. This isn’t…It’s not what I intended to happen. I really just wanted to press pause so I could have a minute to think…to process everything that’s happened…to make sure what we’re feeling is real.”

I moved to sit on the couch. Evan trailed behind and joined me. His face was empathetic as he took in my words.

“Dieter isn’t wrong. I’m scared. I’m feeling a lot of things, and I don’t really know how to process it all. A lot of it is new…and after what I’ve been through with my ex, it’s hard…to…I dunno. Let someone else in? I guess? I’m not really sure. I’m still trying to understand it myself.”

Evan rubbed at the tops of his thighs and sighed, “Well, since I’m not supposed to discuss any of this with you, I definitely didn’t tell you that he’ll forgive you and that he does understand that part. Not that we’ve had in-depth conversations about it or anything…”

I gave him a sad smile. He really was just as ridiculous as Dieter sometimes.

He paused, pulling his lips back as he sucked air through his teeth. “I’m also not telling you that it’s ok to worry about his sobriety and past behavior. It’s a natural human response, especially with his history. I do it every day. I saw his slow spiral and I’ve seen him at his worst. So, I feel like I can confidently say that he has changed. I see it…this is his best…and I worry less and less about it as time goes on. He’s committed now and he’s been doing so fucking good. I have no doubt that if you continue to be in his life, I’d never have to worry again. I’ve never seen him like this…with anyone. Trust me when I say that man is devoted to you in every way. You won’t have to worry about him sliding back into his old ways.”

The tears were falling again. This really was something I needed to hear. It helped smother my dumpster fire of thoughts just a little bit. I also didn’t feel as guilty for letting those things get to me.

“Thank you, Evan. That does hold some weight coming from you. I appreciate you not telling me.”

He smiled, “Can I give you a hug? I feel like you need a hug.”

I laughed, a genuine laugh and nodded. He gave me a real hug. Not a measly lean in and pat on the back. It was firm and warm, the kind that friends share. I was thankful for it.

When he pulled away, he cleared his throat. “Now, I am supposed to tell you that Dieter will be at rehearsal tomorrow. After a mini meltdown he called Lenny and begged to leave the show, but Lenny won’t let him…Actually, I wasn’t supposed to tell you that part. Whatever. Anyway, he’ll be at rehearsal. I hope you two can figure this out. Call me if you need anything, yeah? Even if it’s to not talk about any of this.”

I gave him another sad smile as he picked up Dieter’s phone from the table and stood to leave. It hurt to know that Dieter did try to get out of the show, but at least we still had time to figure things out.

After all, time was the only thing I was asking for.

Dieter’s POV

This week had been literal hell for me. I spent Monday night blaming myself. I knew that something was going on with Kat. I could sense her pulling away. I had told myself not to push her and to give her space, only offering support when she needed it. In the past, that had worked. It had been what she wanted. So, I stayed the course this time, trusting that she would talk to me about whatever was bothering her when she was ready. That’s where I had gone wrong. I should have pushed harder. Perhaps if I had, she wouldn’t have spiraled in such an epic way.

I never would have dreamed that she had reached the point of effectively ending things in this way. She said she needed time, but her reasoning for it was a punch to the gut. It hurt like hell to know that she didn’t believe in me, especially after the bullshit she said about believing in second chances. Sure, I’ve had my fair share of second chances as far as my career, and let’s be real - continuing to be alive. Kat hadn’t even given me the first chance though. Not really. She had decided to nope out of it before I even had a chance to fuck things up. The worst part was, I couldn’t really blame her. I never felt worthy of her. Deep down I knew it was too good to last.

And just like that, my self-hatred spiral was back in force. After staying up most of the night I decided that I could manage it and push through. Put a pause on things like she asked and go back to being professional for the sake of the show and my career. My resolve was already faltering when I left for our production meeting on Tuesday. I ended up driving in circles around the studio for at least twenty minutes before I dug up the courage to park and go inside. The timing ended up working out, being called to the conference room as soon as I walked in the door.

If I had come early and been forced to make small talk with Kat beforehand, I wouldn’t have made it through the meeting. I barely made it through as it was. I couldn’t even bring myself to look at her without nearly bursting into tears. Having to sit next to her and hear her voice was bad enough.

When the meeting was over, I exited the room like the building was on fire, but not before catching a quick glimpse of Kat. I realized she looked just as tired and broken as I did. I wanted nothing more than to scoop her up and tell her it would be OK, but I knew that wouldn’t go over well. Truth be told, I didn’t know how to act around her now. I was never going to be able to pick up where we left off before New York. It was impossible. Too much had happened between us for that. Those thoughts only seemed to ramp up my anxiety about the situation and turned me into a wound up, bumbling mess. I knew I couldn’t go to rehearsal like that. I tried, but I couldn’t do it. I felt like such an idiot over the whole thing.

With great effort, I somehow managed to get it together enough to show up for rehearsal on Wednesday. Though I probably would have been better off not going. Things between Kat and I were tense. Broken. We absolutely could not get on the same page. I knew most of it was my fault because I couldn’t focus. It hurt too much to be near her. I couldn’t even look at her directly without my bottom lip quivering like a fucking child.

It didn’t take long for the frustration to set in. I was slowly falling apart, and I knew it. The more I tried to get it together the worse things got, and it was pissing me off. That frustration reached a boiling point while we were filming on Thursday. I almost dropped Kat. If I had, she surely would have gotten hurt, which made me hate myself even more for how ridiculous I was being. She almost got hurt, because of me. It was just too much.

Looking back, I wasn’t proud of how I reacted in that moment. Somehow the old Dieter busted loose from his confines and decided to show his ass for a minute. That’s when I knew that I needed to step away. I was slipping.

I wish I had just left as soon as I went to the car. I knew Kat would come looking for me. I knew she would confront me. What I hadn’t expected was my sudden outburst telling her how deep my feelings really were. It wasn’t the time for it, but I think part of me thought it would make her realize that I was all in for this. Maybe she would see how ridiculous she was being and say everything was going to be OK, but that’s not what happened. She just stood there staring at me like I had three heads and said nothing.

I felt like I had made an ass of myself. I regretted it the second the words left my mouth. However, there was some part of me that was happy it was out there now. At least she knew where I stood, and she could do with it as she pleased. The fact that she didn’t seem to reciprocate the sentiment was hitting me hard though. I would have been better off not knowing.

What happened after that wasn’t my proudest moment. I drove to Evan’s house and essentially had a meltdown on his couch. He did not know how to handle that situation because it was a first. Realizing I had left my phone at the studio, I made him call Lenny so I could beg him to get me off the show. I offered to fake an injury if need be. I wasn’t above it at this point. Lenny’s response was that I needed to put my big boy panties on and that I needed to learn to deal with the consequences of my actions and stop dipping my dick where I work. He wasn’t wrong, but this was different. It was Kat. Not some random hookup.

Evan followed me home after that and put up with my manic frenzy to gather up Kat’s things so that they were out of sight. I couldn’t handle seeing the traces of her in my house. It hurt too much. I needed a clean slate so I could reset. Otherwise, I knew I wasn’t going to be able to do this.

Kat had apparently texted Evan to let him know she had my phone. I shoved him out the door with a bag of her things and gave explicit instructions not to discuss any of this with her while he was there to get my phone. He looked completely exasperated as I slammed the door in his face.

I stayed up pretty much the entire night, alternating between snuggling Zee, plant care, and painting. I couldn’t shut my mind off and felt the need to keep busy, so I didn’t turn to darker methods of coping. I finally fell asleep as the sun was rising, but it wasn’t for long because I had rehearsal.

I slept through my alarm and ended up being an hour late. I was in a bad mood as I made my way into the studio, firing off a quick bullshit response about scheduling conflicts to Dr. Smith’s questions about why I was a no show for my therapy session this week.

When I entered the studio, Kat looked torn between being pissed and empathetic. I knew I looked like shit. I hadn’t even bothered to wash all the paint off my hands before I left the house. She looked like she was about to say something that I wasn’t really in the mood to hear, so I cut her off before she could get the words out.

“Let’s just stick to the topic of dance, please. I don’t think we really need to discuss anything else at this point.”

I still couldn’t look at her, not directly. It was torture. Instead, I looked past her, focusing on the wall at the back of the room as she nodded. We got to it after that. I somehow managed to shut my mind off, going completely numb as we worked in mostly silence. The only words shared between us were about the routine.

Saturday and Sunday rehearsals went pretty much the same way, except I somehow managed to show up on time. Not that I was feeling any better or was able to get any rest. I was just going through the motions. Existing really. Shutting everything off was the only way I could get through this without turning to old habits.

That doesn’t mean that I didn’t feel the distance growing between Kat and me. I felt it every second of the day. I knew she felt it too. I could see it in the way she looked at me in those few instances I managed a quick glance at her face. It was weighing on her, but I reasoned that it was because of how hard I was taking it. Not because she loved me back.

Monday, I woke up feeling anxious, not knowing how the day was going to go. I knew this show day was going to be different and I was dreading it. I arrived at the studio at my usual time. Kat was there as well, which meant we were first to go through camera blocking. It was obvious that we were still not on the same page, both of us making several mistakes on each run through. When we were finished, she gave me a few pointers. Then she disappeared. I assumed she went to her dressing room or maybe to do her final costume fitting.

It felt strange not having her by my side. Others seemed to notice her absence as well, giving me odd glances as I passed by. The whispers started when I showed up for hair and makeup alone. No one would ask me directly, but I could hear the hushed murmurs wondering where Kat was. It definitely didn’t help my sour mood and I’m sure the scowl on my face was only fueling it further. It was a ruthless cycle.

After having a quick costume fitting, I headed to the main ballroom for our dress rehearsal. It was the first time I had seen Kat since camera blocking. We had somehow managed to successfully avoid each other all morning. She looked beautiful as always, wearing some sort of pink fringe thing that looked amazing against her glowing skin. Her face told another story though. She looked tired and sad. I was suddenly worried she hadn’t been taking care of herself like she should. I hated myself all over again for being the reason behind it if that were the case.

I walked over to stand next to her, waiting for our turn. She briefly glanced up at me before turning her gaze downward toward the floor. I inhaled deeply, trying to keep my composure. Everything about this felt wrong and I hated it.

Minutes later, we were called up to go through our routine. On the first run through, I took a wrong step and nearly tripped over her. They made us start over. The second run through went a little better, but the minor mistakes were still happening. We were both making them. This led to more whispers among the cast as we exited the ballroom.

We both went back to our respective dressing rooms after that. Kat walked ahead of me, not looking back as she closed the door behind her. I rubbed at my face, puffing air out of my cheeks as I passed her door to go to mine. This really was fucking torture.

I sat alone in my dressing room after that. I felt lonelier than I ever had, to the point that it was making me sick. This space didn’t feel the same without Kat in it. There was a layer of nervousness there too. I knew this performance would not be one of our best. The competition was down to six couples. It’s not like we had a lot of room to be fucking up at this point. I knew this could be the one that got us voted off the show. Part of me almost welcomed that outcome so that I could get away from the stress of it all. The other part worried it would be the last time I would see Kat and didn’t want it to end.

Before I knew it, we were being called to the staging area for the show to start. I found a spot to watch the show from, trying not to pay attention to the odd looks as I stood alone. I eventually sensed Kat’s presence. She appeared beside me, arms hugging her body as she watched the opening performance. The air felt charged between us, but not in the same way it usually was. It felt thick and suffocating. It made it hard to catch my breath. For the first time in weeks, I found myself wanting alcohol, just so I could get through this. I hated myself for it.

We were soon called to take our places as this weeks behind the scenes footage played on the screens. They were definitely playing up the drama I had caused. I hadn’t really considered how that was going to look to the audience or thought of a response if asked about it. It made my anxiety ramp up just a little bit more. For the first time in days, I met Kat’s gaze fully and held it as we took our places. I could see the worry in her eyes. She knew this wasn’t going to go well as much as I did.

And it didn’t.

There were no smiles between us as we danced. Just concentration and disappointment as we powered through our screw ups. We had a hard time staying in sync, even getting off rhythm a couple of times. It wasn’t a terrible performance, but it wasn’t a week 9 performance. I looked like a rookie in my first week with messy footwork and bad timing.

When we finished, all I could do was shake my head and let out a controlled breath as I followed Kat over to the interview area. They of course asked me what was going on this week. I followed Kat’s explanation of being old and tired and tried to laugh it off. The judges were not impressed. They tore the performance apart and expressed their disappointment, making sure to let us know this wasn’t the time to drop the ball because the remaining couples are going to be tough to beat even when we were performing at a high level. My stomach sank, convinced that tonight would be our last night. They gave us two sixes and two sevens, which was higher than I was expecting. However, it was the lowest score of the night.

Through all of this, Kat stood silently beside me with her hands clasped in front of her. Her eyes seemed to be fixed on something in the distance. She looked like she was completely disassociating. After they read off our scores, she crossed in front of me to exit the stage, pinching the bridge of her nose as she went. My chin dropped to my chest as I followed behind her.

Production Control Room

The production control room was buzzing with activity as the staff worked to certify audience and viewer votes before time to announce the bottom three couples. Stacia and Joe sit impatiently waiting for the results. Both are frustrated by the turn of events with Dieter and Kat. While the drama from rehearsals was definitely setting social media ablaze with speculation, they knew there was a real danger their star couple could be voted off the show after such a lacking performance. When the results are handed over to the two executive producers, they are shocked, but relieved to find that Dieter and Kat placed third in the group of six.

Stacia sinks back into her seat in relief but is contemplative as she eyes Joe. She begins writing the results down on the card that is to be delivered to the host, but Joe grabs her hand to stop her progress as he gives her a pointed look. “What are you doing? We agreed to never tamper with the results…”

She sighed, “It’s not really tampering. The bottom two will still be the same. I just need to give them a little wakeup call so that they get their shit together. Another week of this and they’re gone…and fucking Alec will still be here. What do you think that’ll do to ratings? Especially if word ever gets out about what he actually did to her...”

Joe pulled his hand back, staring at Stacia in thought before nodding for her to continue. Stacia finishes writing in Dieter and Kat’s name and passes the card off to a production assistant to run the results down to the host.

Now all they can do is sit back and wait to see if this play has the intended effect.

Dieter’s POV

When we were called to the stage for the bottom three announcement, I could hear my heart pounding in my ears. I didn’t have a good feeling about this. We ended the night with the lowest score from the judges. The only hope I had left was that the Dieterina Stans voted to keep us around for a little longer, but I wasn’t confident about it.

As the host began calling off the couples that were safe, I could feel my anxiety going up another notch with each name that wasn’t ours. Before I knew it, they were announcing the names of the bottom three couples - which included Kat and me. Then they cut to commercial break. I had to work double time to keep myself from falling apart. I knew this wouldn’t just be the end of our time together on the show, but maybe even the end of whatever I was trying to work toward. She would have no reason to see me after this. She might not want to.

In the midst of my internal spiral, I felt a hand slide against my arm. I glanced down to see Kat’s fingers lacing through mine. I peered over at her, she was staring at me with tears in her eyes. I had to look away, or else I was going to lose it. That didn’t stop me from giving her hand a reassuring squeeze as the on air indicator flickered back to life. I wasn’t sure what it meant, but it gave me some hope that maybe this wasn’t over.

We stood tightly gripping each other's hands as we waited for the next name to be called. I held my breath, damn near passing out before they finally called out our name as being safe. Kat and I both let out a sigh of relief, both of us smiling in each other’s presence for the first time in a week.

As we exited the stage, Kat seemed to get emotional. I asked her if she was OK, but she waved me off as she exited to the hallway. I raked a hand down my face, unsure of how to proceed after the moment we had just shared on stage. I decided to follow after her, assuming she had gone to her dressing room, but she wasn’t there.

I sighed, as I looked around the hallway that was slowly filling with cast members. She was nowhere in sight. So, I decided to go to my dressing room and wait. After changing out of my costume, I hung it outside the door for pickup and purposefully left the door open so that Kat would know I was here.

I was packing up my bag when movement by the door caught my attention. Any excitement that I might have had was quickly deflated when my eyes locked with Anika’s as she came sashaying into the room like a predator ready to pounce on prey.

I sighed, “Anika, is there something I can help you with?”

Her lips curled upward as she spoke in a sickly sweet voice, “I just wanted to see how you were doing after that. Seems like you had a rough night.”

My brows furrowed, “I’m fine. It’s not a big deal.”

She moved to stand in front of me with a look of concern, “Are you sure? You seemed pretty upset out there. I thought maybe we could go grab some dinner and talk about it.”

Fuck. Here we go. I gave her a tight lipped smile, “That’s nice of you to offer, but I’m waiting for Kat.”

She gasped, seeming shocked. “Really? Well, I saw Kat leave.”

My face fell. There was no hiding my disappointment. I realized maybe I was an idiot for hoping. The hurt and pain at that realization settled into my chest and squeezed hard. Anika moved in closer, placing her hand on my arm. I stared at it, not really sure how to react.

“You know, we could just go back to my place and hang out…if you need a distraction.”

Her hand began to slide up my arm just as I raised my head to meet her gaze, “Huh?”

She was smiling again as her hand settled on the back of my neck, “You know, something to take your mind off things…off Kat. I can make you dinner…or do other things…”

There were a few seconds that I actually considered the offer - suddenly craving the rush and distraction I knew it would give me, but I quickly dismissed it because I’m no longer that person. I gave her a crooked smile and laughed nervously, tilting my head back as she suddenly leaned in, her hand pulling my head forward as she crashed her lips against mine. Everything about it felt so wrong. I honestly felt like I was going to be sick as I pushed her away just in time to see Kat’s back walking toward the exit.

“Fuck,” I huffed out in frustration. “You know what Anika, I’ve tried being nice and letting you down easy…but I’m just gonna say it. I’m not interested. Not now. Not ever. So, I’m going to need you to leave this room and never step foot in it again.”

She scoffed, “Geez, you don’t have to be such an asshole about it.”

I let out a humorless laugh, “Well, you’ve caught me at a bad time, and you just royally fucked things up for me. So imma need you to go. Now.”

I watched her stomp out of the room. Once she was gone, I ran toward the exit to find Kat, but she was nowhere in sight. I leaned back against the exterior wall, trying my hardest to keep it together. There was no coming back from this and I knew it. I knew how that had to look. Kat would never believe anything I had to say.

An hour later, I found myself seated at the bar of a local tavern, staring at a full tumbler sitting between my hands. I was officially at the end of my rope and heading for a spiral if I didn’t pull it together within the next few minutes. As I moved to take a sip from the glass, someone sat down beside me.

“I really hope I’m not about to witness Dieter Bravo fall off the wagon.”

I paused just before putting the glass to my lips and turned to find the last person I ever expected sitting beside me. Lana. She had a sly smile on her face as she eyed me.

“I know you had a bad night, but I promise that shitshow is not worth compromising yourself over.”

My lips tugged upward as I sat the glass down, I couldn’t help it. “It’s ironic that you’re the one coming to my rescue. You’re not trying to fuck me too, are you?”

She snorted out a laugh, “Absolutely not. What kind of person do you take me for? I’m not a cheater.”

There was something almost sarcastic in her tone. It took me by surprise. “Speaking of cheaters, where’s Alec? Do I need to be concerned about my safety?”

Her face fell slightly, “No, you don’t need to worry about that. Not tonight. I’m sure he’s off fucking someone else for the evening, which suits me just fine. He’s a shitty lay.”

I chuckled, “Yeah, I’ve heard. So, all is not well in paradise I take it?”

Lana rolled her eyes, “It was never paradise. I’m just doing the job I was hired to do. As soon as the show’s over, I’m heading to London for filming with hopes of never laying eyes on Alec Balaska again.”

I never thought it possible, but Lana Thompson officially had my full attention. My drink was forgotten as I turned to face her fully, “What do you mean the job you were hired to do?”

She had a grin on her face that could rival the Cheshire cat, “Dieter, surely you know there are strings being pulled behind the scenes?”

I nodded, “Of course, but I don’t actually know the details…”

The bartender came by, and Lana took a moment to ask for a glass of water, which shocked me. Then she turned to me, leaning in slightly before she spoke.

“Obviously you can’t breathe a word of this to anyone because if Alec finds out…well…I’d rather not be on the receiving end of that. Anyway, there was a last minute scramble with casting when you insisted on being partnered with Kat. The only reason they let it happen was because I agreed to make moves to split Kat and Alec up. They paid me extra for it. I mean…fucking the guy wasn’t part of the deal, but it was the only way I could get any sway over him. I had originally planned the paparazzi pictures out, so he would look like the asshole and not Kat. I hadn’t planned on her seeing what she saw. I do actually feel like shit about that…”

I was stunned by this news. It was completely unexpected. “Why did you need him to look like the asshole?”

She chuckled, “Isn’t it obvious? They wanted to clear the way for you and Kat to get together without any backlash. You two are the fan favorites this season. It was apparent from the first week. They’re giving the audience what they want…a love story where the underdog gets his shit together and gets the girl, along with amazing dancing. The way I see it, I did you two a favor. I was happy to do it too. Kat deserves better than what she had. He was an asshole to her.”

I stared at her for a beat, trying to process everything she was saying. I should probably be mad over the lengths Stacia and Joe were going to in order to manipulate us all, but I couldn’t be. The chance to have Kat in my life was a win in my book, but I had totally fucked it up.

“So, you're OK being labeled a homewrecker then?” I asked.

She gave me a sad smile, “You know how it is, especially when your career is on the downward slope…even bad press is good press. Besides, if anyone cares to ask me…he told me that he and Kat were over. How was I supposed to know he was lying?”

She shrugged with a mischievous glint in her eye. I laughed, “Ahh, well played then.”

The bartender set the glass of water down in front of Lana. She took a small sip before turning her attention back to me. “So, what’s going on with you and Kat? From the looks of it after New York, I thought everything was going well.”

I sighed, “I’m not even really sure. She asked to put a pause on things until the show is over. I guess it was too much, too fast. I mean, we did just kind of jump into it. She sort of insinuated that she’s having a hard time with my past, like maybe…she doesn’t trust that I’ve fully changed. I thought she was the one person who was giving me a fair shot, ya know? It really hurt to hear it from her. So, I guess we’re just trying to sort through our feelings.”

Lana’s lips set into a tight line, “Have you told her how you really feel though? Or are you being the typical idiot male and dancing around the topic of big feelings.”

My brows furrowed, “Excuse me?”

She laughed, “Have you told her you love her?”

I blinked at her a few times, “Who ever said that I’m…”

She rolled her eyes, “Fucking hell. Both of you are idiots. It’s obvious. Everyone can see it. You both do a shit job at hiding it.”

I puffed air out of my cheeks, “Yeah, I guess you’re right. I’ve been told that a couple of times…But to answer your question…yes. I sort of told her in the middle of my meltdown earlier this week. It wasn’t my best moment. I admit, the delivery could have been better.”

Her perfectly sculpted brow arched, “And? What did she say?”

I laughed humorlessly, “She didn’t really say anything. She just stared at me.”

She snickered, “You two really are idiots...Look, it probably took her off guard. Stunned her a bit…especially if her head is a mess of emotions. I’ll be honest, I don’t know how bad things got between her and Alec, but I do know she was making him go to therapy, anger management, and AA meetings. Now, he wasn’t actually going because he doesn’t care enough to fix himself…but if she was making him do all that, I know it had to be bad. They were together for a long time. Being with someone like that for that long…it’s a serious mind fuck. It makes you doubt yourself…doubt your worth. I’ve been where she’s at, so I get it. I don’t think it’s so much about you not changing as it is about her feeling like she’s not enough to make you happy. And when addicts aren’t happy…what do they do? Go back to old habits. She’s been made to feel like she’s a burden and unworthy of being loved…like she’s the problem. I don’t really know anything about your past, but given your chosen coping mechanisms, I’d wager that you know a thing or two about that?”

I nodded, letting her words settle in. I hadn’t really considered things from this angle even though I should have given my past. It somehow made the hurt I was feeling less painful because I realized Kat was hurting in her own way too. In a way that I completely understood. After talking with Evan, I realized a lot of this was because of Alec, but I had been missing the most crucial parts.

“It’s possible that Kat is struggling to understand what she’s feeling. Being abused physically, emotionally…it really warps your sense of self. It’s confusing and it takes some time to work through. I think if you can be strong enough to give her the space to do that, she’ll come around. In the meantime, be there for her. Support her. Show her how you’re really feeling…don’t make it more complicated than it needs to be because at the end of the day…it has nothing to do with you.”

Fuck me. Lana was right. I was handling this completely wrong. I sat staring at the full tumbler in front of me again, suddenly feeling lost and unsure of how to proceed.

Lana took another sip of water before smiling, “You know…you probably don’t remember this. We worked on a movie together many moons ago. I was just starting out…playing a barista for one scene. I remember being completely repulsed by you that day…you were such a fucking ass.”

My gaze shifted back to her, my brows furrowing as I searched my memories. I shook my head, “I’m sorry, I don’t remember this...”

She laughed quietly, “No, I don’t think you would. I’m pretty sure you were stoned out of your mind. You told me to go get you a coffee during a break. I think you called me ‘sugar tits’ somewhere in the middle of that demand too? Then I told you to go fuck yourself. Another crude joke followed. You had completely forgotten about the interaction by the time the film was rolling again.”

I rubbed at the crease between my brows, “Yeah…I know I was a dick back then. I’m really sorry…”

She cut me off, “I’m not looking for an apology. My point is…I see you. I’ve been on the periphery of your spiral for years…I’ve seen it at parties, at award shows…you’re not that person anymore. Anyone who can’t see that is fucking blind or they just don’t care to. I can tell you’ve turned into a good person. Someone worthy of Kat, so don’t let those doubts get to you, OK?”

I felt a lump forming in my throat. Of all people, Lana fucking Thompson got it. The whole situation. I had to clear the lump before I could speak, “I actually appreciate that. Thank you.”

She smiled, “Now, Imma need you to go get your girl and fix this. Please. I’m a massive Dieterina Stan and I cannot stand to witness this mess any longer.”

I barked out a laugh but quickly sobered. “That may be easier said than done. I really fucked up tonight. I doubt she’s ever gonna speak to me again.”

Her brows knitted together, “What the fuck did you do now?”

I sighed, “Anika invited herself into my dressing room after the show and kissed me. The door was wide open, so I’m pretty sure Kat saw it. After I pushed Anika off, I saw Kat walking away.”

Lana gasped, “Fucking Anika. I swear she is nothing but trouble.” She shook her head, seeming deep in thought for a moment. “Look, just…do what I said. Kat will come around. I know it. This thing with Anika will sort itself out.”

I gave a dismissive laugh, “Yeah…I guess we’ll see about that.”

She gave me a pointed look, “Yeah, we will. Now…you need to get out of this place before it ends up all over TMZ tomorrow. As a matter of fact…”

She reached for the tumbler in front of me, then put it to her lips and took a big gulp of it. She jerked it away from her mouth as her face scrunched up in disgust, “Ugh, what the fuck is that?”

I shrugged as I held in my smile, “Cranberry juice.”

She gave me an admonishing look, “You could have warned me…and here I was thinking it was some sort of mixed cocktail.”

I snickered, “It wouldn’t have been funny if I told you.”

She shook her head, “You may be sober, but the chaos demon lives on…”

I couldn’t help it, I cackled over that. “Ehh, I’m more like a mischief maker these days. The chaos demon was my past life.”

She laughed as I stood from my seat. “Well, Lana, it’s been…an educational evening. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m happy I ran into you. Thank you.”

She gave me a genuine smile, “Anytime. Let me know if I can help with anything.”

I nodded, giving her a small wave as I made my exit.

I went home after that, feeling slightly better about things. If only the Anika thing hadn't happened. That was my biggest obstacle at the moment. I laid down on the sofa, welcoming Zee for a cuddle as I considered my options. Once she settled on my chest and began dozing off, I grabbed my phone. I had a text from Marc asking if I was doing OK after how things had gone tonight and offered his ear if I needed to talk. I appreciated the sentiment and told him as much, promising to get together to grab lunch or dinner soon so we could chat. It would be nice to have a distraction for a little while.

Then I opened Instagram. I was expecting the worst, but I actually had a lot of positive and encouraging comments from fans. It definitely helped the bad mood a little. Then I opened my DMs, realizing I had a message request from someone named Lydia Brown. I was intrigued, so I opened it.

“Hey Dieter, this is Kat’s sister. If you ever tell her I sent this, I will not speak to you again.

Anyway, I talked to her earlier right after the show aired. She’s kind of a mess right now, but I want you to know that she is in love with you. She told me as much. She just doesn't know how to process everything right now. Please don’t give up on her. She’s getting there.”

I huffed out a breath, “Yeah, and I bet you didn’t hear about my latest fuck up yet.”

I tossed my phone on the coffee table and wrapped my arms around Zee, scooting her up closer to my face so I could bury my nose in her fluffy fur. She groaned in protest but rolled over to rub her head against the scruff of my chin before she began purring.

I squeezed her a little tighter, “Don’t worry baby girl, Imma figure out how to get your momma back.”

Next: Week 10

✨ Here is a fun little Jazz video to go along with this depressing chapter that really didn’t focus on dancing at all. It was all about the angst this time. Sorry. 😬

A/N: Good afternoon/evening my lovelies! I hope you are doing well after all the angst. So much happened in this chapter worth discussing. Our sweet Dieter and Kat are struggling, but they are limping along and trying their best. Are we shocked they were even able to rehearse? Are we shocked they had a shitty performance?

Speaking of the performance, are we mad that Joe let Stacia fudged the bottom three results? Stacia obviously isn’t a fan of Alec…does that get her any brownie points? 😂

And then we got Evan and Lydia coming in for a save. Do we think they should be getting in the middle of all this? Also, I love Evan. I just needed to say that.

Now for the elephant in the room…Lana. How do we all feel about her now? Still hate her? Conflicted? Love her? I need to know your thoughts.

How do we think this is all going to play out? How is Dieter going to get his woman (and Zee’s momma 🥹) back after that whole Anika debacle?

Come scream at me about it all! I wanna know your thoughts.

Coming up in the next chapter…

I know the chapter title says it will be the Quickstep, but I may switch it up to the Lambada, just because. We shall see.

Kat gets scolded by her sister.

Kat tends to her plants with thoughts of Dieter on her mind.

Dieter does another Instagram live

Serious conversations are had

We finally find out what the song was that they danced the Viennese Waltz to

Lastly, In case you missed it... new fic in the works.

That’s all I’ve got for today. 💜Mysty

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