#more like an 8 minute review

[ew-selfish-art]

DCxDP AU: Danny and Damian are actually twins but were never raised together- Talia would divide her time between bases, spending time with them separately (but spending more time with Damian). Jason technically only met Danny in his time with the LoA.

It still a very tenuous truce that Jason has with his family when he finally joins them for breakfast after a late night of busting a drug ring. And sue him, he's never cared to look at the little one that closely when he's not pointing a knife in his direction. But then the little Bat Brat turned his face towards the ray of light streaming into the family room of the Manor and Jason caught a closer look to the… green color. Huh.

“Hey demon, when you died did you come back with those green eyes?” Jason calls out, and perhaps it’s a little antagonistic but something deeply unsettles the crime lord about this.

“Tt. I’ve always had green eyes Todd. Your observation skills remain dulled-“ Damian begins to berate him but Jason’s scowl deepens and he interrupts.

“No, they were definitely Bruce’s color blue when I met you with Talia- I punched your lights out because of it remember?” Jason supplies, looking perturbed and having a small child look equally perturbed back at him.

“You never met me in Nanda Parbat. And mother would have never allowed you to attack above your station and live.”

“Kid I literally have the scars from my punishment. My memory from that time after the pit might not be great or even good but I know, I know I punched your lights out.”

“No doubt you have been fooled by a clone then-“ Damian says but he looks upset.

“Talia called you Dami then, you’ve never let us call you that.” Jason supplies further, he was certain that Talia had introduced him as her son.

“I was never called such an informal name.” But Damian looks disturbed more than he looks like he wants to fight.

Eventually, after combing through their collective memory of Talia's where abouts and Damian's lack of interaction with Todd, it’s decided that they have to talk to Drake who was there the most recently. Neither wants to add the fact that he's also the most knowledgeable family member when it comes to the LoA now.

“Huh? Yeah, it looks like Talia kept ledgers dividing her time between two places- the journal reads like there is Dami as Damian but… maybe it’s Dami AND Damian…” Tim reviews the books he robbed them of with a fine tooth comb and suddenly this pattern of using the “nickname” and the “full name” start to show a “first child” and a “second child”.

Damian was clearly the favorite. The ‘Dami’ kid was sent away on a suicide mission pretty early in their lives, he would have left right after Todd did at the age of 8-ish. They all groaned at the cold trail following this assignment he failed to return from- it meant that they had to involve Bruce with a DNA search of the local areas the kid had been sent to across the globe. One of which, weirdly enough, was in Illinois.

…

“My name isn’t Daniel” Danny sighs at yet another event the Mansons brought him to with Vlad looking over his shoulder every five minutes.

Then the weird skinny kid who’s the big talk of the town approaches him with some guy built like a tank and says: “It’s Damian, isn’t it?”

Danny literally sinks through the floors, but in his attempts to run out the back door he’s stopped- By a guy that has Danny's own face and a very sharp looking knife pressed to Danny's throat.

In short- Danny introduced himself to the Fentons as “Dami” but they misheard him and called him Danny and fuck it, it’s close enough.

Now it turns out that their mother only planned on one surviving the artificial womb and gave them very different amounts of her time- so she just gave them the same name and reported it like she only had one child.

[whatsnewalycat]

RUTHLESS

Stepdad Joel Miller x Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ ONLY)

Word Count: 5.1k+

Warnings: DDDNE, literally just a fucked up stepdad/mom's bf fantasy, could read "mom" as tess but I don't name her or assign physical features to her or reader, post-outbreak, reader is def over 18 but not by much so yeah age gap, NON-CONSENSUAL, power imbalance, unethical d/s dynamic, slapping, spanking, punishment, orgasm delay/denial, humiliation, degradation, face fucking, anal sex, little to no aftercare

A/N: Category is "That old man would fucking never... but if he did..." Please be mindful of the warnings and don't read if it might trigger you. Sorry, mom. Sorry, God.

[ my masterlist ] [ taglist ] [ AO3 ]

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Within the secluded world of your big noise-canceling headphones, you scan through silence on the CB radio, pausing for a few seconds on each channel before moving on to the next. 

Channel 11: Nothing. 

Channel 12: Zilch. 

Channel 13: Nada. 

When you turn the dial to channel 14, though, you pick up chatter and start transcribing. 

Channel 14 7/17/22 19:56

—got a bundle of carrots today. Budaydas, onions, too. Want me to come by tomorrow and make some stew? Over. 

Got enough for the kids? Over. 

And leftovers. Over. 

I’ll be at Margie’s around supper time. Over and out. 

The air goes silent.

After a minute goes by with no follow up transmissions, you glance at the clock. 7:58. Almost time for check-in. 

You tune the radio to channel 32 and review your transcription. 

Many people speak in code, encrypting their messages in seemingly benign conversations. To the untrained ear, they’re normal exchanges, people making small talk about jobs and rations and kids. Goodnight calls and check-ins that use predictable inquiries to convey messages. 

—got a bundle of carrots today. Budaydas, onions, too. Want me to come by tomorrow and make some stew?

Most of it you can translate from memory. The drug traffickers that use channel 14 have frequented the same lingo for years. Likely because of the high turnover rate of personnel. There’s less confusion that way. Confusion in communication raises more alarm bells for eavesdroppers than using the same code words across the board. 

You flip through your cipher for channel 14, searching for budaydas, but find nothing. Scrunching your nose up, you say the word out loud, “Budaydas. Buh-day-das.” 

Carrots, onions, budaydas in a stew. 

“Oh,” you nod in understanding, then jot down your translation, muttering under your breath, “Fucking Boston accents.” 

(Someone) picked up tranquilizers, benzos (budaydas = potatoes), and opioids. The caller wants to meet up and trade as previously agreed. 

The rest of it is easy enough to interpret without the use of a cipher. You probably don’t need to write down the translation, but do it in case your mom or Joel need to reference the notes at a later date. 

There’s enough to distribute product across their network of dealers in Boston QZ, plus more to stockpile. They’ll meet at their hub in Area 1, Margaret St, at midnight. 

You exhale through slack lips, glancing at the clock as it ticks over to 8:00, then pick up the microphone and hold down the speak button. 

“Radio check.” 

A few seconds go by before you hear a familiar gruff voice crackle over the radio waves into your ears, “Loud and clear. Over.”

Your nostrils flare when you hear him. Joel Miller. The bane of your existence. Your de facto stepfather, only because you don’t really remember life without him by your mom’s side. 

This isn’t to say he’s a father figure to you by any means. The two of you never shared the kind of heartwarming paternal bonding moments you read about in books. That would require warmth and vulnerability, which he distinctly lacks. 

Once, when you were maybe 11 or 12, you made the mistake of calling him Dad. The way he looked at you made you feel like dirt. Fire burning behind his dark eyes, he corrected you with one stern syllable that taught you your place: “Joel.” 

You sit up straighter and take a moment to gather yourself before responding. 

“Did you get your message from Uncle Paul? Over.”

“I did. Over.” 

“How’s the weather in Kansas City? Over.” 

“Cloudy. Over.” 

Fuck. 

You swallow around nothing, then clear your throat and ask, “And Grandma, how’s she? Over.”

“Fine, just busy is all.”

You exhale a sigh of relief that melts the tension between your shoulders. Joel continues. 

“Anything new with you? Over.” 

Tapping your fingers on your notes, you answer, “Rumor has it the market is gonna be busy tomorrow. Harvesting time, I guess. Other than that, same old same old. What about you? Staying out of trouble? Over.”

It feels strange, having a casual conversation with him like this. Even if it’s just a data exchange dressed up as a casual conversation. 

There’s a long pause, then he says, “Fine, yeah. Well. See you soon. Over ‘n’ out.” 

Stiff as a board. Cold as ice. Joel Miller, everyone. Round of applause. 

You snort, rolling your eyes as you unplug the headphones and toss them on the table. It takes a moment for you to re-acclimate to your surroundings. 

The dingy two-bedroom apartment is quiet and still. Outside, the setting sun casts the world in a dark golden haze. A FEDRA patrol vehicle roars down the street, broadcasting the curfew alert from a loudspeaker. Faint shouting from a few units down momentarily piques your curiosity before you decide it’s none of your business. 

You stand from the chair and reach your hands above your head, lungs expanding in a powerful yawn, then take a lap around the apartment to stretch your legs. 

Something catches your eye when you walk by the entry. A note slipped under the doorframe. On the outer fold, your name is written in a familiar scrawl. 

Your heart skips a beat. 

You pick it up and unfold the paper, revealing an invitation. 

I miss you. Come over when you’re done surfing the airwaves. XO, Bert. 

Warmth trickles down between your thighs. A smile spreads across your face. You glance up at the door, then to the CB radio and scanner on the desk. 

Indecision churns in your belly. 

You are explicitly forbidden from leaving the apartment while your mom and Joel are out on runs. A safety precaution you’ve protested dozens of times to no avail. They expect you to stay put and warn them if you notice any signs of potential danger. In return, you receive a cut of the profit and a roof over your head. Security, in short. Which is more than most could say. 

That being said… You break this rule from time to time, when the circumstances allow. 

Like when the Fireflies and FEDRA have been quiet for weeks and there are no smoke signals in sight. Like when you’re five nights into a seven day seclusion and think you might die of boredom if you don’t get the fuck out of here. Like when your boyfriend slips a note under the door and asks you to come over. 

You look down at the paper in your hands, re-reading the words I miss you. 

Fuck it, what’s the worst that could happen? 

—

Just before midnight, you wander down the hallway to your unit, jelly knees wobbling with each step. As you absentmindedly trace your tingling lips, still puffy from kissing, you unlock the door and push it open, then frown. 

The lights are on. 

They were off when you left, you’re sure of it. When you step further into the apartment, your foot catches on something. A backpack. This faint buzzing starts behind your ears as you blink at it, wishing it would go away.

Motherfu—

“Where the fuck have you been?” 

Your stomach plummets to the floor when you hear his voice. A thick knot of panic tightens around your windpipe as you look up to find Joel standing just a few paces away in the living room. 

He stares you down, dark eyes glowing with fury, and questions you again, “Where were you?” 

“N-nowhere.” 

The blatant lie sits sour on your tongue. His lips purse, so you fumble out another, “I went for a walk.” 

“A walk,” he repeats, tone disbelieving, “You went on a walk after curfew wearing that?” 

You look down at your clothing. A short skirt and tank top. Your throat bobs in a guilty gulp, then you meet his eyes again and nod. 

“And when did you leave on this ‘walk?’”

Your mind whirs as you try to come up with an answer. It feels like a trap. You try to calculate an answer that will provide minimal blowback. 

“I don’t know, maybe twenty minutes ago?” 

“Try again.” 

The electricity humming through you takes on a red, frustrated edge, and you snip, “I don’t fucking know, dude. It was a while ago, I wasn’t paying attention. Where’s my mom?” 

“Your mom sent me here to make sure you were alive,” he says pointedly, taking slow, deliberate steps towards you, “We’ve been tryin’a reach you for three hours. I got here an hour ago. That’s a helluva lot longer than twenty minutes, ain’t it?” 

Shrinking into yourself, you search his face. Jaw set, eyes boring into yours. Waves of anger roll off him as he approaches, and you remember all those rumors you heard about him on the radio. The fear you heard in grown men’s voices when they recounted run-ins with that bitch and her guard dog. 

You remember what Bert said about him: He’s fucking ruthless.

“You aren’t supposed to leave the apartment when we’re outside the QZ.” 

“I know.” 

“Then why did you?” 

Your heart thuds against your ribcage. 

Joel has never directed this kind of outright anger towards you. Sternness, sure. Contempt, maybe. But this is different. You’re in fucking trouble. 

There has to be a way out of this conversation.

You drop your gaze to the floor and ask, “Is my mom ok? Did something happen to her?”

“Don’t change the subject.” 

Righteous indignation straightens your spine and wills you to meet his eyes again, “I’m not saying shit until you tell me what happened to her.” 

“She sprained her ankle, but she’s fine. She’s safe,” he tells you, then takes another step forward, “Why did you leave?” 

You respond by rolling your eyes. 

“Answer the question.” 

With an irritated sigh, you search his face, then tell him, “You don’t know what it’s like to be here. Isolated for days or weeks at a time. I fucking hate it. It’s so lonely and boring, I feel like I’m losing my mind—”

“Oh, cry me a goddamn river.” 

You scowl at him, staring him down, “Fuck you.” 

“Watch your fucking mouth, you disrespectful little shit.” 

Red flashes through your field of vision, hot and angry and defiant. You gather the moisture in your mouth on your tongue and spit at him. It splats on his cheek. 

His face twists up with fury for one second before he charges, closing the distance between you. The impact pushes your back to the door with a thud. 

He grabs your jaw, fingers digging hard into the soft flesh of your cheeks. His eyes are hot coals, burning into you. The muscles in his jaw twitch, nostrils flaring, breath shaky. 

When he speaks, it’s through gritted teeth, “You don’t know what it’s like out there.” 

“No, because you won’t let me fucking leave—”

“You should be fucking grateful, you know that? Being here is a fucking cake walk. Your mom ‘n’ I have seen things, done things—horrible things you couldn’t even imagine,” he husks, searching your face, grip tightening so hard it makes you whine. “We keep you safe, and all we ask is that you stay put and keep a lookout for us when we’re gone.” 

Even if you wanted to respond, you can’t. The vice grip he has on your face renders your mouth immobile. 

All you can do is stare back at him, studying his furrowed brow and clenched jaw. Full lips pinched thin as he glowers at you. 

You notice how close his broad body is to yours. The heat radiating off his tightly-wound muscles onto your skin. His ragged breath scatters across your face and wafts into your open mouth. You taste the bootleg whiskey on his breath and your pulse jumps. 

Warmth drips down your spine and pools at the center of you, a horrifying sensation that makes you squirm.

“Were you with your little boyfriend? Hmm?” he asks, eyes darting around your face, trailing down to your body for a moment before returning, “That boy downstairs? Figure you musta been, on account of how you’re dressed.” 

You don’t say anything. You can’t. But it doesn’t matter, because it’s not really a question. 

“Abandoning your post to go out and get fucked, is that it?” 

A whimper slips from your throat as heat swells beneath your skin. 

He wouldn’t be treating you like this if your mom was here. He wouldn’t say these things or be this close to you. Knowing this, you understand that whatever is happening right now is wrong. 

You also understand that you like it. 

You hate that you like it, and hate him for making you like it, but you like it all the same. 

Letting go of your face, he demands, “Answer me.” 

“Fuck you.” 

Before you even realize what’s happening, you feel a sharp, hot sting on your cheek and yelp.

He fucking slapped you. 

“Wrong answer.” 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” you retort, bringing your hand to the welt forming on your cheek, “I’m gonna tell her.” 

“Yeah? You gonna tell her I found you sneaking in at midnight, too? That you compromised our safety to go out ‘n’ get dicked down?” 

You harden your gaze on him, lips pressing together with disdain. 

“She wouldn’t like that, would she?” he asks, the smallest smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, “She’d probably kick you out on your ass.” 

“She wouldn’t. You guys need me.” 

“And you need us,” he counters, searching your face, “So what do we do to make sure this doesn’t happen again? Hmm?” 

A dozen inappropriate images flash through your head, each more lurid than the last. An electric, tingling feeling shoots out from the base of your spine and works through your extremities. 

You swallow hard and shake your head, “I won’t do it again.” 

“If I don’t punish you, you will. You’re fucking disrespectful. Selfish. You need discipline.” 

Again, a flash of frustration taints the world red. Crossing your arms over your chest, you scoff, “Just because you’re fucking my mom doesn’t mean you’re my dad. I am an adult and you are not the boss of me.” 

He sighs and takes a step back, planting his hands on his hips. His gaze drifts around the empty apartment, jaw gnashing back and forth for a moment before he returns to twist the deadbolt closed and grab your arm. 

“What the f—” you swat at him and dig your heels into the floor, but it does nothing as he drags you by his steel grip, pulling you stumbling along behind him into the living room. 

He sits on the couch and forces you to lay over his bent knees, one big hand securing your wrists behind your back while the other flattens against the swell of your ass cheek. As soon his touch leaves, it returns, a sharp snap tingling across your skin. 

Shocked doesn’t even begin to describe the chaos throbbing through you. 

“You’re right, you’re an adult. And I’m not your dad,” he asserts, lifting his hand. Your whole body clenches in anticipation. “But as long as you live here, I am the fucking boss of you,” he slaps your ass again, “Do you understand me?” 

It surprises you when you hear yourself sob, “I’m sorry—”

He does it again and again, hissing, “Yeah, you’re fucking sorry now, aren’t you?” 

Each firm slap he lays down is firm, unflinching. Ruthless. 

It overwhelms your senses and becomes the only thing you feel. The universe world narrows down to just his palm on your skin. The reliable and exquisite pain ringing through you. Smack. Smack. Smack. 

Every time he draws his hand back, you don’t think you can handle it again. But you do. 

Soon, you start to crave the impact. His skin on your skin. You can’t feel the start or end of it. It’s just him and you. Pain and pleasure. Sobs and moans, all blended together. 

Far away, you hear him chide you for not wearing underwear beneath your skirt. Then he asks, “Are you fucking enjoying this?” 

Too ashamed to admit it, all you do is whimper in response.

Smack. 

He sucks in breath through his teeth, then grabs the meat of your ass and rumbles, “You do, don’t you?” 

When his grasp on your wrists releases, you pull your elbows beneath you and look over your shoulder at him, watching as he spreads your cheeks apart and stares down between your legs. You’re probably shiny and wet with the evidence of your desire. 

His lips form an ‘o’ when he kneads you back together and spreads you apart again. The motion teases all your hungry nerves and makes you moan. It feels so fucking good. 

You realize then that he’s grown stiff against your belly, hard cock leaving no mistake. 

“You fucking like it, too, don’t you?” you ask him, your voice breathy and amused, “I can feel how turned on you are.” 

Slipping a hand between your bodies, you press against his strained zipper. His cock jumps at the contact, and he groans, dragging his fingers through your slick lips. 

“Oh my god,” you gasp, eyes fluttering closed as you nod in approval. He works your clit in steady, firm circles while you smooth your hand along the big bulge in his pants, letting out a string of whines at the bubbling pleasure inside you. 

You lose yourselves here, both of you squirming and panting and petting the other. So wrapped up with how fucking good it feels that you forget to feel ashamed. 

When he smacks your ass now, you croak through clenched teeth, “Fuck yes.”

He likes that you like it. You can tell by the way he groans and throbs beneath you. This knowledge inspires your pulse to pound and your muscles to tense. 

“Joel,“ you whimper, opening your eyes to meet his heavy-lidded gaze, “I’m gonna fucking come, don’t stop—”

“Did I give you permission to do that?” he asks, slowing his touch to a torturous rhythm, “Did I say you could come?” 

You shake your head and whine, “Please, Joel, please—”

“Are you sorry for what you did?” 

“I’m sorry—”

“Are you gonna do it again?”

“No no no, I won’t, I promise, I’ll be a good girl—”

He groans, tossing his head back as you frantically rub at the bulge in his pants. Your palm chafes against the stiff denim, but you don’t stop. You would do this for eternity if it meant he’d let you find your release. 

“Oh yeah, you’ll be a good fucking girl for me?” he asks, touching you just soft and slow enough to twist your nerves ragged, but keep your orgasm out of reach. 

“I will, I promise. Please, Joel,” you whisper, holding his gaze as your face gets all hot, “Please make me come, please please—”

“Show me you mean it.” 

He doesn’t need to explain what he means. While he takes off his jeans, you scramble off his lap and kneel between his spread knees. His eyes stay glued to yours as you slide your hands up his thighs. 

Batting your lashes at him, you wrap your lips around his swollen cock. He fills your mouth. He feels smooth but hard against your tongue. He tastes salty and heady and when you inhale the musk of him, you moan around his girth. 

Nodding, he anchors his grip behind your head and bucks his hips, forcing his dick down your throat. When you gag, he doesn’t let up, but thrusts into the sensation, grunting, “Fuck. Yes,” before letting you pull off, gasping for air.

You wrap your hands around him, all shiny and slick with drool, and pump his length for a moment while you catch your breath, then take him in your mouth again. 

This time, you sit up taller. You relish the stretch of your lips as you bob up and down. Savor the tug of his fingers curled tight in your hair. Memorize the sound of his huffs and grunts as he fucks your face. The wet squelching gurgle of his cock squeezing down your windpipe. 

“Look at me,” he orders, so you do. 

He’s all blurred from your watering eyes, but you can make out the dark irises and stay locked onto them while relaxing the muscles of your throat to take him easier. When you make an enthusiastic humming noise, he groans. It’s wanton and lusty and lights a fire in your belly. 

Joel has never treated you this hard or soft. His regard for you has always been callous. Closed-off. Indifferent. With your assistance on the radio, he treated you like a tool for survival. Before that, or even in-between smuggling runs, he treated you like some kind of a household pet he had little regard for. Your mom’s responsibility, never his. 

For years and years, you ached for more. 

When you were younger, you used to sit up nights and wonder if he’d ever consider you his daughter. He wouldn’t, though. He won’t. 

But this is something. 

Distinctly, you want to please him. Be the best he ever had. You want to sink your claws into his brain and leave your mark for years to come. You want him to look at you after this and feel a flicker of desire and self-loathing. You want him to think of you when he fucks your mom. You want him to hate how you made him feel. 

When you pull off him and start to work his soaked length with your hands, you pant, “Does that feel good? Am I doing a good job sucking your cock?” 

“It’s good,” he nods, lets out a groan that pinches his eyes shut, then meets your gaze again, “So fucking good, Jesus Christ. Is this what you were out doing tonight? Sucking cock?” 

“Not tonight.” 

“But he fucked you, didn’t he? That boy?” 

You nod, stroking him slower. His eyelids flutter. 

“Did he fuck your pussy or your ass?” 

The question sends a jolt through your middle. You recall the sex you had with Bert. Barely an hour has gone by since he pulled out of your cunt to shoot his load on the mattress, but it feels like a lifetime ago. 

“My pussy,” you answer, then gather a thick, hot wad of saliva on your tongue and spit on his cock. You spread it with a slow churning motion, watching Joel’s face twist up with pleasure. 

“Were you bein’ smart about it at least?” he asks, studying you, “We don’t need you getting knocked up.” 

“He pulled out,” you shrug. 

He grunts in acknowledgment, then sits up and pulls on your arm to join him on the couch, “C’mere.” 

You follow his guidance, lying back on the cushions as he strips off his shirt. 

The only times you’ve seen him shirtless were accidental and slightly embarrassing for both of you. But now, you notice how his smooth chest glows in the dim light. Now, when you drink in the sight of his big arms and broad shoulders, heat bubbles up your spine.

While you pull your tank top off over your head, he tugs your skirt down your thighs, asking, “You ever taken it up the ass?” 

You shake your head. 

His eyebrows jump a little like he’s surprised. A sadistic kind of smirk plays across his lips as he pushes your knees up to your chest, then spreads you apart, the head of him nudging at your backdoor. 

He doesn’t ask for permission. He doesn’t ask if you want it this way, or if you want him to be the first. He doesn’t even warn you about the initial shock and pain you experience when he rocks his hips forward and breaches the tight hole. 

You yelp and try to lurch away from the sharp pain, but he grabs you and holds you there. 

Sitting up on your elbows, you cry, “That fucking hurts, Joel.”

“Wouldn’t be much of a punishment if it didn’t hurt a little, would it?” he murmurs, disinterested, watching your asshole stretch to accommodate the head of his cock. 

The sensation is overwhelming. Like being stabbed or split open. At first, you hate it. You sputter and gasp and shake your head as he pushes himself in further and further. 

Then he pauses the invasion, releasing his steel grip on you to tilt your chin up and meet his gaze, “Just relax.”

His eyes burn into yours, making your pulse jump. You bear witness to his heaving chest and parted lips and feel him twitch inside you. Sparks sizzle across your body, but you still scowl at him. 

“It hurts, I don’t like it.“ 

“It’ll get better, you just gotta relax,” he coaches.

“Why can’t we just have normal sex?”

He grunts, thinks about it for a moment, then tells you, “First off, this is not normal sex,” he points between your chest and his, “This will not be a normal thing, you understand?” 

It stings a little, if you’re being honest. But you nod, “I understand.” 

Nodding, he licks his lips. He throbs inside you, hips jerking a little in reaction. This time, the friction feels good enough to make you whimper. 

“Second, we don’t need another mouth to feed around here,” he says, searching your face, “We’re stretched thin enough as is. You know what I mean?”

“But if you—”

“Pulling out can still stick. This way’s tried and true, trust me.” 

“Trust you,” you scoff under your breath and roll your eyes. 

“What’s that?” 

You meet his hardened gaze, feeling emboldened enough to ask, “Do you fuck my mom in the ass?” 

“That’s none of your business,” he warns. 

“So, what, you can interrogate me about my sex life, but I can’t do the same?” 

“That’s right,” he barks, “Know why?” 

In response, you glare at him. 

He takes this moment of bitter silence to drag his knuckles up your slick, swollen lips. The light touch branches out beneath your skin and makes your heart pound. You gasp a little, but try to hide it. He clocks it immediately. 

“There we go,” he murmurs under his breath, almost as an aside, smoothing the pad of his thumb in soft circles on your clit. Pleasure churns beneath the touch, hot and hungry for more. When you whimper, Joel’s eyes go wild for a second, then he says, “I am the fucking boss of you, understand?” 

You swallow a moan as he arches forward and starts to roll his hips. It feels better now. Good. Fucking amazing, almost. Electric and gooey. He fills you so completely with each thrust, you wonder how you can even breathe. 

“So if I tell you to be home, that’s where you’ll be. If I ask you where you’ve been, who you were with, what you were doing—you tell me the truth. Understand?” 

Nodding, you gasp, “I understand.” 

“You don’t get to ask me about your mom. You don’t tell your mom. You don’t sneak out to go get fucked by some boy who doesn’t even know what to do with you—”

“Holy shit, Joel I’m gonna—” you gasp at the pressure building at the base of your spine, spreading thick and hot and delicious across your body. 

“And you don’t come without my fucking permission. Understand?” 

“I understand I understand,” you cry, literal tears burning behind your eyes at the ache of trying to keep the ecstasy at bay, “Please can I come, please please please—”

“Are you sorry?” 

“I’m sorry, I’ll never do it again—”

“That’s right, you’ll never fucking do it again. Why’s that?”

“You’re the boss,” you beg, your voice so raw and pleading it sounds foreign. He pounds into you now, a wet slap that echoes off the apartment walls. It takes all your concentration to keep your pleasure contained, to not spill over the edges, but you hear yourself babble somewhere far away. 

“You’re the fucking boss. I’m sorry I’m sorry I won’t disobey you again I’ll be a good girl I’ll do anything just please give me permission to come daddy please please please—”

When he moans, loud and depraved, it just about breaks you, but you manage to keep your resolve long enough for him to pant, “Go ahead, let it go.” 

With a choked sob, you untether your pleasure and allow it to expand, growing hot and wide and unlike anything you’ve ever felt. Every muscle in your body tenses up as the sensation swallows you whole, then spits you back up, sending wave after wave across your body.

“That’s it, that’s a good girl,” he grunts, taking his hand from your clit to hold your knees down and fuck your ass hard and fast and ruthless.

It surprises you when heat starts stretching out from the middle of you again. Your heart starts to race as the feeling grows. 

“Ffffuuuuck,” you whimper, “That feels so fucking good—”

“I told you, didn’t I?” 

“You did you did holy shit,” you meet his eyes and nod frantically, “I love it I love it—please can you come in my ass?” 

“Is that what you want? Want me to come in your tight little asshole?” 

A feral noise escapes you, and you sob, “Yes—”

“Do you wanna come too?”

“Yes—oh my god, yes, please please please daddy—”

“Come with me, baby.”

You let the feeling overtake you again, gasping out, “thank you thank you thank you,” as it takes you strong and fast. Pleasure pulses through your body, causing you to convulse and strain against Joel’s grip spreading you open. He releases a moan from his belly and gives you a hard, deep thrust that he holds for a shuddering moment. After emptying himself inside you, he pulls out, falling back to his seat on the couch. 

Chest heaving, you prop yourself up on your elbows and study him. He pinches his eyes shut and catches his breath before meeting your gaze again. 

His expression goes soft long enough for something dangerous to flicker between you. 

Then he turns away and starts getting dressed. 

“Get yourself together, I’m gonna go get your mom.” 

As you sit up, you fold your legs into your body and watch him button his shirt. 

“Joel—”

He looks at you, searching your face expectantly, but your brain goes static and you’re not even sure what you were going to say. 

“This stays between us, understand?” 

His tone is firm but gentle. You swallow hard and nod, “I understand.” 

Nodding, he glances down at your lips, then back to your eyes. He rises to his feet to leave, but before he does, he leans down to press a kiss into your forehead. 

“Good girl.” 

[ NEXT PART ]

[thatgirlie-diaries]

Things I do to take care of myself

Inspired by @theambitiouswoman

Hello girlies! On this blog I'm going to write down all the habits I do to take care of my self. These ones I have been practicing them since a long time and I know they maintain me healthy, happy, balanced and stress free. I hope I can inspire you to discover the habits that make you feel your best and start doing some of the things I do!

My habits

Have a morning and night routine to follow

Sleep 8 hours on a consistent schedule

Eat at least one fruit a day, along three healthy meals and drink enough water

Pray when I wake up

Do yoga in the morning and meditate at night

Do my skincare 2 times daily (morning and night)

Have an "everything shower" 2x times per week

Listen to positive affirmations in the morning

Dress up pretty every time I'm going out

Listen a podcast daily

Read one chapter of a book daily

Dedicate one hour for introspective journaling and healing yoga + meditation 2xtimes per week

Use less than 4 hours my phone (15 minutes max on every social media app)

Unfollow any account that doesn't make me feel good with myself or consume content that doesn't inspire me

Study a language 30 minutes - 1 hour 3x times per week

Spend time with my loved ones during the week

Write down a journal entry before sleep

Be productive and focus on my tasks to be free the more time possible

Make a daily to-do list

Maintain my personal space clean

Take my daily supplements after breakfast

Look from time to time my vision boards

Dedicate time to prepare my meals and make lunch for university (instead of spending)

Keep track of my financial movementes

Focus on living in the present and be carefree about life

Smile, be kind and maintain the calm with people

On my free time do things I love ( like blogging, gaming, watch YT, etc)

Be mindful of all the sensorial stimulation (use less screens and earphones)

Respect when my body needs to rest

Have a optimistic mindset that works in my favor

Play with and take care of my pets (my happy pills)

Have a "Sunday reset" routine dedicated to deep cleaning, laundry, weekly review and planning, self-care, etc

See you on the next blog! 𑄽𑄺ྀ

[incorrectbatfam]

Tim and stpeh’s top ten patrol fails

——— (10) ———

Tim and Steph: *chained together*

Two-Face: *monologues*

Tim: *picks the lock*

Steph, whispering: Free me first.

Tim: Why?

Steph: Just do it.

Tim: *frees her*

Steph: *sprints past Two-Face to the bathroom*

——— (9) ———

Steph: I'm closing in on the museum. Where are you?

Tim: ETA one minute.

Steph: Alright, I'm doing a quick perimeter check. Doesn't seem like there's much happening here.

Tim: Where are you? I don't see you. And this entire gallery looks deserted.

Steph: I've never heard anyone call a science museum a gallery.

Tim: Science? I'm at the modern art museum.

Steph: Red?

Tim: Yeah?

Steph: We're both at the wrong place, aren't we?

——— (8) ———

Tim and Steph: *tied to chairs*

Ivy: I gave the city ONE REASONABLE DEMAND and they—

Steph: *scoots her chair*

Ivy: —but all they cared about was—

Steph: *scoots her chair*

Ivy: So now I'm going to make them pay for—what are you doing?

Steph, biting an apple: ...

Tim: She gets snacky.

——— (7) ———

[on a stakeout]

Tim, stifling a yawn: What time is it?

Steph: Half past one. Still nothing on the drop site. If you need some shut eye you can tell me.

Tim: Nah, I'll just use my phone.

Steph: *peers over his shoulder*

Steph: You're reading an adopted by Batman AU?

Tim: ...I was hacked. Just right now.

——— (6) ———

Steph: I could use a little backup.

Tim, shooting his grapple: I'm on my way. How many are there?

Steph: Four, though I bet more are hiding.

Tim: In that case, we better get you out of there instead of wasting time.

Tim: *swings by*

Tim: Grab on.

Steph: *grabs his legs and pulls his pants down*

——— (5) ———

Tim: What should I call my next contingency plan?

Steph: Fuck if I know.

[later]

Barbara: Alright, Tim, let's review your plan for...

Barbara: *squints*

Barbara: Everybody leave. I want to talk to Tim alone.

——— (4) ———

Tim: I'm not so sure about my disguise.

Steph, dressed like the 1980s: It's an 80s-themed roller derby. No way you can mess that up.

Tim: *shows up dressed like the 1880s*

Steph: I stand corrected.

——— (3) ———

Steph: You need to put that computer down. Have a Batburger.

Tim: No. I've almost got it. And don't try to distract me 'cause I've seen everything.

Steph, whispering under her breath: You haven't seen Superboy.

Kon: You called?

Tim: Oh for crying out loud.

——— (2) ———

Tim: *driving the Batmobile*

Steph: Hey, what does this button do?

Tim: NO DON'T THAT—

Steph: *hits the button*

Tim: *gets ejected*

——— (1) ———

Steph: Another successful patrol, if I say so myself.

Tim: All in a night's work.

Bruce: Where's Damian?

Tim: Huh?

Bruce: You were supposed to watch him.

Steph: Pfft, we knew that. He's right... uh...

Tim: We're just gonna—

Tim and Steph: *hop in the car and speed away*

——— (Honorable mention) ———

Steph: No sign of Robin at the dog shelter either. Did you locate his tracker?

Tim: It's offline. Best case scenario he just disabled it, but...

Steph: Oh God, we are in so much trouble.

Tim: Any other ideas?

Steph: Nope. I'm gonna get a drink of water real quick.

Steph: *goes into a store*

Steph: *comes back out with Damian*

Steph: Guess who I found trying to buy a butterfly knife?

Tim: I'll update Batman.

Tim, on the phone: Hey B, guess what?

Damian: *snatches the phone*

Damian: They abandoned me in Crime Alley!

Bruce: Red Robin, Spoiler, you're cleaning the lockers when you get back.

Tim: No wait—

Damian: *hangs up*

[sinnersweets]

DogDay x Reader

part 2 ----->

A/N: My HC is that DogDay has an adult inside of him, unlike Catnap.

“Congragulations! Your application was chosen, and you are now part of the Playtime Co family! Please review all the following information provided in this email.” was all that was said in a recent email I had gotten. Finally, after weeks of job hunting, I heard back from someone, and it only took them a day to respond! I briefly skimmed through the email, knowing it was just boring company policies. At the very bottom it said that my first day was tomorrow. Wow, they sure do not waste time. I set an alarm and went to bed early, excited about my new job. 

---------------- 

When I applied, I put down that I did not mind working anywhere in the factory so imagine how surprised I was when I showed up, they told me I would be working down below in a room called ‘Playcare.’ In fact, it was highly requested that I was to be stationed there. They told me it’s where they house orphans. It’s fascinating that a factory that builds toys for kids has its own orphanage here, right in the factory! I was given a uniform to change into and the uniform was honestly quite cute! The shirt was a golden-brown color that smelled like vanilla, I was given a nametag with a sun pin attached and... a headband with dog ears the same color. I didn’t think much of it and just went to change before heading off to Playcare. 

--------------- 

I stared in awe as I looked down below at Playcare. This place was huge! I still could not believe that little kids lived here. I looked around at all the buildings. There was a school, a circus tent, a few more buildings and right up top was where all the orphans lived. Seeing all of this gave me the vibe of that one anime called ‘The Promised Neverland’ but I soon laughed at the thought. Kids do not die here, no demons feed on their brains, they get adopted. Adopted. 

--------------- 

As I exited the cable car, I was instructed to meet my boss inside of the Playhouse. While walking to the playhouse some kids would run up to me and call me ‘girl DogDay’ whatever that meant. I just smiled and waved at them before entering the Playhouse. I was not given a name for who my boss was but was just told that they would know what I looked like and would spot me. Lots of kids were in this area. All screaming and chasing each other. One of them grabbed my hand and said, “Hurry we have to hide before he finds us!” I had no time to protest as I was led behind some foam building blocks. “Um, who exactly are we hiding from?” I whispered back to the kid, might as well play along. “Shh. He has good hearing.” was all that the kid said before peeking over the blocks we were hiding at.  

--------------- 

Two minutes went by before we both heard some footsteps approaching. “He’s coming! Run!” and then the kid ran into a slide and started to climb up. I laughed at the kids' action and started to get up before I felt breathing coming from above me. I slowly lifted my head up and was shocked to see a giant dog hovering above me. “Hiya Angel!” I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t say anything, I was in shock. This enormous dog that looks like a plushy is speaking to me. “I found you which means now you get to help out with catching everyone!” The dogs tailed wagged. I stood up and got a good look at this...dog thing. He was tall, around 8 ft. He had a pendant in the shape of a sun, and he smelled like vanilla. Oh, that’s what the kids meant earlier by ‘girl DogDay,’ this is DogDay. “Come on Angel, I know if we work together, we can find all the kids before time is up” and then DogDay ran on all fours like an actual dog, in search of the other kids.  

--------------- 

I think it was safe to say that DogDay found the rest of the kids while I just knew of the one that was with me before was hiding at. As we made our way back to the entrance, I noticed the kids laughing and trying to climb onto DogDay. Maybe he’s been with them forever and that’s why they don’t seem terrified by a dog that stands 8 ft tall. DogDay looked over and saw me and the last kid approaching and waved at us. The other kids stopped what they were doing and looked in my direction. In unison they all screamed “Girl DogDay is here!” I smiled sheepishly and waved at them. “Hi there....” Did these kids know about me? DogDay then put down some kids that he was holding and walked over to me. “Sorry about that Angel, I told them that I was getting a helper the other day and they have been wanting to see you.” “Oh, that’s fine. Hey um DogDay was it? Do you happen to know who my boss is by chance? I was told to meet them in here.” The kids behind Dogday started giggling. “You’re looking at him Angel!”  

Huh? He’s joking right? This dog looking mascot is my boss?! DogDay then picked me up and hugged me tight. “We’re going to have so much fun working together Angel.” I could hear his tail wagging back in forth. He put me down and led me to the rest of the kids. “Kids, we have a new face joining us today. Why don’t you introduce yourself to us Angel.” I suddenly felt nervous. All these little eyes staring at me so excitedly. “O-okay, um well hi, my name is Angel- wait no” the kids started laughing. That wasn’t my name but hearing DogDay call me that this whole time just slipped out. DogDay was even laughing. I blushed in embarrassment. I cleared my throat and continued. “My name is Y/N, but I guess you could also call me Angel. I like to read, draw, um I guess sing, but I haven’t done it in a while. Umm, I’m 20 years old and my birthday is on November 14th and that’s pretty much it I think.”  

DogDay clapped and soon the other kids followed his lead. “Well put Angel, now it’s my turn, though I think I’ll let the kids introduce me.” All at once the kids started yelling over each other to tell me about him. “He’s the leader of the Smiling Critters!” “He smells like vanilla!” “Super strong!” “DOGDAY CALLED YOU PRETTY!!” “Okay! Thank you, Damian, no need to shout now friend.” The shift in DogDays attitude changed, he was the one that seemed nervous now. The kid that was hiding with me was named Damian. Dogday then cleared his throat. “Let’s all go outside and wait for KickenChicken now alright?” The kids yelled in delight and pushed their way out of the Playhouse. 

It was now just me and DogDay. “So, um I’m guessing you picked me to work here?” I tried breaking the awkward silence between us. I decided to not bring up the fact that he called me pretty, too awkward right now. DogDay then seemed to snap back into his cheery self. “Yep! I looked through a lot of applicants, but yours stood out to me.” It’s amazing that a toy factory lets a toy pick out an employer. DogDay then grabbed my hand and led me outside. “Come on, I’ll give you a tour of the place Angel.” I smiled and went along with him. I could see myself liking it here.  

A/N: part 2 anyone?

[mono-blogs-art]

Ayaka is in Love with Hiroko - The Lesbian Office RomCom You Needed

Blatant flirting, hilarious misunderstandings, and lesbian shenanigans aplenty - this show is funny, over-dramatic, and most of all gay as hell. Here's my review! Spoiler-free version first, and a more detailed spoiler-y version under the cut. I hope you enjoy!

A quick summary: Overall: 9/10, you should absolutely watch this! Genre: RomCom, with some serious elements and a heartfelt exploration of sexuality Watch if you are looking for... : A silly and fun time, a happy ending, misunderstandings, and character development. Highly recommended to watch this with your partner(s) or your sapphic friends! Watch out for... : Although the tone of the show is mostly comedic, it contains discussion & depiction of homophobia at the workplace and past trauma relating to that Where to watch: Official TL on GagaOOLala, or Fansubs by @furritsubs (highly recommended!)

"Ayaka is in Love with Hiroko" (Ayaka-chan wa Hiroko-senpai ni Koishiteru) is a Jdrama adaption of a manga by the same title. The series premiered this year July 2024 and has wrapped up a short while ago, with a total runtime of 8 episodes of 24 minutes each.

The title of the show already says all; the plot is simple: Junior staff member Ayaka is head-over-heels for Hiroko, her senior at the company she works at. And she has decided to go on the offensive.

There are many obstacles in Ayaka's way: first of all, Hiroko is 13 years older than her (they are 23 and 36), and her superior at the workplace. Hiroko is beloved by both her superiors as well as her staff, so Ayaka's love for her is just one of many. And no matter how blatantly she ups her advances (and girl, she is BOLD), Hiroko is 100% convinced that all the flirting is just misplaced, straight-woman obliviousness.

The irony of it all is that Ayaka is absolutely barking up the right tree, because Hiroko is a lesbian, but has been firmly in the closet at work - something that she has no plans on changing. Her professional life and her personal must stay completely separate, at all cost. The only place she can truly be herself is the lesbian bar she's been a regular at for years.

^ Me when I'm a lesbian disaster doing insane mental gymnastics

However, "giving up" is not in Ayaka's vocabulary. As her seduction attempts keep escalating and being misunderstood, Hiroko's hard exterior begins to crumble bit by bit. Can Hiroko finally overcome her rigid ways, and let herself fall for someone?

Although the show is first and foremost a comedy, both Ayaka and Hiroko as characters are handled really well. They have their own problems, insecurities, reservations about the other, and both have a simple but great arc over the course of the series. Ayaka is discovering her sexuality, something she had never even considered before falling for Hiroko. What does being in love with a woman mean for her future? And Hiroko, who is already very confident in her sexuality, is confronted by her past trauma, and the fact that she's still not ready to come out despite the changing times. And while being undercover has saved her career in the past, it has also made her feel alone and isolated. She likes Ayaka back, but can't allow her true colors to show.

Something that I find very hard to achieve with comedy shows is the switch between funny and serious, and I think that Ayahiro manages this very well. Both of our main characters feel grounded enough in reality that when they get emotional, it feels relatable and sincere. For a silly show like this, striking a balance like that is crucial, and save for a few pacing issues in the later half of the show (that I honestly didn't mind at all), I think the show totally nails it. Ayahiro is not a realistic show, but it contains elements of reality that made me connect to it, despite all the insane shenanigans that go on. And because of that the show made me laugh and cry as much as it did, often in the same episode. It works, and Kudos to the writers (and actors!) for that.

Speaking of actors, one thing I must mention is that the show is very well made. The actors (especially Mori Kanna as Hiroko is the standout for me, she has a natural charisma and gay swagger) do a fantastic job, the leads' chemistry is great. The production overall has some real money behind it, with lots of changing sets that all look great and have been crafted with care. Ayaka's outfits are absolute KILLER, she is giving insane femme energy. The show also looks very pretty, the color graders turn that saturation up to 100 and it fits Ayaka's rose-tinted world well.

That's it for the spoiler-less part, I'll now get into specific characters and plot points with full spoilers up to the end of the series under the cut. If you don't want to get spoiled, I hope the review until now made you want to watch the show for yourself! I hope you enjoy!

First of all I need to disclaim that I have not read the original manga that she show is based on, so I can't compare the series to its original and how the plot is written there. I do intend to read it (I hope it gets localized to German so I can support the official release, but I might check out the English Official TL anyway before that) but for now, I will only judge the series as is.

Ayaka: Our protagonist is a femme fatale, in... another meaning of the word, I guess. She is a disaster, bad at pretty much everything she does except not giving up. Once she has set her mind to something, she will get it done. That leads her to often be inconsiderate and unable to see what others around her are feeling, which goes mostly for her best friend Risa, but also for Hiroko, whose feelings she also fails to consider even when pursuing her. Ayaka has to learn the hard way that her naivete is hurting others, and herself. She hasn't really thought her advances through, simply acting on instinct. But as the series goes on, she takes her feelings and her newly discovered sexuality seriously, and grows comfortable with calling herself a lesbian. She is also unashamedly horny, like, Oh My God, this girl is trying to get laid so bad. This is hilarious and refreshing to see, and although her seduction attempts are often played as comedic, it doesn't feel like she is being ridiculed for her sexuality by the show. Ayaka often crosses boundaries (physical and emotional) with Hiroko, both out of naivite and in deliberate attempts to seduce her. To me this was never truly infuriating, even though sometimes she really did go too far, but for me it always kept in tone with the comedy of the show. Even when Ayaka finally comes out in front of the entire office, she makes it clear that she doesn't want Hiroko to do the same if she's not ready.

Hiroko: Our deuteragonist is probably my favourite character in the show, and I think she's very relatable and well done. As an older lesbian, she's got plenty of experience, having even earned the title of "The Ace" in her lesbian friend circle for being a talented womanizer. But a traumatic experience of losing her last partner due to being found out at the workplace has changed her. She's afraid to get attached, she's unable to let people get close to her true self. So when Ayaka is fighting tooth and nail to get to her, Hiroko is caught in conflict between her feelings of attraction and her past trauma. She does everything in her power to dismiss Ayaka's advances to protect herself, and later when she learns that Ayaka is in fact not straight (duh), she still turns her down to protect Ayaka's (and her own) career. Hiroko is a bit of a conservative - something she's also called out for in her lesbian friend circle - she believes that coming out at work is impossible and irresponsible. And you know, I get it. Not only does she have personal bad experiences with exactly that, it's also not unreasonable to think it would be a bad idea to hook up with your junior of 13 years. Like, I get it girl. Hiroko is clearly attracted to Ayaka, not just physically but also emotionally, because Ayaka is everything Hiroko wants to be but can't. And that leads to Hiroko constantly underestimating Ayaka, even treating her like a child. She thinks Ayaka is not really thinking the gravity of her actions through, and she gets called out for that and has to overcome it. In the end, Hiroko ends up being a character that needs time, and needs to unlearn a whole bunch of shitty behaviour, something the show clearly also shows is being worked on and that Ayaka also respects (more on that later).

Risa: Easily the character I struggled with the most, Ayaka's best friend Risa is complicated. She's very observant but also shy, and secretly harbors a crush on Ayaka. Quietly struggling with her sexuality, she only decides to come out when she realises that Ayaka's feelings for Hiroko are serious. Oh, it's messy! She confesses to Ayaka, who in turn has to struggle with her feelings for someone else, but also not wanting to lose her closest confidant. And to her credit, Risa takes the rejection quite gracefully and continues to support Ayaka in her pursuit of Hiroko. However, Risa also outs Hiroko against her will to Ayaka, which... is just a shitty thing to do, even though she just wanted to help her friend. Good motive, still murder. After the conflict between Ayaka and Risa is resolved, Risa just kind of... is around, quietly worrying in her corner and kind of (in my opinion) overstepping her boundaries with Hiroko. I don't dislike Risa, but I thought her character was not done super well in parts, and although I understand the complicated situation she herself is in, the show doesn't really let her grow as much as the other characters. Anyway, good for her for bagging the hottest chick at the lesbian bar, though. Good for her!

The "break-up": The story's conflict comes to a peak when Hiroko finally realises there is only one way to shut this all down. She needs to fulfill Ayaka's desire, and then turn her down, once and for all. But Hiroko at this point still thinks Ayaka is immature and hasn't really thought her actions through. Ayaka sheepishly asks for a kiss, so Hiroko kisses her. "Now you've achieved everything you wanted." We're done, you can give up on me and this childish crush you have on me. And most importantly, I can let you go, too. Not realising that Ayaka wants much more. She wants a real relationship, she wants the kiss, sex, real emotions, she wants to see Hiroko's true self too. She wants a partnership.

The Finale: With the encouragement of her peers, Ayaka finds the courage to express her feelings to Hiroko one last time. And she finds just the right words to finally get through to her. Hiroko realises how much of an ass she's been all this time, how she ended up hurting the girl she loves and herself by denying herself happiness. This whole scene was so well done (Kudos to Kato Shiho as Ayaka, this is probably her best scene in the entire show), brother I cried so hard. And finally Hiroko can say what she should have a long time ago: "I'm sorry."

One year later: In the show's worst case of bad pacing, we immediately cut from their tearful reunion to "one year later", lol. I don't mind the sudden jump too much, but maybe a bit of a slower fade-out would have softened the blow, because I think a few people probably found this very jarring xD not too bad for me. I was actually positively surprised that we actually get to see the aftermath, see how their relationship has developed a year into it.

I've seen a few people complain about this "no-sex scene" (lol) and I just want to add my two cents. I actually really like how this scene played out, for two reasons. Reason 1 is that it's just very much in-character for Hiroko. We've seen her struggle back-and-forth with the intimacy Ayaka wanted from her for the past 7.5 episodes, and her own internalised homophobia and constant fear of "crossing the line". She's a traumatized person, and it makes total sense to me that even one year into the relationship, she's still struggling with sexual intimacy. Sure, a whole year is a long time not having sex with your partner (even though you both clearly wanted to from day 1) but like... it makes sense for Hiroko. She's still working through the past 10+ years of repression. I do understand how this scene can be interpreted as "the show is afraid to show them being horny and sexy together, they're cowards for making Hiroko so obsessed with Ayaka's "purity" etc" and like, yes, that is a totally valid interpretation, but IMO also a quite bad faith one.

"I'm happy to know you feel that way. Which is why, could you please wait a little more, just until I sort my feelings out?" "What?" "I want to cherish you, Ayaka." "Right." "I'm sorry for everything, Ayaka." "For everything?" "In the end, it seems like I still haven't came out yet. I understand that I'm making you endure something when you don't have to. But… I do want to be with you, and I want to keep my job. I'm really sorry for making you put up with my selfishness."

^ Like, that is the conversation that follows. It's not just about sex for Hiroko, that kind of intimacy holds a deeper meaning to her and she's just not ready for it yet, and trying to sincerely tell her partner that. And when Ayaka reaffirms her willingness to be patient in this scene and is respectful of Hiroko's choice, Hiroko realizes that she's being a stupid coward, and finally makes a decision...

... to come out in front of the whole office, who's been gossiping about their relationship the whole year anyway.

And that is the end of the show!

So really, Hiroko did manage to overcome her fears in the end, and it took her a whole year into a healthy relationship to do so. And I think that is honestly much more realistic than some people would like to believe. Is the smooch in front of the whole office silly and cheesy and over-dramatic? Of course, but that's the entire show so far. And if you think that kiss-and-dip is dumb then I can't help you, I think you just don't like fun.

Oh yeah, and my reason 2 why I thought that no-sex scene was done well is because it's just funny. Ayaka has been DTF since minute 1 of the show, and her still being unable to get it this far into it is just funny. I would have loved a little nod to them finally getting down at the very, very end, but eh, I can live with it like this. They've conquered the emotional hurdles, I'm certain they will cross that other bridge when they get there on their own time.

Conclusion: "Ayaka is in Love with Hiroko" is a great and incredibly funny lesbian show that touched me emotionally much more than I thought it would. It made me cry several times, the production and acting quality positively surprised me, and honestly deserves my Nr 2 spot of favourite Lesbian JDrama after Tsukutabe (which is a 10/10 show) for now. I really hope this type of show gets imitators, adapting relatively short stories into mini-series with great quality. I appreciate the more adult tone of this series, its shameless comedy while still being able to hit serious beats with real emotion. From what I've seen of the BTS, the actors and staff also handled the subject matter with respect and care and had a lot of fun making the show. I don't think a season 2 is needed, but I do hope that the series can inspire more similar works. I love Ayaka and Hiroko, and I'm so happy they got their happy ending, and by God, I hope they have the best sex ever in their beautiful lesbian future. God bless.

That's it from me, thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed this show as much as I did! Hopefully see you soon!

[imaginespazzi]

Part 4: Warning Bells

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11

I don't think I can do this again (do you remember it too?)

(In which a self-admittedly all over the place writer takes you on a bit of a rollercoaster)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Fluff, Angst, Pining (the usuals)

Words: 6.1K

TW: Swearing, Mentions of Divorce

A/N: Hi lovelies :) Guess who made a deadline again? I'm as shocked as y'all are but I do wanna just warn y'all that August is gonna be really busy for me so as much as I'm gonna try to stick to schedule, there's a pretty good chance I won't. I really appreciate y'alls feedback with live-reacts/long reviews and it's truly the motivating factor behind my writing so pretty please keep sending them. I did edit (as usual) but please let me know the most likely existent typos anyway. As always, let me know what you liked, disliked and what you wanna see next. Have a lovely rest of your week my loves <3

March 2033 

Here’s what Azzi has learned about motherhood: having kids means that there will come many times in your life, when you will look around you and wonder how the hell did I get here. It’s that thought that’s currently plaguing her as she finishes hanging up the WELCOME HOME banner on the living room wall in her ex-girlfriend’s new apartment. And when she’s talking about kids, she’s not talking about her five year old who’s currently sticking purple hearts on every surface she can find. No, she’s talking about her 6’5 teammate who she’d once “adopted” as a joke in college, but who’s basically become her surrogate child ever since they’d ended up on the same WNBA team. 

It had started as a casual conversation when Jana, as she often did, had shown up for an impromptu lunch. The topic of Paige was hard to avoid considering it was Stephie’s favorite subject, heightened by the fact that Paige was coming back soon and Stephie was far too excited to finally have her Miss Buecks back. Jana was more than happy to indulge the little girl in conversation about what Paige had been like at UConn. And if Azzi had lost herself in those memories for a moment, transported back in time to a world that had once been blooming with promise before wilting in a darkness she’d created herself, well, she’d done an excellent job not letting it show on her face. 

The real issue had started when Jana had casually let slip her idea of surprising Paige with a little welcome party. And as Stephie had started reciting all the different things they could do -because of course me and Mama will help you Aunty J, Azzi had glared at Jana, only to receive an innocent smile in return that told her everything she needed to know. She’d been set up. 

That’s how, instead of spending her Saturday curled up on her comfortable couch with a book in her hands, Azzi is here instead and in true fashion, she’s the only one actually getting anything done. Jana, who had just left about twenty minutes ago to pick Paige up, had invited some of the other girls on the team to come help out yet, something about more hands on deck. Those supposed helpful hands had spent the last hour blowing up and popping balloons and getting nothing else done.

“I can’t believe y’all have me decorating for the woman who cost me my first national championship,” Joyce laments, “I still have nightmares from that game.”

“You gotta let that hurt go Aunty Joy,” Stephie says impishly, mimicking what Jana would normally say whenever the infamous 2025 South Carolina vs UConn national championship got brought up. 

“Don’t sass me Miss Stephanie,” Joyce sticks out her tongue at the little girl, throwing a purple balloon at Stephie’s head, “hasn’t your Mama taught you that we don’t mock people’s pain.”

“Ignore her Steph,” Tessa says, bumping her former Gamecock teammate as she shares a devilish grin with Azzi’s daughter, “she’s just upset she only won one. Some of us have two.”

Joyce guffaws, throwing another balloon, this time aimed at Tessa, “dude we’re supposed to be on the same team. What would Coach Staley say to you teaming with UConn people of all things to bully me?”

“She’d thank me for making sure you didn’t get a big head,” Tessa snipes back. 

Whatever response Joyce has to that quip is cut short by the doorbell ringing and Azzi feels her heartbeat quicken as Stephie lets out a squeal, dropping everything to go answer it. Things had been different since the facetime call almost two weeks ago. They’d accidentally on purpose settled into a routine where Stephie would call Paige at exactly 7 p.m. and Paige would answer on the first ring, promising to stay on the phone till the little girl fell asleep. And it would’ve been fine if that’s all it was. But then Paige started staying on the phone till after Stephie fell asleep and suddenly it was like they were back to their teenage selves, talking about everything and nothing, trying to learn every page of each other’s story all over again. 

Azzi had missed so much about Paige in the last couple of years but there was nothing she’d missed more than just talking to her best friend. She’d missed the way Paige would tell a story, going off on a million tangents in between. She’d missed the way her eyes would light up when she got to a particularly exciting part of the story, specks of gold shimmering in the blue like sunlight hitting the ocean. She’d missed the way Paige’s hands would be flying animatedly all over the place, even when she was whispering. She’d missed the way the blonde would pause halfway through to observe if Azzi was still listening, making sure all of the attention was still on her. And she’d missed the way that when it was Azzi’s turn to speak, Paige would hang onto every word like it was gospel, intently listening like she’d never forgive herself if she couldn’t recite everything Azzi had just said from memory. She’d missed the way Paige would let her emotions freely flicker across her face, because whatever happened to Azzi, Paige felt it too. 

She’d missed and missed, convinced the pain would be the end of her, until she’d tricked her mind into forgetting. And now Azzi’s beginning to realize that remembering it all again, might just be the thing that kills her. 

“Nevermind,” Stephie walks back to the room, sulking slightly, “it’s just Aunty Liyah.”

“Oh thanks Stephie babe. That makes me feel so wonderful,” Aaliyah says, walking in behind Stephie with an offended expression on her face, “and here I thought bringing cupcakes would make me popular.”

“Tell me those are store-bought Chavez. I ain’t trusting them if you made them yourselves,” Joyce says, side-eyeing the cupcakes. 

“Trust me I would never waste my precious time baking for y’all ungrateful ass-”

“Aaliyah,” Azzi shoots her younger teammate a sharp look.

“-ungrateful people,” Aaliyah corrects sheepishly, “cupcakes because y’all clearly don’t appreciate me.”

“I pre-ciate you Aunty Liyah,” Stephie says innocently, trying to get a better look at the aforementioned cupcakes, “you got the pu-ple ones right? They have to be pu-ple for Miss Buecks.”

Aaliyah bends down to Stephie’s level to show her the box of sweet treats “the perfect purple cupcakes for your Miss Buecks. How come you never wanna do nice things like this for us Stephie?”

“Because Miss Buecks is special,” Stephie retorts matter-of-factly.

“Oh so we’re not special?” Tessa asks, raising an eyebrow at Stephie.

“‘Course you are but Miss Buecks is special-er.”

And while her teammates all pretend to dramatically gasp at that, shaking their heads at Stephie, Azzi feels like someone’s squeezing her heart, twisting and twisting but never fully breaking it. She wonders if that might hurt less.

It’s another 10 minutes later when the doorbell rings again and Azzi watches her daughter’s face break into an incandescent grin, filled with hope, as she rushes to open the door because it has to be Paige this time. Azzi follows after her, trying to keep her breathing under control as anticipation clings to her nerves. Azzi’s gotten so spectacularly good at lying to herself that she tells herself this next one with ease: there’s not a single part of her that’s eager to see Paige again. 

“SURPRISE,” Stephie screams, flinging the front door open with as much strength as she can muster. She doesn’t give Paige a chance to react before she’s throwing herself against the blonde’s legs, hugging her thighs. 

It takes a second for Paige to register what’s happening, but when she does, it’s Azzi she’s looking at. Everything seems to move in slow motion as they stare at each other, the reality of the moment suddenly settling in. Paige is here. In Oakland. They’re going to be teammates; they’re going to see each other almost every day. Just like they used to. Except nothing is like it used to be and as that bitter truth comes up like bile in Azzi’s throat, she has to force herself to look away. 

“Miss Buecks,” Stephie calls out, tugging at the hem of Paige’s white shirt to get her attention, “do you like my surprise?”

Paige tears her eyes away from Azzi, leaning down to pick Stephie up before peppering her faces with kisses and making the younger girl squeal in delight, “best surprise ever.”

And Azzi really, really, can’t watch this. Not when it makes her want to walk over and cocoon herself in with the two of them, makes her want to pretend that she’s living in another life, one where she hadn’t thrown away the chance of a happily ever after with the girl she’d fallen in love with at fourteen, 

“Oh yeah Stephie, your surprise. Take all the credit. Not like the rest of us did anything,” Joyce rolls her eyes goodnaturedly, before pulling Paige into a one-armed hug, “welcome to the Bay Area Bueckers.”

Tessa and Aaliyah are next, both sharing warm hugs with their new teammate. Once they’ve had their turn, all eyes seem to turn to Azzi expectantly and the brunette blanches under their gaze. Other than Jana, who suddenly seems pretty heavily interested in the doorframe, the rest of her teammates don’t know about her past with Paige. So it’s only natural they’d expect her to greet Paige with all the cordiality of an old friend. 

“Y’all good?” Joyce asks slowly, looking between the two of them, “do you want me to introduce y’all or?”

“Shut up,” Azzi murmurs before drawing in a deep breath and stepping towards Paige. She tries not to fixate on the way Paige’s jaw flexes when the blonde swallows, tries not to think about all the patterns she’d once carved against that little patch of skin because she knew it drove Paige insane. The thing is Azzi can’t even really remember the last time they hugged beyond a for-the-cameras one at a game. But as she wraps her arms around Paige, the older woman’s breath tickling against her ear as she grips Azzi’s waist, it doesn’t feel that much different from how it used to be. Paige’s arms are still safe and strong and Azzi still wants to melt into them. But what’s different is that Stephie’s in between them now, tiny hands securely fastened around both of their necks. And Azzi almost, almost gives into the feeling of belonging as she whispers two simple words that mean just a little too much.

“Welcome home.”

***

Seven pairs of eyes watch as the movers move box after box after box into Paige’s apartment, until there’s more cardboard than floor visible. The three non-UConn girlies are wide-eyed as they watch the pile grow endlessly. Meanwhile Jana is laughing while Azzi tries to hide a smile behind her hands as the realization that she’d have to unpack all of her stuff hits Paige in waves, and her expression grows more and more somber. Once the movers are finally done, it’s Stephie, whose hand is still firmly clasped in Paige’s, who breaks the silence. 

“You have a lot of things Miss Buecks,” the little girl crinkles her nose, as she points out the obvious, “do you really need all of this stuff.”

“Of course I do Stephie,” Paige says indignantly and Azzi scoffs, earning her a withering glare from the blond. 

“Aight well it was nice to meet you-” Joyce starts, slowly backing away from the mess until Jana blocks her way. 

“Oh no you don’t. I told y’all we were all gonna help her move in. Call it team bonding,” the Egyptian says, her voice vaguely threatening. 

“Most of the team isn’t even here,” Aaliyah points out cautiously. 

“That’s not the point,” Jana rebukes, “alright team listen up. Here’s how this is going to go-”

“Maybe Paige should take charge. It is her apartment,” Tessa says slowly. 

“If we put Paige in charge she’ll tell us all to go home and procrastinate doing anything until after the season,” Azzi says, a knowing smirk playing on her lips. 

Paige pouts, “hey! I’m not that bad.”

“Oh you absolutely are.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“O-kay,” Jana claps, breaking apart the bickering, “it’s good to see the two of you are apparently younger than Stephie,” she holds up a hands a both Paige and Azzi start to splutter in their defense, “now as I was saying before being rudely interrupted. We’re gonna split this up. Joyce and I are gonna do the living room. Aaliyah and Tessa, y’all are gonna fix the guest room. Which leaves,” Jana smiles, and it’s only because Azzi knows her so well that she can read the menacing sparkle behind it, “Paige and Azzi to tackle the master bedroom.”

They both open their mouths to protest but are quick to get cut off by an excited Stephie, “I’mma help Mama and Miss Buecks!”

“Of course you are, why would you ever help anybody else? Clearly you don’t love us anymore. Not since your precious Miss Buecks got here,” Joyce says dramatically and while Paige smirks and the rest of the girls pretend to act mock offended, Azzi uses the distraction to sidle up to Jana. 

“What the fuck are you playing at El-Alfy,” she hisses under hear breath.

Jana shrugs innocently, “the master bedroom is the hardest because Paige has so many fucking clothes so I’m letting y’all old heads do it. Some of us are below 30 ya know.”

“Cut the bullshit,” Azzi snaps. 

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about Fudd,” Jana says airily as she starts to unpack a box, leaving Azzi muttering curses under her breath. 

“Hey-”

Azzi spins around at the soft voice, only to find herself crashing against a solid body. It’s instinct, the way Paige’s hands immediately reach out to steady her and it’s instinct, the way Azzi’s hands grab at the lapels of the blond’s shirt. Goosebumps trails up her skin as Paige's breath, hot and heavy, fans across her face. They’re too close; way too close and yet the idea of stepping away feels like a sin. Azzi gulps as her thumb accidentally brushes Paige’s collarbone and the other woman shivers under her touch. She thinks she could probably get drunk off the feeling of knowing that she can still affect Paige like that. 

“You uh-” Paige swallows, fingers squeezing involuntarily against Azzi’s hip, “you don’t have to listen to Jana. I can- I can figure it out myself.”

“N-no,” Azzi stutters and she wonders if Paige feels a high from the way she still affects Azzi too, “there’s um- you have- uh- you have a lot of stuff. I can-,” she sucks in a deep breath, “I’ll help.”

“You sure?” there’s a vulnerable edge to Paige’s tone and any resolve Azzi could ever have melts immediately. 

“I want to help,” she says softly, letting a small smile slip onto her lips. 

The smile she gets in return is bright and sparkling, just like Paige herself and Azzi’s heart lurches, pleased to be the one receiving it, pleased to be the one who’d elicited it, “Good, cause I really wanted your help.”

Azzi shakes her head, trying to ignore the warning bells blazing in her head at the fact that they’re still holding each other, “why’d you pretend you didn’t?”

“I just wanted to hear you say it first,” Paige says, biting at her bottom lip. It leaves a light mark and Azzi finds herself wanting to soothe it over with her own tongue.

She thinks it might have been easier if it was just a little harder to fall back into Paige. It shouldn’t be so simple to fall back into late night conversations, so simple to fall back into easy teasing, so simple to fall back into feeling at peace in Paige’s arms. But it is. 

“Mama, Miss Buecks,” it’s Stephie who breaks their bubble but instead of jumping away from each other like they should, they step apart only enough to let the little girl into the space between them, so she can lace her hands through both of theirs, “are you ready?”

“Before you go Paige,” Tessa calls out, holding up a clear bag of corner guards and edge protectors, “what are we doing with these?”

Paige shuffles her feet nervously, “you um- you put them on the edge of like tables and stuff.”

“Bro but they’re for people who have children?” Joyce says, giving Paige a weird look, “you have a kid we don’t know about?”

Paige’s eyes flicker to Stephie for a brief second and Azzi freezes, a warm realization tickling up her spine. Butterflies erupt in her stomach, their wings fluttering to the beat of what’s mine could have been ours. 

“Of course not. I’m just super clumsy so precautions and all that,” the blond explains, shooting Jana a glare when the taller woman barely masks a giggle, “quit procrastinating by asking all these questions and get to work.”

“Has anyone ever told you the importance of first impressions? Because I’m telling you Bueckers, using your teammates as unpaid labor the first time you meet them is not it,” Aaliyah gives Paige a pointed look. 

“This wasn’t even my idea in the first place,” Paige defends. 

“True,” Tessa nods with a sickly sweet smile, “but you’re gonna pay for the pizza anyways.”

“I’m not pay-”

“PIZZA,” Stephie squeals, “Miss Buecks you’re gonna get us Pizza?”

“Yeah Miss Buecks,” Azzi smickers, crossing her arms as Paige’s stubborn retort dies on her lips, “you gonna get us pizza?”

Paige glares at her before she’s swinging Stephie up onto her lap again. And she really needs to stop doing things like that because it’s not remotely good for Azzi’s mental health to watch the way Stephie seems to fit perfectly in Paige’s arms, “of course I am Steph, what do you want?”

The two of them are lost in their own world discussing pizza toppings as Paige starts walking over to the master bedroom, until suddenly they're both turning around, looking at Azzi with identical expressions. And the brunette feels her heart tap out this could be my everything against her ribcage. 

“You coming Azzi?”

“Mama, are you coming?”

I’d go anywhere with the two of you, Azzi thinks as she nods her head, a light skip in her step as she moves to catch up with the two of them. 

“Of course I’m coming.”

***

Less than 10 minutes into trying to unpack, Azzi realizes that she’s the only one trying to unpack anything when she looks up from where she’s been folding t-shirts -trying and failing at not breathing in their familiar scent- to find Stephie decked in a colorful cardigan that goes all the way down to her toes, her feet clad in a pair of PB4’s that must be three times the size of her own shoes. A pair of Louis Vuitton sunglasses hide almost her entire face as she strikes pose after pose and Paige diligently takes pictures of her. 

“YES Stephie,” the blond indulges, “work it girl. There you go babe, hold that pose for me. You’re a natural in front of the camera.”

Stephie giggles and Azzi feels her heart constrict. Her favorite sound in the whole world has never sounded more like a signal for danger. 

“Ahem ahem,” she coughs, narrowing her eyes at the two people in front of her, “doesn’t look like y’all are unpacking to me.”

“Mama Miss Buecks has so many pretty clothes,” Stephie gushes, completely ignoring what her mother just said. 

“They’d look even prettier folded in her closet,” Azzi says pointedly. 

Stephie pouts, “you don’t think I look pretty?”

“You look really pretty in my clothes Stephie,” Paige cuts in, tapping the little girl on the nose before she turns her gaze towards Azzi, “just like your Mama used to.”

The silk material shirt slips out of Azzi’s hand as Paige’s words drizzle around her, like the rain after a drought. It takes every little bit of strength she can muster to force herself to ignore Paige’s words and pick up another shirt to fold even if she can’t stop the rouge tint that colors her face. There’s this part of her that’s been dormant for years but every little interaction with Paige threatens to awaken it and Azzi’s scared that if she lets that happen, she’ll never be able to put it to sleep again. 

“Just- just focus on unpacking,” Azzi mutters darkly. 

She spends the next hour or so, keeping her eyes downcast, her complete focus on the task at hand. Because if she looks up, if she lets herself see the way Stephie and Paige are folding clothes together while giggling about something, if she lets herself see the way Stephie climbs onto Paige’s back so the woman can give her a piggyback to the closet to deposit the folded clothes, she thinks she could fall in love with this moment, capture it behind her eyelids and let it live there forever. But this moment doesn’t belong to Azzi. Because Paige doesn’t belong to Azzi. Not anymore. 

Azzi’s taken away from her thoughts when she feels a tiny hand wrapping around her neck from behind, Stephie’s warm body pressing against her back and just like that, all the tension in her muscles seem to dissipate. 

“What’s up sweetheart,” she asks, turning her head to press her lips against her daughter’s temple. 

“Nothing Mama,” Stephie says sweetly, “just wanted to give you a hug.”

“Sure you’re not just trying to get out of helping Miss Buecks unpack?” Azzi asks slyly, pulling Stephie from behind her, so the little girl’s lying on her lap instead. She can feel Paige’s eyes focused on the two of them and even without looking, she thinks she knows what she’d find in them if she did. 

“Of course not Mama,” Stephie grins and then squeals as Azzi begins to tickle her. 

“I think you are,” Azzi sings-songs as she continues to poke at her daughter’s stomach, reveling in the way it makes the child laugh. 

“N-no Mama stop, stop,” Stephie manages to wrench herself out from Azzi’s grip, darting to hide behind Paige’s legs, “Miss Buecks save me.”

“There’s no saving you now Stephie-bear,” Azzi roars dramatically as she picks herself off the floor, smirking at her daughter as she wriggles her fingers menacingly. 

“You know what the best way to stop someone from tickling you is Stephie?” Paige says slowly, sending the little girl a conspiratorial wink.

“Don’t you dare-” 

“You tickle them back,” Paige yells and Stephie eyes widen with excitement, “did you know your Mama’s extremely ticklish?”

“Paige no,” Azzi starts moving back, hands held in surrender. 

“You started it.”

“Yeah Mama, you started it.”

“Paige. Stephie. Ple-” Azzi cuts herself off with squeal as two sets of hands start mercilessly prodding at her ribcage. She can’t get away, not when Paige has her securely wrapped from the back and Stephie’s pressed against her front, both of them laughing maniacally. They’re a mess of limbs that’s becoming harder and harder to tell apart as the three of them topple onto Paige’s bed. And Azzi thinks maybe she doesn’t want to escape it at all. She thinks she’d like to freeze them in this moment instead. Forever. 

“Pizza’s here,” someone yells from the living room and it’s Stephie who stops first, immediately jumping off the bed at the mention of food, leaving Paige and Azzi alone. On Paige’s bed. Barely an inch of distance between them as they try to catch their breath. It’s Azzi who sits up first, smoothening the wrinkles on her shirt. And just as she’s about to stand up fully, she feels a hand circling around her wrist. 

“It’s gonna be weird being alone tonight,” Paige confesses softly and Azzi feels her breath hitch.

“Didn’t you live alone in Dallas? At least after the divorce?” she tries to keep the bitterness out of her voice at the last word, a bitterness she knows she has absolutely no right to feel. 

Paige shrugs, her shoulders brushing against Azzi’s, “I did but I knew Dallas. I don’t know this place.”

“What exactly are you asking me?” Azzi asks even though she knows. 

“I’m not asking you anything. I don’t know if I have that right anymore” Paige says softly, letting go of Azzi’s wrist as she starts to walk towards the living room, turning her head back slightly once she gets to the door, “I’m just telling you I don’t wanna be alone tonight.”

***

Damn Paige Bueckers and her vulnerable eyes and her earnest tone because Azzi would, really, really like to be enjoying her slice of pizza right now. Instead everything tastes like ashes as Paige’s unsaid plea rings in her head. There are so many reasons why Azzi absolutely shouldn’t give in, why she should grab Stephie, get into her car, drive home and never look back. This involuntary dance the two of them are starting is far too familiar to what they’d done when they were teenagers and the vivid memories of the day the music stopped and they’re feet stopped moving still haunt Azzi every time she lets herself think of it for a little too long. And she shouldn’t push herself into this fire again, not when there’s Stephie to think about, but there’s a tiny little problem. She thinks she might be addicted to burning in Paige’s flames. 

So when the pizza’s done and the house is more or less in order, and her teammates are ready to leave, looking expectantly at Azzi, she finds herself leaping into lava, “um- I think Stephie and I are gonna stay for a little bit longer.”

“We are?” Stephie asks, a huge smile stretching the length of her face as she looks up at her mother. 

“Yeah. Um- Paige’s bedroom still um- still needs some work,” Azzi tries to justify her decision, ignoring the heat of the blond’s eyes that seem to be perpetually stuck staring at her. 

Joyce raises a perplexed eyebrow, “it looked done to me.”

Paige clears her throat, “there’s definitely uh- a couple more things that need to be handled.”

“It’s almost Stephie’s bedtime. I could stay and help-” Jana begins, eyeing the two of them suspiciously.

“No,” Paige says, a little louder than necessary, “I mean you’ve already done so much for me today Jana,” she manages a smirk, “let Azzi pull her weight a little bit too ya know.”

Janna narrows her eyes but doesn’t push it. It’s oddly domestic, standing side by side with Paige bidding goodbye to their teammates, Stephie in between them happily waving at the people that are leaving. The warning bells get louder and louder; Azzi continues to do nothing to stop them. 

“Mama, how long are we staying?” Stephie asks innocently. 

“We um-” Azzi chews at her lip, finally giving into the temptation to look at Paige, “we’re gonna stay with Miss Buecks tonight so she doesn’t feel alone.”

The shrill scream that escapes Stephie’s mouth could probably break glass as she turns herself around to grab at Paige’s waist, “Miss Buecks I’m gonna stay with you! We’re gonna have a sleep-over.”

Paige laughs, kneeling down so she’s face to face with the little girl, “yeah we are.”

“Are you scared to sleep alone too Miss Buecks?” Stephie asks cautiously, cupping Paige’s face with tiny hands. 

“Just a little bit,” Paige admits, leaning into Stephie’s touch. 

“Me too,” Stephie whispers shyly, “that’s why I sneak into Mama's bed and she gives me lots and lots and lots of cuddles. Mama’s cuddles are the best,” she turns to Azzi, “Mama will you give Miss Buecks cuddles tonight too?”

“I uh-” Azzi swallows, taken aback by the question, “I thought you didn’t like sharing Mama’s cuddles?”

“I don’t,” Stephie agrees, “but I’d be okay sharing them with Miss Buecks.”

***

Azzi had planned -a loose term because really she hadn’t planned on any of this- for her and Stephie to take the guest room. Paige had been ready to give up her own room on the grounds of politeness. And Stephie was insistent that she needed to sleep in between both Mama and Miss Buecks tonight because it’s a sleepover we all have to stay together. Obviously out of the three of them, only one of them was going their way and it didn’t take a genius to figure out who that would be.  That’s how they’d ended up here, dragging chairs and pillows and blankets into the middle of the living room to create a makeshift fort. 

Azzi’s putting on the finishing touches, stringing purple fairy lights Paige had produced out of nowhere, when Stephie emerges from Paige’s bedroom where she’d gone looking for something to wear in lieu of pajamas. 

“Mama look what I found,” Stephie beams, proudly pointing at the black t-shirt she’s found that covers her whole body, “it’s you and Miss Buecks when you were littler.”

It’s their SLAM cover t-shirt and Azzi feels tears prickling at her waterline as she’s met with the picture of a younger version of the two of them. Back when they’d been so hopeful and carefree, ready to take on the world as long as they could do it together. Back when they’d been 2 in a million.

“I can’t believe you still have this,” Azzi whispers, unable to stop herself from running her fingers across the version of who they used to be. She wonders what those girls would think of them now; those girls who’d laid and bed and pinky promised forever. She thinks they’d probably be appalled at the fact that Paige and Azzi had spent eight years barely speaking. She thinks maybe they’d hate her for what she’d done. She thinks maybe she hates herself a little bit for what she’s done to them. 

Paige is leaning against the wall, her voice quiet when she speaks, “I couldn’t let it go.”

And they both know she’s not talking about the shirt. 

“Can we watch a movie?” Stephie asks, diving into the fort and peering up at the two adults. 

Paige recovers first, “yeah- yeah of course Steph,” she looks at Azzi, “do you- do you want something else to sleep in?”

“I’m good,” Azzi says, trying to inconspicuously brush away a rebellious tear. The shirt she’s wearing feels itchy against her skin but she doesn’t think she could handle wearing something of Paige’s. She scooches into the fort, leaning back against one of the pillows and Stephie’s quick to curl into her and Azzi absentmindedly rubs her hands down her daughter’s back. Paige switches on the TV, letting Stephie dictate a movie choice before letting herself into the fort, laying down on Stephie’s other side. 

“Miss Buecks come cuddle,” Stephie demands from where her head is laying on Azzi’s chest. When Paige hesitates, the younger girl takes it upon herself to pull Paige’s arms over her, making the older woman lie on her side so she can drape her hands over Stephie's stomach, accidentally brushing against Azzi’s ribcage. Stephie lets out a satisfied sigh, lying back down against Azzi, crossing her arms so she can hold Paige’s hand with one and latch onto her mother with the other. 

“Perfect.”

And it is. The sound of Stephie’s chatter slowly fading away mixed with Paige’s quiet breathing is the perfect lullaby and Azzi finds herself drifting off into the best sleep she’s had in years. 

***

Sunlight peeks in through the window and Azzi groans at the interruption. Her whole body feels a little stiff, not used to sleeping on the floor like this. A quick glance at her phone tells her it’s 7 a.m. and Azzi’s just about to let herself fall back asleep when her eyes land on the two sleeping figures next to her. Stephie’s face is buried in Paige’s neck, one arm slung over her waist. Paige, mouth slightly ajar as she sleeps, has both hands fastened on the younger, holding her tightly against her chest like she’d fight the world if someone tried to steal her from her grip. They look happy, content, at peace. And Azzi can’t breathe. 

The warning bells in her head create a cacophonous commotion that she can no longer escape. It hits her like whiplash that she can’t do this. She doesn’t know what had gotten into her last night, why she’d agreed to this, to any of this. But she can’t do this. 

“Stephie,” Azzi whispers urgently, trying to pull her daughter out of Paige’s grasp, “Stephie wake up.”

“Az?” Paige asks groggily, stirring in her sleep, “what’s going on?”

“We need to go home,” Azzi says and she can’t bear to look at Paige. 

“What?” Paige is far more awake now as she glances at her phone, “it’s 7 am Azzi. What’s the rush?"

Azzi ignores her, still trying to wake Stephie up who groans, “Mama too early.”

“Steph-”

“Azzi,” Paige’s voice is firm as she wraps her hand around Azzi’s wrist, slipping Stephie off of her, “what is going on.”

Azzi grits her teeth, “nothing’s going on. We just need to go home.”

“Azzi-”

“We shouldn’t have stayed last night Paige,” Azzi bursts out and Paige freezes. 

“Come out of the fort Azzi,” the blond says, her voice eerily calm as she stands up. Azzi follows after her, heart beating rapidly against her chest as she tries to keep the tears at bay. 

“We need to go home,” the brunette repeats, struggling to breathe, “this was a mistake,” Paige flinches and Azzi feels a knife turn in her own hurt, “we can’t do this.”

“Do what Azzi?” Paige asks exasperatedly, still trying to keep her voice low for Stephie’s sake. 

“This,” Azzi all but shrieks, throwing her hands up, “it’s too much, too quick and Stephie- Stephie’s getting attached and I can’t- I can’t let that happen.”

“Why not?” Paige argues stubbornly. 

“Because these last two weeks she couldn’t fall asleep without you on the phone. Because you’re all she talks about sometimes. Because she’s gonna want you forever,” Azzi’s voice breaks, “and she can’t have you forever.”

“Az-”

“And you’re getting attached too. I see the way you look at her and it’s amazing but it’s not- it’s not sustainable Paige. For either of you. Because you’re gonna find someone soon,” the words taste sour on Azzi’s tongue, “and you’re not gonna have time for her and missing you is going to kill her and the guilt of that is going to hurt you. I’m trying to pro-”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Paige’s voice is hard now, eyes gleaming with fire, “you’re basing all of this on a hypothetical that might not even come true. You’re not protecting anybody. You’re projecting.”

Azzi reels back, “I am not projecting.”

“Yes you are,” Paige hisses, “you’re not scared of Stephie or me getting too attached. You’re scared of yourself getting too attached.”

“Mama? Miss Buecks,” Stephie’s tired eyes look warily between the two of them, “what’s going on?”

Azzi plasters a smile on her face as she picks up her little girl, trying to pretend that the truth in Paige’s words haven’t just made her feel hollow, “we’re going home Stephie.”

“I don’t wanna go home,” Stephie fights against Azzi’s grip, looking helplessly at Paige, “Miss Buecks I wanna stay. Can I please stay?”

“You have to listen to your Mama sweetheart” Paige says softly, heartbreak written over her face as she moves to press a kiss against Stephie’s knuckles, “but I’ll see you soon okay. I promise.”

“Miss Buecks,” Stephie whimpers and Azzi has never hated herself more as she rushes out of Paige’s new house, willing herself to not look back. She buckles Stephie in the back, pretending she doesn’t see the way Paige is watching them leave from the porch, like she’d do anything to stop it. And then she drives away. 

It isn’t until she’s safely in the confines over her own room, that Azzi finally lets the tears fall. And she consoles herself with the fact that it’s okay to crack her daughter's heart, to crack Paige’s heart, to crack her own heart, if that’s the only way she can stop their hearts from breaking altogether.

[a-reader-and-a-writer]

Sweeter Than Revenge Part 8

Fandom: Twisters, Tyler Owens, f!reader, Scott's Sister!reader Summary: The next few days pass by in a rush, but you've never been happier. That is until Scott reappears and decides to restart old drama. Word Count: 3872 TW: Heavy Making Out, Kissing, Undressing Each Other, Grinding, Tyler Picks Reader Up Briefly, Fingering, Confrontation, Family Drama, Language Notes: A massive thank you to @blue-aconite, @hederasgarden, and @seeyalaterinnovator for reading this over for me and for all the constant support! And to @mayhem24-7forever and @green-socks for always answering my late-night panicked messages

Divider created by me (please ask/credit before using)

Series Masterlist

The next five days passed in a blur, yet they were some of the best of your life. Every morning, Tyler met you at your door with a smile and a kiss. Then you’d walk downstairs together and join the other Wranglers for breakfast. Afterward, you packed up and rode with Tyler and Boone as you chased after a few tornados. 

While you no longer had that initial anxiety like you did on your first chase, you never got tired of the breathtaking feeling as the storm hit the front of the truck and you passed through the heart of the funnel. That rush of adrenaline surging through you never lessened, and you understood why the Wranglers continued to do this after so long. 

After each chase, Boone and Lily reviewed the footage he captured, Dani inspected Tyler’s truck for any damage, and Dexter began checking for any more potential storms forming in the area. Meanwhile, you and Tyler would sneak off for some time alone together. Sometimes it would be in the bed of his truck, sometimes in the middle of an empty field, and, one time, even on the top of Dani and Dexter’s van. 

Most of the time, you kept things fairly PG—just some making out, snuggling against his chest while he held you, or him laying his head in your lap while you played with his hair. But occasionally, things would drift into a little more mature nature. You still had only known Tyler for less than a week and didn’t want to move too quickly, but sometimes you couldn’t help yourself. A few times after an exceptionally exhilarating storm or when Tyler was being extra sweet, you found yourself straddling his lap, grinding against him as his hand cupped your breasts. 

These moments often ended with the two of you panting heavily next to each other while you gave Tyler a few minutes to calm down so he could walk back to the rest of the crew. Though you knew you weren’t fooling anyone about what you were getting up to, no one said anything. However, you did catch Boone, Dani, and Lily exchanging a few pointed glances and snickering. If Tyler noticed, he didn’t let on. He just wrapped his arm across your shoulders and walked towards his truck with a big ol’ grin on his face.

Then, later once everyone had settled into their new accommodations for the night, Tyler would walk you to your room and say good night. Every time it became harder and harder to watch him walk away. You wanted him so badly and not just on a physical level. Sure, he was the most attractive man you’d ever kissed, but the more you learned about him—the more you got to know his personality, humor, and intelligence— the more you needed him to fuck your brains out. 

But that was the old you talking. The new you was trying to restrain yourself and build a solid foundation before taking this steer for a ride, but damn if it wasn’t frustrating. To make matters worse, you had planned to spend this trip with your brother, potentially sharing a room, so you hadn’t packed anything that would help you work out those frustrations. So every night when Tyler left you alone—lightheaded, wet, and needy—all you had was the almost non-existent pressure from the motel shower head and your own hand for any relief. 

As much as you were trying to behave, all it was going to take was one small thing for your cracking resolve to crumble completely.

The Wranglers changed motels almost every night since the storms sometimes took them hours away from where they started their day. However, all the chasers tended to follow the same storm cells so they all ended up in roughly the same location each night. 

Since receiving Javi’s note, you had spotted Scott several times. Sometimes it was at a gas station or a dinner, but most often it was at the motel as everyone settled in for the night or prepared to roll out in the morning. In each instance, you tried your best to stay out of his sight or not draw attention to yourself. At this point, you honestly couldn’t care less about what Scott thought of you or your being here. All of your focus was now on Tyler and the Wranglers. However, you knew Scott was still angry you were hanging around so you figured it was just easier to avoid him than to continue to poke the very grumpy, gum-chewing bear. 

But apparently, he had other plans.

On your ninth day in Oklahoma, Tyler picked you up at your room like always, planting a kiss on your lips and sliding your backpack onto his shoulder as soon as you opened the door. However, it was only when you were both at the bottom of the stairs that you remembered you had left your toothbrush on the sink to dry. He offered to run back and get it for you, but you waved him off, insisting you could go while he loaded everything into the truck. You could see it went against every courteous bone in his body, but he reluctantly agreed though you could feel his eyes on you until you disappeared at the top of the stairs. 

Luckily, you hadn’t returned your key to the drop box yet so you could enter the room, grab your toothbrush (which was sitting smack in the middle of the counter clear a day), and hurry back to the stairs all in less than thirty seconds. 

Crossing the parking lot, you spotted Tyler storing your backpack in the back of the truck and were about to start jogging over when a voice from behind you said, “So, it’s been over a week. When are you going to call off this little charade of yours?”

Sighing, you stopped and turned to face your brother. “It’s not a charade. I like the Wranglers and I’m having fun. I’m sorry if you don’t like that, but I’ve tried to stay out of your way. I don’t know what else you want me to do.”

Standing with his hands on his hips and his sunglasses tucked into his button-down’s front pocket, he snapped. “I want you to go home.”

“Scotty—”

“And stop calling me that!” Scott’s nostrils flared as his eyes burned beneath the bill of his hat. “I’m not ten anymore and this is still my place of work even if you treat it like a theme park. Some of us are trying to do a job while you play daredevil and make out with your latest boy toy.”

You knew he was pushing for a fight, but you physically bit your tongue to not take the bait. Ignoring his last outburst, you answered his previous question in a calm voice. “I’ll go home in a few days like I planned. Until then…Scott…” You dipped your head and resumed your walk. 

Looking ahead, you noticed Tyler had stopped packing and was leaning against the side of the truck, his arms folded across his chest, his eyes following your every step. You could tell by his rigid posture and stony expression that he heard what you and Scott said. You were about to give him a small wave to let him know everything was alright, but, before you could, Scott called after you.

“Hey! What is it that you want? An apology?” he shouted, his face turning slightly red. “You want me to say I’m sorry for getting angry that you showed up unannounced to where I work with the hope of just inserting yourself into the middle of a dangerous and highly complex situation? You want me to say I’ve learned my lesson after watching you throw yourself at Owens every chance you get? Hmm? That watching him jam his tongue down my little sister’s throat while broadcasting it to the entire fucking world showed me how wrong I was? Would that make you happy?”

Turning back around, you said, “I don’t want you to do anything unless you want to and you mean it. But, you know what—” you threw your arms into the air “—you were right.”

Scott’s eyes narrowed slightly as he examined you, searching for what kind of trick you were trying to pull now. “I was?”

“Yeah,” you said, nodding. “I shouldn’t have just showed up without asking first but I knew if I had, you’d have told me no. Well, actually, you’d have told me ‘fuck no’. So I figured it would be better to ask for forgiveness than permission and I just showed up. I did fall back on that self-centered, ‘everything works out for me’ person I once was and I’m sorry. It was exactly that behavior I came here to show you I had outgrown.”

Taking a few steps closer to your brother, you added, “But, Scott, let's be real. You wouldn’t have actually answered my phone calls or texts if I had tried to ask. We barely ever talk and the only times I see you are at Christmas, Thanksgiving, and, occasionally, someone’s birthday. But I wanted to change that. I wanted to try to rebuild this relationship before it was too late. Before we drift so far apart that there’s no finding a way back. I still want my big brother in my life, but now I’m afraid all I did was push you even further away.”

You waited for him to say something, to assure you he still wanted that too or that you had screwed things up past the point of redemption. But when he just stared at the ground with his jaw clenched, you nodded, wiping a tear from your cheek. “So, I promise, I’m done playing games or trying to force a relationship between us. I’ll stay out of your way as much as possible while I’m here but I’m not ready to leave yet. I know that may not be fair to you and I’m sorry. I’ll see about staying at a different motel than Storm PAR from now on—one less place for you to have to see me.” You turned to leave, but paused to add, “The next time I’ll contact you is right before I leave. That way you’ll know when I’ll be out of your hair. Until then, you have my number if you change your mind and want to talk.” Wiping a few more tears off your face as you walked away.

It hurt, being so vulnerable and laying out how you felt only to get absolutely no response in return. You hadn’t expected Scott to wrap you in a tight hug and promise things would be sunshine and rainbows from here on out, but you had hoped he would at least acknowledge your feelings in some way. But then again, this was Scott you were talking about. You couldn’t remember the last time he had ever given you a hug or compliment that he wasn’t forced into giving you. Maybe it was time to just let him go and stop trying to force something that was never going to happen. Maybe both of you would be happier in the long run.

As you neared, Tyler pushed off the side of the truck and asked, “Everything okay or do I need to step in?”

“Nah, we’re good. But thank you for offering.” You wrapped your arms around Tyler’s waist, leaning your head on his shoulder as he returned the embrace. Smiling into his chest, you said, “And thank you for not just coming over and jumping in when you saw things starting to get heated. Most guys I know would have barged over the minute they saw us and it would have turned into a huge fight. Instead, I was able to say some things that needed to be said.”

“I knew you could handle yourself.” He squeezed you tighter. Then he muttered, “Besides, I’m not most guys.”

“I’ve noticed,” you grinned as you recalled a similar conversation the two of you had the first morning he had picked you up at your room. “And I’m so grateful for that.” 

He kissed the top of your head then released you. “So, we ready to go?”

You nodded and he opened the passenger door to his truck. As he helped you in, you looked up to see Scott watching you. Since you had last seen him, he had slipped his sunglasses on so you had trouble reading his expression. You gave him a nod with a small smile but he just turned and disappeared behind Scarecrow. You felt Tyler squeeze your hand and knew he noticed the exchange as well. Taking a deep breath, you finished climbing in and settled into your seat. But as Tyler drove his truck from the parking lot, you couldn’t ignore the gnawing feeling in your gut that that might have been the last time you saw your brother for a long time.

Looking out the window, you stared at the empty fields whooshing past. Everything here was so open and untouched. Normally, you viewed it as a nice change from the crowded, bustling city you came from, but today, it just made you feel so small and alone. 

As if sensing what you were feeling, Tyler reached over and took your hand as he drove. You gave it a quick squeeze of acknowledgment but your eyes remained gazing out the window. Boone had opted to ride with Lily until you reached a potential storm, so the only sound that filled the cab was the soft droning of country music turned down so low you couldn’t make out any of the lyrics. It was a far cry from the joyous laughter and deep conversations the two of you usually shared on these rides, but with your talk with Scott running through your head, you couldn’t focus on much else.

After about twenty minutes, Tyler finally broke the silence. “Hey, something you said to Scott got me thinking…”

“Hmm?” You ran your finger over a smudge of dust on the passenger’s window. “About what?”

“Why don’t you stay?”

Snapping out of your ruminations, your head whipped around to look at Tyler. “W-what?”

“I mean, you’re only supposed to be here for another five days, right?” He shrugged, “But what if you stayed longer?”

You blinked, suddenly realizing you and Tyler had never talked about your upcoming departure or what that would mean for the two of you. “I-I guess I hadn’t really thought about it. Do…do you want me to stay?”

Tyler chuckled, “Sweetheart, I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want you to. I realize eventually this’ll have to come to an end or something’ll have to change, but I’d like to spend as much time with you as I can before that happens.”

“Oh.” You felt the heat rushing to your face and a smile creeping across your lips. “In that case, I mean, I have classes starting soon that I’d have to be back for. But, yeah, since you want me to, I think I could manage a week or so longer than I originally planned. I’ll just have to call and move my flight.”

“I’d really like that,” Tyler said with a grin. “And let me know what it costs to change it. I’ll take care of it.”

Tears filled your eyes. You had the money, it was not an issue. But Tyler’s offer just solidified in your mind how much he actually wanted you to stay. He wasn’t just suggesting it to cheer you up after talking to Scott—he meant it. 

With a slight tremble in your voice, you said, “Ty, I—”

“Hope I’m not interrupting you lovebirds, but Dex just spotted a potential cell to the east forming fast.”

Dani’s voice cut through the cabin. You knew Tyler’s radio had been switched off so no one heard what you had been talking about, but you still sunk back in your seat. 

Tyler shot you an apologetic look then switched on his radio and responded. “We copy. Let’s pull off up here. Dexter can show us where we’re heading, Lily, we’ll need you to get Cairo ready to fly, and Boone, come join us up here once we park. Sound good?”

“All good, boss,” came the echoed reply. 

Tyler switched the radio back off and glanced at you. “Anything else you wanna say before things get crazy or you wanna pick up this conversation later?”

“We can talk later. Thank you, Tyler.”

He squeezed your hand before turning his focus back to the road as he looked for a place to pull off. You leaned your head against the window and stared back out at the field, the gears already turning in your head. 

You didn’t want to talk. If today had shown you anything, it was that you were ready to show Tyler how you felt. 

No one commented or asked questions when Tyler informed the crew that they would be staying at a motel a little farther away than originally planned. You had been nervous about asking him to go to a different motel than Storm PAR, but apparently, he heard your promise to Scott and remembered without you having to say a word. Taking his hand from where it rested on the center console, you kissed the back of it before resting your cheek against it. Tyler glanced over at you and smiled, acknowledging your silent ‘thank you’.

Usually, Tyler walked you to your room as soon as the vehicles were parked and your bag was unloaded. However, tonight you insisted on staying downstairs to help everyone with their nighttime routines. Tyler seemed a little surprised but was more than happy for your company. He showed you all the checks he, Boone, and Dani ran on the truck each night to ensure everything was still functioning correctly. Lily let you help her charge up Cairo and download all the footage she captured today. And Dexter asked you to prep the food for breakfast in the morning. You never realized how much the Wranglers had to do each night while you sat alone in your motel room. But you promised to help out from now on.

When everything was finally done, Tyler grinned widely at you—his dimples on full display—and grabbed your bag. The two of you didn’t talk as he walked you to your room, but you snuggled close to him, listening to his heart beating beneath your cheek. 

Far too soon, you reached your room. Just like every night, you unlocked the door and Tyler handed you your backpack. However, tonight instead of keeping ahold of the bag, you tossed it inside the room, not bothering to look where it landed. 

Turning back to Tyler, you fluttered your eyelashes and asked, “So, Mr. Owens, care to join me inside?”

Tyler's eyes grew wide as he swallowed, his Adam's apple leaping in his throat. Stepping closer until he towered over you, he whispered, “Are you sure, sweetheart?”

You nodded, just a soft dip of your head. “I think it’s time I invited this cowboy in.” And you stepped back to give him space to enter the room. 

You knew it wasn’t your smoothest pick-up line, but when all you could think about was how much you needed him, you were surprised you could string a coherent sentence together. However, Tyler didn’t seem to mind. He hesitated for a second then stepped over the threshold into your room. 

For the past few days, you and Tyler had been making out every chance you got, yet the energy between you already felt so different. This time, you both knew there was no need to hold back. The second the door clicked shut, Tyler grabbed your waist and spun you around. Driving you backward, he pinned you against the door with his body as his lips ensnared yours. You melted against him with a moan. Running your fingers under his cowboy hat, you tugged on his hair as his tongue slipped between your lips. 

Needing to feel more of him against your skin, you pulled your shirt over your head and tossed it to the side. Tyler stumbled back for a moment, his eyes drinking you in, and then he launched forward, sweeping you into his arms. His mouth latched onto your collarbone and he began to suck hungrily as if his life depended on it. You could already tell you would have a mark there in the morning, but you didn’t dare tell him to stop. 

As he helped you shimmy out of your shorts, your fingers fumbled blindly with the buttons on his flannel shirt. You moaned into his mouth as your hands brushed against his muscular bare chest for the first time. Your fingers traveled lower, tracing along his firm stomach until you felt his coarse trail of hair leading down to the top of his jeans, and your core clenched against nothing. The emptiness within you was becoming unbearable.

You moaned as you rubbed against him, “Ty, I need you inside me. Please. I’ve wanted this for so long.”

Detaching himself from your neck, he murmured, “Patience is a virtue, my beautiful girl. And you’ve been so good.” You whimpered as the praise shot straight through you. “Now it’s time for your reward.”

Lifting you up, Tyler carried you over to your bed. He laid you down gently on the edge then stood back to gaze down at you. However, as you reached back to unhook your bra, he grabbed your hands before you could slip it off.

Chest heaving, he stared deep into your eyes. “Sweetheart, if you want to stop—”

Shoving him away, you let your bra drop to the floor as you demanded, “Take your pants off.”

That was all Tyler needed to hear. Quickly, he yanked off his boots and unclasped his trademark buckle, the metal clinking loudly as he tore his jeans off and tossed them to the other side of the room. Standing there in nothing but his black boxer briefs, he was a sight to behold but you wanted more. 

And, always the gentleman, Tyler seemed ready to oblige.

Pulling you down so your ass rested on the edge of the bed, Tyler hooked one finger into the waistband of your panties and slowly slid them off. Hunger darkened his usually pale green eyes as the last of your clothes joined the pile on the floor. He groaned and palmed himself through his underwear and you felt a rush of pride that you could make him react like that. 

Running one hand through his hair, you tugged on it so he looked at your face. “I know you’re out of practice, Mr. Ex-Bull Rider, but I expect you to last more than eight seconds.”

He chuckled as he grabbed your knees and thrust your legs apart. Slowly, he slid two fingers into his mouth and pulled them out with a pop. “Sweetheart, I wouldn’t worry about me.” 

He plunged his fingers deep into you, causing you to collapse back onto the bed as your world went white. 

Part 9 coming 10/7!

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[uyuforu]

Why your Birthday is your Personal New Year

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Your Birthday's Significance

Your birthday mark the day you were born (duh), but it's more than just a day we celebrate the day you were born. It marks the day you came into this world. As we know, in Astrology, we calculate our birth chart/ natal chart based on the exact moment you were born. It will ten create a map, with planets, asteroids, placements, and houses based on a rising, and specific degrees represents the specific placements of planets the minute you came into this world, and this detail makes you very unique. In this case, your birthday isn't just a celebration, it's also your personal new year. While humanity celebrate it as a group of individual on a certain date (depending on the culture), you as an individual will celebrate it on the day you were born. You are growing one year older, with one year full of new achievements and new events coming into your life. Let's see what can help you see those!

Your Solar Return Chart

જ⁀➴ Calculate your Solar Return here.

Free Horoscopes > Horoscopes Drawings & Data > Extended Chart Selection > Chart Type: Solar Return Chart

Your Solar Return Chart (SRC) is an Astrological tool that enables you to see what will most likely happen to you during your next year. As it is said, it is your Solar Return, so your Sun's return. Based on your natal sun, on the exact degree, SRC is calculated based on when the Sun will return on the same sign with the exact same degree. You'll see in each SRC, your Sun is in the same sign and degree as your Natal Sun. Only the house will change if you have different risings in your SRC over the years.

This means that each year, on your birthday, or the day before your birthday sometimes, you'll pass through another SRC, and have a view on what will most likely happen to you. You can also use this technique to check previous SRC and understand some life events better. Checking our SRC is a way to see that every years of our life, we achieve and change, and transform, as we are meant to evolve with time.

Annual Profections

જ⁀➴ Calculate your Annual Profections here.

Annual Profections are based also on Astrology, and mostly on our ages and houses. Basically, this tool explains that depending on which age (and so birthdays) we are, we embody a certain house that year. For example, when you will turn 25, you'll embody the 2H more. It usually means you'll probably be more focus on savings, money, perhaps making more money this year, or also changing the way you manage your money, etc. Each House has a different meaning. Of course, this doesn't mean you will need to wait to be on a certain house to do something. It just means as an individual, those houses will represent your more intern focus. And it may actually go naturally, without you need to force anything. Life is most likely to put you through certain transformations based on the houses' themes.

Numerology's Personal Year

This isn't a subject I know very well, I just have some base. So if you are interested in it, I suggest checking more on Tumblr or the Internet. An account that has more knowledge is @lilithsrealm. I suggest checking their account!

Numerology is a great tool too to check on your birthday. Just as with SRC and Annual Profections, Numerology can also tell you in what phase you'll enter this "new year". You'll need to take your birth day, birth month, and the current year of your birthday, add all of those numbers together, and then get a number that will be the total of all of those, and this will be your personal year number!

Example: I was born on August 6th, so 8 / 6. And this is the year 2024. So I'll calculate 8 + 6 + 2 + 0 + 2 + 4. All together this makes 22, so it's my personal year number this year. So, specific case, but 22 is a master number, so in this case we don't really add it together again. But if you end up with any other number than 10/ 11/ 22 or 33, then you add it together. Even if mine is 22, the 4 energy will still be there, but 22 is important. I say 4 because 2+2=4 (lol).

Every year, on your birthday, your personal year number change, indicating you'll go through another cycle of your life. Each numbers mean something specific, so I suggest making more researches after finding out yours!

Destiny Matrix

જ⁀➴ Calculate your Destiny Matrix Chart here.

જ⁀➴ Destiny Matrix Romance Numbers

Destiny Matrix is an Esoteric tool that explores the 22 Arcana's of the Tarot to see a different approach of yourself and your life, as a Chart, similar to Astrology. It's a tool that also enable you to develop your full potential as an individual. Numbers and Chakras are used instead of signs, houses and degrees. Numbers on the Chart will go from 1 to 22, representing each Tarot's 22 Major Arcanas. Colored Numbers are your main energies, they are also great tools to understand your true potential and why you came into this life, but also past life, desires, and your soul's purpose. On each sides of the chart, you'll see your different ages, representing different eras of your life. And above those different ages, you'll see a number, between 1 to 22.

Different ages then represent different birthdays. And the numbers above those age represents the different energies, based on the Tarot's Major Arcanas. It will represent the energy of those specific years, and not only in a specific area, but as a whole. For example, I have 8 this year, so this can represent entering legal matters with someone, for example, a wedding, or a contract with a society. It can also mean being more mature and taking more responsible choices. It's also closing a karmic cycle, etc.

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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

All In 8

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, power imbalance, low self esteem, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: you meet a mysterious man on a night out with your sister. (petite!reader)

based on the winning option for this poll

Characters: casino owner!Bucky Barnes

Note: Hellllllooooo 😁

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The next morning comes too soon and with too little sleep. Despite your efforts, you couldn’t lay still long enough to get much rest. Every time you sunk into the shallows of sleep, you were just as quickly awoken by visions of the unknown. You don’t know anything beyond the time at which you’ll set off to your fate; nine o’clock. 

You don’t need an alarm. You're already awake and alert. You sit up and rub your temples until the thumping dulls. You can’t entirely shake the pulsing thrum.  

You drag yourself to your feet and cross to your dresser. You open each drawer, sifting through the contents with disappointment. You don’t have anything that nice. You pick out your nicest jeans and a halter top Roxie gave you. You’ll be sweating your bum off in the denim but you don’t have many skirts or even shorts. 

You can hear your mother getting ready for her own day of work. Of actual work. You wait until she’s done to claim the bathroom. She’s off only a couple minutes after, calling out a goodbye and I love you that you return in a higher pitch than you mean to. 

You dress and tidy yourself up as best you can. Your bedtime shower did little to help you sleep but at least it saves you a step. You spritz yourself with strawberry body spray and try to smile at your reflection as you put your toothbrush back.

Sigh. Did Bucky really call you sexy? 

It’s not even eight. Lots of time to wallow in anxiety and self-doubt. You pace around the front room, ready to go, but not really. You have your purse with the fringe and your least-worn flats. They pinch around your toes but they’re cute; pink loafers with a little leather rose on each. 

You cradle your phone then squeeze it hard enough to make it light up. Only a few minutes. Or not. You hear a car outside and peer through the curtain. You recognise the vehicle. Shoot, time to go. Oh, god, what are you doing? 

You lock the door behind you and turn to face the gallows. Each step is filled with sand, your legs are heavy and your feet clunky. As you near, Merv appears to open the door for you. You’re surprised but not to find Bucky waiting within. 

As you slide onto the seat, he watches you and rumbles out a silty, ‘morning, doll.’ You aren’t ready. You don’t know why but you thought the drive would give you time to toss away the last of your caution but you’re clinging to it like a raft. You feel entirely powerless. More than you ever have. 

What he promises, money; you always assumed it would give you more control, that it would solve all your problems, but it’s really just a new set of problems. You settle onto the seat as the door closes and buckle your seat belt, focusing on the simple task. He stretches his arm over the back of the seat as you lean against it and his heat seethes into you. 

“Good morning,” you force out at last. 

“That’s a cute shirt,” he purrs as his hand wanders down to tickle your bare shoulder, your nude bra strap showing garishly. “Would look better without this.” He touches the strap and you make a noise. “But I can wait for that, doll.” 

You stare forward. The divider between you and the front seat is up. You are completely alone. You feel your heart about to swell and split. 

“I’ll admit, I was up late last night,” his arms shifts slightly as he leans forward. You only notice then the scent of coffee and two cups in the holders behind the console. “Got a pick-me-up to start the day. Gotta be awake for you, doll.” 

He takes one of the cups and you realise, he means to offer it to you. You feel too bad to tell him you’re not much for coffee. “It’s called a blue dream tea latte? I think it’s blueberry or something. I saw it in some ad online. Sounded like something you’d like.” 

“Oh, thanks, er, it does?” You murmur. You’d seen the same promotion on Pinterest. It’s a rather strange coincidence that he’d think of you. “I... I’ve never tried a tea latte.” 

“Doll, I’m gonna give you lots of things you never had, take you places you never been,” he flutters his fingers across your neck as he retracts his arm. He grabs the other cup and groans as he sits back, blowing over the plastic lid. “So tell me,” his arms presses against yours. He seems so big sitting so close, “where’ somewhere you always wanted to go?” 

“Er, I don’t...” your eyes drift over as Merv drives lazily through your neighbourhood, “know. I never... thought about it.” 

“Anything you always wanted to do? Skydiving? Wait, yeah, you don’t like being high up. Makes sense, being so close to the ground, huh?” He chuckles and leans into you playfully, “you an outdoorsy type? You like hiking?” 

“Um, I don’t know, I think... I like walking in the park sometimes,” you hold the cup with both hands, letting the warmth flow into your cold veins. You can smell the blueberry and you instinctively take wife through the slot of the lid. 

“Mm, don’t worry, we’ll figure it out, doll,” he assures you and sips again, swallowing thickly before he lets out a thigh. “I think you’ll like what I got planned, even if you don’t know what you want. I’ve always been good at figuring that out, you know?” 

“Oh?” 

He laughs again, “you’re so cute, doll.” He looks over at you, “how’s the latte? Did I do good?” 

Your eyes nearly cross as you stare at the cup. You bring it up carefully and take a dainty sip. You almost moan at the creamy but sweet taste. You pull the lid away and dab your lips with the back of your hand, turning to give him a wide-eyed look. 

“It’s delicious,” you smile. 

He grins and tilts his head, “see, doll, you don’t even gotta say it. I know exactly what you need.” 

You’re breathless. Something about his tone, his words, mingles and coils around your throat. It’s like one of those old Wattpad fantasies you devoured in your teen years, those escapist dreams of having everything taken care of and not having to think, and yet, it’s too real. You take another drink to keep busy. 

“After our first stop, we’ll eat,” he says, “that okay? You’re not ravenous?” 

His words make you flinch. You blink and shake your head, “I’m okay.” 

“Sounds good, doll,” he relaxes and once more extends his arms over your shoulders, this time hugging you closer.  

He turns his head and nuzzles you, making you squirm. You’re rigid, paralysed by the proximity. You’ve never been this close with anyone. He still feels like a stranger. 

“Mmm, strawberries,” he growls, “I like that.” 

You giggle and barely keep a hold of your cup. You really can’t understand it. You never had interest from anyone. You didn’t even really have friends in school. Sometimes, you even think Roxie hates you, and your mom, well, she loves you because you have to. You just can’t comprehend what he sees. 

“Thanks...” you wisp. 

“No, thank you, doll,” he drawls, “for making my morning brighter.” 

🃏

You doubt Bucky does anything in half-measures. Merv pulls up to another upscale building and you can’t help but gape out at the white brick facade. Everything is so big and fancy and better than you. You’re so out of place in his world that you can’t but wait for the moment he decides to kick you out of it. 

The white-haired driver gets out to open the door. As you step out, your loafer slips off your heel and your foot slides down the curb. You trip outward, bracing yourself for impact, but don’t hit the ground. A hand wraps around your arm and pulls you back onto the seat. You cringe, happy at least that Bucky can’t see your face as he clings to you. 

“You okay, doll?” He asks, “you hurt yourself?” 

“No, no,” you wriggle in his grasp, “I’m fine. It was just... stupid.” 

“Not stupid, good thing I was here to catch you, huh?” He reluctantly releases you, a caress along the back of your arm, “now you be careful. You need me to get out and carry you--” 

“No, no!” You grab the car and push yourself out, fixing your shoe as you get your bearings. “Really, I’m okay.” 

He chuckles and follows. It he laughing at you? You turn to face him as he steps up on the curb. It’s easy when he’s sitting to forget how small you really are. 

“All good, doll, I just can’t have you getting banged up,” he says as he gestures you across the wide sidewalk. 

You peer back as Merv shuts the door and Bucky brings his hand to your lower back, just like that woman at the casino. His gentle touch sends a chill up your back despite the beaming heat from above. 

“Promise, you’re gonna love this.”  

He urges you on to the front doors. They are made of iron, twisted in the middle, and two long handles curlicue in the middle. He stops and presses the little silver button along the side, a buzz muffled within. You wait, fidgeting, and presses his palm firmly to your back. You still yourself and clutch your bag tighter. 

The interior doors, dark walnut, open inward and a woman appears within with a particularly snobbish look. She’s tall with straight shoulders and a Chanel style suit. She unlocks the iron doors and opens the right one. She eyes Bucky past her hooked nose as she lifts it higher. 

“Mr. Barnes,” she greets. 

“Meredith,” he returns, “thanks for having me.” 

“Only for you,” she assures as her eyes fall upon you, “you’ve brought...” 

“Someone very special. A connoisseur like yourself,” he insists, curtailing whatever she thought to remark. 

“Yes, certainly she would be,” the woman accepts with a sniff and steps back, “please, come in. Should I have Charlene make tea?” 

“I don’t think we will require it. Doll?” He pauses as he confirms with you. 

You shake your head, “no thank you.” 

“Very well, follow me, then,” she spins and struts away.  

Bucky nudges you inside first, following through the narrow door. As he comes up parallel to you, a shadow appears to close the doors behind him. The whole experience is eerie. What is going on? 

You follow the woman, Meredith, up the wooden stairs with a rose-printed runner along the center of the steps. At the top, you smell the definitive scent of books. She directs you into a room, opening the door but standing back to let you through. Bucky nods and thanks her one last time. 

“You know the rules, Barnes,” she warns. 

“Been a while...” he mutters. 

“You remember,” she rebukes. 

He laughs and pulls the door shut as she retreats, her heels clicking through the wall until they taper off to nothing. A record player drones from the corner and the window lets in the yellow sunshine, adding to the illumination of glass-shaded lamps. You peer around, as curious as you are confused. 

Bucky brushes by you, knuckles rubbing against your waist, and he approaches the antique table at the center. Several stacks of books sit neatly piled atop it. You approach sheepishly and read the spines. You recognise the titles though you’ve never read any of them. As you think, you realise that these are the same books you have on your reading app. How could he know? 

Your mouth falls open as you keep your hands folded together. You don’t dare to touch anything. It all seems so nice and likely expensive. And with how Meredith spoke, you’re certain she wouldn’t appreciate you putting anything out of place. 

“She’s a book collector. I came here a few years back to buy some first editions for my sister,” he picks up a book. 

“How...” you bend to read further down a stack. 

“A lot you can learn about a person online,” he flutters through the pages, “isn’t there?” 

You look at him and blanch. 

“I know you Googled me. Everyone does,” he snickers, “it’s fine. Comes with the territory. But you...” he snaps the book shut and comes around the table, holding it out to you, “all I found were some books and a few pictures of a cat.” 

You take the book and stare at the cover. Those pictures were old. Kai died at the end of high school. You run your hand over the embossed title; Middlemarch. You remember adding it after binging and old British series. 

“My cat. She’s gone now,” you shrug. 

“Sorry to hear that, doll,” he says. “I might know someone who can cheer you up, though.” 

“It’s... fine. She was a good cat,” you shrug. 

“Hm, yeah, but a friend, all the same,” he says, “so, you want it?” 

“What?” You peek at the book again. 

“All of them? I can have them packed and sent to your house.” 

“Huh?” Your eyes nearly bulge out of your skull, “my mom...” 

“Ah, it’s fine, we can sneak em in,” he assures. 

“No, no, I couldn’t... it’s too much. Very nice but... must be... a lot.” 

“It is, doll. Meredith gave me a damn headache tryna get in here on short notice but I did it,” he leans a hand on the table and hooks one foot over the other. “You gotta at least pick one thing to walk out of here with.” 

“Oh, I... I wasn’t meaning... I didn’t mean to be ungrateful,” you rub your thumbs along the edges of the book, “sorry.” 

“It’s fine. I know you’re not, doll. You’re... adjusting. I’m doing my best not to scare ya away but you gotta bite the carrot a little here,” he says, “so grab a few and we’ll go have some breakfast.” 

“I...” you look between him and the table. You have no doubt that he went to a lot of effort for this. For you. You can’t just throw it back in his face. “Thank you, it’s...” you turn to face the table and lean in to see more of the books. You let yourself smile, “it’s wonderful. No one’s ever... except mom...” 

“Get used to it, doll,” he steps closer, his hand once more on your back, “with a smile like that, I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of seeing it.” 

[eddiesghxst]

PRICE OF FAME (PART 8/12)

18+ — MINORS DNI

pairing: rockstar!eddie x journalist!reader

summary: eddie is bad with words

contains: enemies to lovers trope, smoking, drug and alcohol use, sexual themes, moreee jealous!eddie, mentions of piercings, smut, King James III, flirting, tension tension tension, and eddie being... idk, here u go <3

word count: 6.2k

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| series masterlist | -main masterlist- |

“A date?”

The room has kicked into an orderly chaos compared to how it was just seconds ago. Richie is rallying the boys out of the room, an assistant is walking through with a trash bag to clean up the disastrous aftermath of pre-show rituals, and James is looking at you like you both have all the time in the world.

“Yeah, I mean… we don’t have to call it a date,” he shrugs, “we can just… hang out, maybe? Grab a bite to eat, maybe? Whatever you want.”

And oh god, Eddie was right.

And fuck— Eddie.

You scan the room for any sign of Eddie, but you find none, just the remains of smoke in the air and an irritated assistant picking up sticky bottles.

James’ hand has dropped from your waist, and his fingertips now lightly dance across the back of your hand, slinking around to grasp two of your fingers and give a light squeeze. Your heart races, eyes snapping back to his kind gaze. “Oh, um… okay, yeah.” You nod.

James smiles and tells you he’ll be out in the crowd with you in a little bit, and you nod before making your way out of the room. 

You said yes.

You said yes to James’ date, and honestly, a small part of you is excited because, god, it’s been such a long time since you’ve been on a date.

It’s hard to find time to date when you’re busy jumping from band to band, writing articles and music reviews, and still, somehow, managing to balance your own home life.

However, you were also under the impression that you and James had more of a friendship than anything romantic, so a bigger part of you is shocked (and slightly annoyed that Eddie managed to catch onto it before you did).

And then there’s that feeling. That tiny feeling in the corner of your mind that just wishes it was Eddie who had asked you. It’s a small feeling, yes, but it has a loud voice, and you find yourself growing irritated that you’re even thinking about Eddie when he only ever made things difficult.

But is it wrong to want somebody who doesn’t know what they want for themselves? Is it wrong to want someone who can’t even bring themselves to look you in the eye and be honest for one minute?

Because it’s no secret, the chemistry brewing between you and Eddie, from the moment you met, there was an obvious attraction, and the only thing that got in the way of that was Eddie’s aversion towards your job— which is beyond your control. 

And though there’s obviously a sexual attraction between you both, you can’t seem to deny the emotional connection you also share— because you and Eddie are more alike than what meets the eye.

Clearly, you both share a love for music, but you also grew up with similar experiences— from being teased for being and liking different things than your peers to having your heart broken by who you imagined would be your forever person.

God, why are you thinking about Eddie when you’ve just scored a date with James? 

You’re not paying attention when you step out of the dressing room, so you’re shocked and slightly spooked when you feel a hand wrapping around your bicep and tugging you off to the side of the door.

It’s Eddie; you know it’s Eddie because you’ve become an expert at depicting Eddie’s scent, and right now, you’re drowning in him. 

Eddie’s eyes are sharp and angry with a chilling undertone of something you can’t quite pinpoint. Fear? Jealousy? Resistance?

“Not into each other, huh?”

You blink at Eddie, still trying to find your way through the daze of events you’ve just gone through, and your eyebrows furrow in annoyance, “Oh, for fucks sake, Eddie. Are you serious—” “You can’t stand here and lie to me when I just witnessed whatever the fuck that was in there.” He gestures to the wall beside you, the wall that separates you and Eddie from James.

“It wasn’t anything.” You lie. 

Eddie doesn’t buy it, however, because he’s leaning in closer, alcohol and mint-coated breath fanning across your face as he calmly asks, “Then what did he say?”

You shake your head, dizzy with his proximity and the fear that James could walk out any second and see you and Eddie practically pressed against each other and misread the situation— because even though you may not precisely like James romantically, you still care for him, and you don’t want to hurt his feelings. 

How will you let him down easily after the date, then? What if the date goes well, and James thinks you’re more interested in him than you actually are? This is a mess, and your mind is a whirlwind of things you shouldn’t have done.

You blink through the haze once again, “Huh?”

Eddie’s jaw ticks, “What did he say to you? You looked shocked; what’d he say?”

Oh god, Eddie saw that? You thought he’d maybe have gotten bored of watching, and now you wish Richie had bursted through the doors just a few seconds earlier. And why do you even care? Why do you care that Eddie saw or what his reaction might be if you tell him the truth? 

Your heart is racing, and Eddie’s eyes are beautiful, and he’s still holding your arm, and you hate how much you want to scream at him to just let you in. Because, suddenly, you don’t want to go on a date with James, even if James is the kinder route, the more willing candidate, the one that makes more sense.

“Why do you care, Eddie?” You snap.

“Because I,” Eddie pauses, frustration settling into his bones. He looks at you like you might be the only thing he’s ever truly seen, and you don’t realize how your fingers are curling around his elbow, both of your fingertips sinking into the warmth of what could be.

“Eddie!” 

Eddie removes his hand from you as if your skin is hot to the touch, and you drop your hand as well, curling your fingers into the palm of your hand and clenching with a deep breath.

Eddie turns to Richie, who’s holding a clipboard and barking directions at staff and crew. “Come on, man, you’re on in 30.” Richie waves his hand.

Eddie turns back to you, dark eyes now cleared and holding urgency as he speaks, “Can you just— fuck,” Eddie tugs at his curls, and your face twists in confusion. You say his name at the same time that Richie calls him once again, and Eddie grumbles, “One second, Rich!” Eddie calls back.

“Just don’t go anywhere for the first few songs, okay?”

“What?”

“Eddie, 10 seconds!” 

And Eddie’s pacing backward as he speaks to you, “Just the first few songs. Please?”

Please. You never thought you would hear that word coming from Eddie— and your stomach twists, but you nod anyway, and then Eddie’s off to the stage.

For some reason, tonight has spun out in ways you’re having trouble wrapping your mind around, and you barely hear James walking out of the room until he presses a gentle hand to your shoulder, pulling your eyes to him.

He has your lightweight jacket in one hand as he offers it to you, “I was thinking maybe we could dip out now? I know a good place for burgers, and I figure we’ve seen the show plenty of times now— I mean, unless if you’d still like to watch, that’s not a problem,” He’s rambling, and you find it cute, so you reach out a hand to press to his arm and thank him for your jacket.

And you feel bad, glancing over your shoulder as you hear the crowd screaming upon the band's entrance, but you figure James is right— you have seen the show plenty of times, so one night off won’t hurt, will it? And besides, it’s not the big finale yet, so you’re not really missing anything.

You nod as you slip on your jacket, “Yeah, let’s go; I’m in the mood for a good meal anyway.”

James’ universe is fun and bright and spontaneous, all things he is. It’s something you find yourself admiring as you watch him jump from game to game at the arcade he dragged you to after dinner.

You were both full and satisfied from heavy burgers and fries, and James decided you both needed a way to shake off the food coma; and, as James said, “What better way to wake up than lose money in a bunch of rigged games?”

You start strong with a winning streak in Mortal Kombat, Daytona USA, and Star Wars, but you eventually lose your stretch when James crushes you in Dance Dance Revolution. You made him go a second time, but you still lost, and James called your frown cute, and it made your stomach twist because— fuck, this is a date. You aren’t here as just friends.

You make your way around the arcade until you both decide to call it a night and wrap it up with a few rounds of Pac-Man. It’s chillier in the city tonight, so James takes it upon himself to haul over a taxi to take you both to the hotel.

It’s nearing midnight when you and James walk into the hotel lobby, well past the ending of the show, and you’re holding your breath all the way to the elevator, silence taking over when the doors shut. And tonight was fun and lighthearted, and you’d hate to end it on a dull note.

You should just rip the bandaid off. Do it quick and get it over with so you don’t mislead James, because god, he’s such a good guy, and you’re just… you’re all confused with yourself and— fuck, James is looking at you, just do it.

“I think we should just stay friends.” You rush out.

If James is surprised, you wouldn’t be able to tell by a long shot because he’s simply shoving a hand in his pockets and shrugging, “Yeah, I kind of figured when you avoided holding my hand.” He scratches at his neck, and you fail to hold back the sympathetic twist on your face, “I had a really great time, I did, but I just can’t do anything serious right now…” You shyly explain, and James nods his head.

It falls awkwardly silent, and you curse Richie for booking the entire crew near the top of the building because the floor numbers seem to change slower than the seasons. James breaks the silence just four floors away from your destination, “It’s Eddie, isn’t it?”

You freeze at that, head snapping to look at James in shock, “I— what?”

James shrugs for the second time and turns to the doors, “I kind of clocked it as soon as you joined; you two have some weird thing going on.” He halfheartedly teases, and you feel your body heating up because if James can notice it, then who else has noticed it? God, this is more of a mess than you thought.

“Nothing is going on there,” you lie, “Not sure if you’ve noticed, but Eddie hates my guts, so.” You jokingly shrug. James laughs to ease the tension, only glancing back at you when you slow to a stop and the doors open, ���I had a fun night, too, by the way. No hard feelings.” And with a wink, he wanders off to his room, and you’re left stepping out into the hallway. When you turn the corner, you find yourself wishing the floor would open up and swallow you whole because right outside of your door stands Eddie Munson.

He watches you walk down the empty hall until you stand before him. He’s leaning a shoulder against your doorframe, one hand tucked in his pocket as the other works his cigarette back and forth from his lips. He’s in his usual all-black attire, and his eyes are dark beneath the smudged eyeliner and eyeshadow from the show. And it seems as if he got off the stage and came straight here, seeing as his hair is still slightly damp with sweat and the chains on his neck stick to his chest.

He speaks around a cloud of smoke, dark hooded eyes peering down at you with a gaze so sharp you almost cower, “Where were you?”

Jesus Christ, the audacity of this man.

Your initial thought is to snap back at him and ridicule him for being an asshole— and what’s his deal with always coming to your room? But then you remember you walked out on him when he’d asked you to stay for the first few songs.

“I’m sorry, Eddie, I—” “You went on a date.”

You freeze at that, blinking up at him as your face twists in confusion, “How do you know that?”

“Because where else would you be?” He counters.

“Maybe I got sick.” You argue, and Eddie raises an eyebrow, eyes dancing over your figure, “You don’t look sick.” He points out.

Your eyebrows pinch in frustration as Eddie takes another hit of his cigarette, “What do you want? I already said I’m sorry— which is much more than you’ve ever done, by the way.” 

“I said sorry.” Eddie snaps. Eddie snuffs out his cigarette in the large plant next to the door as you scoff, turning to angrily shove your keycard into the door, “What, that shitty apology in the garden alleyway? You call that an apology? How fucking dense are you?” You open the door, moving to step in until Eddie’s fingers wrap around your arm, turning you back to him, “I said sorry. An actual apology, I did it, and you weren’t fucking there to hear it.” He seethes.

And woah, what the fuck does that mean? You weren’t there to hear it? What does he mean?

You blink, head shaking in confusion as you gaze up at Eddie, brows furrowed, eyes searching for an answer as you ask, “What do you mean?”

Eddie’s eyes are so beautiful, with swirling pools of forest ground and the tiniest specks of honey, and you believe somewhere within his eyes lives a fairy that gives him that ability to pull you in every time. He’s a hypnosis of a human, and it’s dangerous the way you can’t seem to fight through it.

Your eyes flutter shut when Eddie leans close enough to graze his lips over yours, and your heart races in anticipation of a kiss, but you can physically feel Eddie holding himself back.

“Eddie,” you lowly say, “What do you mean?”

Eddie turns his head to where his lips kiss the skin of your cheek, breath tickling the warm skin and sending shivers down your spine. He lets out a shaky breath, squeezing his eyes tight and muttering a curse under his breath as your hands slink up his chest to curl into the fabric of his shirt. The soft, curly strands of Eddie’s hair dance across your lips, and you want to scream because every inhale and exhale of your lungs is full of nothing but Eddie.

His name prances across your tongue once more, and Eddie cracks.

Eddie cracks wide open; one last hit of your hammer, and he’s putty in your hands, mouthing at you as if his life depended on it, devouring you and breathing you and pushing you until you have nowhere to go but inside your room.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie mumbles against your lips. “I’m sorry… let me make it up to you.”

You’re breathless and dizzy from lack of air, and Eddie is pushing you back onto the hotel bed, “I— what?”

Eddie’s fingers slip under your top, cool fingers pressing into your warm skin and causing your breath to hitch against his lips, “Let me make you feel good.” Eddie whispers against your lips.

And fuck, this is insane. 

This is insane.

Just a few hours ago, you would’ve shoved Eddie away from you and told him to eat shit, but for some reason, with the way Eddie’s touching you and talking so gently, you find your body melting into his touch as you nod your head. “Yes?” Eddie seems like he doesn’t believe it, and your stomach twists as you clench your thighs together, nodding once more, “Yes.” You confirm.

Eddie kisses you once again, hastily and eagerly, as his hands push your top further up your torso. Your muscles tense and twitch beneath Eddie’s calloused fingers, and Eddie hums against the softness of your mouth, panting against your lips as he repeats, “Gonna make you feel good. Make up for what I did.”

You breathlessly laugh, “S’gonna take a lot more than this, Munson.” 

And although you were slightly serious with that comment, you suppose Eddie takes it as more of a challenge as he shoves your top entirely over your chest, pulling away to tug the shirt off of you and toss it to the side.

Eddie surges forward to press sloppy kisses against the uncovered skin of your chest, sucking tiny little marks as he moves further down your body, pressing a hand to your chest to push you down into the bed when he reaches the waistband of your skirt.

It’s a black denim skirt, and Eddie takes a moment to admire how they hug your thighs perfectly— and he can’t seem to bring himself to remove it from your waist, so he pushes the skirt up around your hips instead. Your heart is racing, and you can’t help the heat that rises to your cheeks as you attempt to close your thighs, but Eddie places his palms flat against the warm insides of them.

“Don’t tell me you’re getting shy on me already. I haven’t even taken off these cute little panties of yours.” Eddie presses a thumb to your cotton-covered clit, dragging the pad of his thumb down your slit and pressing into the damp spot. Your breath hitches, sparks flying throughout your body, and Eddie smiles. You whine, “I thought you were apologizing.” You frown.

Eddie hums, leaning forward to press a kiss right where your thigh meets the fold of your pussy. You squirm, and Eddie snickers, “I am.” He responds.

You sit up to lean on your elbows, glaring down at him between your thighs as you speak, “You’re not. You’re just teasing me.” You point out.

Eddie doesn’t respond as he hooks his fingers into the band of your panties, drags them down your legs, and drops them to the side, gaze flickering up to yours as you clench your thighs together. Eddie holds your gaze as he wraps his arms around your thighs, hooking his hands into the dip of your waist and tugging you to the edge of the bed. Your center throbs in anticipation as Eddie sinks to his knees on the carpet floor, dark eyes still locked onto yours as he fits his upper body between your thighs.

And Eddie doesn’t even bother looking between your thighs when he dips his head in and begins devouring you.

Eddie, you find, eats pussy like he has all the time in the world.

He’s sloppy with it, lapping at your center and suckling your clit until you’re a whiney mess beneath him. His fingers curl into the denim skirt that’s bunched around your hips, and his rings tauntingly wink up at you under the light as he clenches his fist against the material, tugging you closer to him so he can thrust his tongue further into you.

While Eddie is busy tasting you, you scramble to reach behind your back and unhook your bra. Between your thighs, Eddie watches as you toss the garment off to the side before cupping your tits in your hands and rolling your nipple between your middle and forefingers. Eddie moans against you, burying his face deeper into you and suckling enough to have you crying out in pleasure.

Eddie pulls back for a moment, sticky strings of his saliva and your arousal dripping from his lips as he removes one hand from your waist to sink two fingers into your cunt. You pant out his name, your face twisting in pleasure when he curls his fingers up against your walls. Your eyes are screwed shut so you don’t see Eddie leaning forward to purse his lips together and let a drop of saliva drip over your pussy and sinfully coat your clit. He’s quick to attach his mouth to the throbbing bundle of nerves, and you reach out a hand to thread your fingers through his hair, knuckles curling at the root to drag an animalistic growl from Eddie.

Eddie is one of the best, if not the best, head you’ve ever received. By the time you begin teetering over the edge, your thighs are twitching and tensing as if you’ve already come undone, and your chest is heaving beneath Eddie’s fingers as he toys with your tits.

When you cum, Eddie becomes greedier than he’d been before, licking and slurping up every last drop you have to give until you’re twitching away from him and pressing a shaky hand to his shoulder. 

Eddie slinks up your body, sinking his fingers into his mouth to clean off your wetness before you slink an arm around his shoulders and pull him down to kiss you. Eddie’s fingers are wet as they cup the left side of your face, and the feeling of something wet on your face would usually have you cringing in distaste, but you only moan and press yourself further into Eddie.

You mumble for him to take his shirt off, and Eddie follows swiftly, too eager to go back to kissing you. He shivers when your hands meet his bare chest, fingertips exploring the vast expanse of untold stories in ink, hard yet plush muscles of his arms flexing beneath your touch. 

“I wasn’t done saying sorry.” Eddie pants against your lips, and you breathily laugh, “You can finish some other time; I want to feel you now.” You respond, busying your hands with trailing down his lower stomach, sinking past the waistband of his leather pants.

Eddie kisses his way down your neck to begin sucking pretty bruises into the skin, and your core clenches when you realize Eddie is wearing nothing beneath the leather pants— and you try hard not to imagine how he’s probably been pressed up against the rough fabric, achy tip undeniably receiving pleasure from the sinful ways he uses his hips when he’s on stage. 

Your shock doesn’t end there, however, because when you sink lower to wrap your hand around his cock, your body goes still at the feeling beneath your fingertips. Against the fiery skin of your cheek, you feel Eddie’s lips stretch into a smile and your heart races.

“What’s the matter, princess? Find something you like, hm?” Eddie can’t help the way his voice shakes near the end because you're giving his cock an experimental squeeze and running a finger over the sudden surprise.

You smile as you speak, “Is that a piercing?”

Eddie hums, turning his head, nose smashing against the side of yours as he presses a kiss to the side of your mouth, “Maybe..” He teasingly confirms.

And god, you might pass out.

Eddie’s dick is pierced. You’re not sure what more you’d expect from a rockstar, but you’re still shocked and ushering him to remove the annoying restriction of his pants.

When Eddie finally gets rid of his leather pants, you’ve shifted to sit on your knees in the middle of the bed, and Eddie stalks over to the edge of the bed, beckoning you over.

You don’t waste time crawling over to him, eyes stuck on the pretty sight before you. And sure, it’s not the first time you’ve seen a pierced dick (you’ve spent too much time working with rockstars), but it sure as hell is the first time you’ll be fucking one— not to mention his cock is perfect. It’s shaped and cut to perfection, something you’d expect from a pornstar, but Eddie is not a pornstar, and god, the sight of the metal barbell nestled right beneath the pink tip on the underside of his cock— it’s dizzying to see.

You peer up at Eddie, wrapping a hand around his cock and stroking him once, chest fluttering when he fails to hold back a moan. “It’s really pretty, Eddie.” You softly say, and Eddie sheepishly and breathlessly laughs as you squeeze at his tip. “Want you to fuck me with it.”

Eddie groans, muttering a curse as he leans forward to press his lips against yours, pushing you until you’re crawling back up the bed to lay beneath him.

“I’ve never been with someone with a piercing…” You admit, and Eddie smiles at you, and your stomach twists when he reaches down to gently guide your movement up and down the length of his cock.

“Really? You’ve never fucked a pierced cock before?” He manages to say through his pleasure. Your teeth dig into the inside of your cheek as you shake your head no, and Eddie snickers when you ask, “Have you?”

His lips quirk into a smile, “Honey, you think I got the piercing done without a test run on how it feels?” He jokes.

You snort at that, and Eddie beams at you. You swipe your thumb over his leaking tip, and Eddie curses, watching as you mindlessly bring the glistening pad of your finger up to your tongue and hum. 

“How’s it taste, sweetheart?” Eddie teases, and you hum as you respond, “Good. So good, wish I could taste more—” “No, no, no.” Eddie cuts you off with a shake of his head, reaching down to wrap a fist around himself.

“This isn’t about me. Plus, I’m losing my patience right now; I’ve been thinking about this since I fucking met you.” He presses himself flat against your pussy, and you gasp, fingers digging into his shoulders as he rolls his hips to slide himself up and down your wet cunt, the cool metal of the piercing catching onto your clit and sending shivers up your spine.

His gaze falls between your thighs to watch as your slick centers meet, cursing at the way your wet folds part around each drag of his cock. “You have such a pretty pussy, princess, fuck.” He rasps.

Your mind is spinning with the roll of Eddie’s hips, his dirty compliment, and his admission that he’s thought of fucking you before. You don���t dare to tell him you’ve thought of it too or that you’ve gotten off to the thought of it. You don’t even have to think about it because the tip of Eddie’s cock is catching the slickness of your entrance, and you’re gasping, body jerking in pleasure. Your lips accidentally smear against Eddie’s shoulder, and he hums, tilting his head and dipping to catch your lips in a sloppy kiss.

As he distracts you with his mouth, he slowly presses into you, and you lose your ability to keep up with Eddie’s lips because holy fuck— Eddie is bigger than you thought. Sure, you got a good look at him when he removed his pants to show you his surprise, but your mind must’ve been too muddled with lust to clock the size of him.

You can feel everything as he sinks into you, every vein running up the sides, and the mind-numbing sensation of the barbell as he presses into you. “Holy shit,” you breathlessly whisper against the skin of his shoulder, legs tightening around his waist as the burning yet toe-curling feeling settles in. Eddie snickers above you, “That good?”

You’re coherent enough to snap back at his cockiness, “No.”

Eddie laughs, and you want to make a snippy comeback, but it gets lost on your tongue when Eddie gives his hips one experimental roll.

Eddie is pathetically close to cumming.

Eddie’s cock has only been nestled within your warm, wet, pulsing walls for barely two minutes, and he’s about to blow like he’s a goddamn teenager— and it doesn’t help how heavenly you sound and look writhing beneath him.

Eddie’s not sure where to look; your face, your tits, or the hypnotizing sight of your cunt sucking him in over and over with each thrust he gives you. “Fuck,” he curses, “You’re taking me so well, princess.” He leans in the nose at your cheek before licking at the curve of your jaw, shivering at the wet moan you pant into his ear.

“Been hiding this pretty pussy from me?” Eddie hums, sucking a delicate bruise right below your ear. And god, Eddie could spend forever like this, drilling into you and marking you everywhere and pulling these pretty sounds from you. Eddie’s so close, oh god.

You mewl at his words, hips squirming as Eddie snaps his hips into you, “No,” you whine, “You’ve been mean to me.” And Eddie thinks you’re awfully cute when you’re blissed out and pouting. And your eyes are glossy, lips slick with spit and swollen from kissing.

Eddie wishes he had a photographic memory because he doesn’t want to forget a single detail of this moment. Eddie has one hand clutching the sheets beside your head as he lets the other hand coast up your side to land on your chest, thumb brushing over your nipple to pull a moan from you. “I know,” Eddie lowly replies, “I’m sorry, princess.” He kisses your chin, and you clench around him.

Eddie’s fist clenches around the sheet, fighting to hold himself back as he presses deep into you and stills, cock twitching within your walls. “Gonna let me show you how sorry I am?” He asks.

You're hazy and cockdrunk, and Eddie can’t wait to unpack the fact that you go braindead when you’re fucked good. Eddie nudges himself into you, although he’s pressed all the way into your cunt, and you whimper before eagerly nodding.

“Yeah?” Eddie teases. You nod again, fingers digging into Eddie’s arm as you speak, “Yes, Eddie— fuck. Yeah, show me, please.”

Eddie almost loses it.

It’s slightly scary how much Eddie likes this, how much he’s enjoying this— the feeling of you beneath him, the wetness, the heat, the sweat-sticky touches, and the sloppy smattering of kisses. God, Eddie’s in love with it.

The short five-second break Eddie managed to pull from questioning (teasing) you was enough for him to get ahold of himself. Eddie sits up and grasps the back of your knee, hauling your leg over his shoulder to get a better angle at fucking you, and you gasp when his cock rubs against your spot.

Eddie doesn’t waste time once he gets the position situated. He leaves one hand splayed beside your head to hold him up as the other hand grips the warm flesh of your thigh before resuming his thrusting, this time at a deeper and quicker pace.

The sound of skin meeting and the wet sloshing noise of sex echoes through the room amongst the mix of moans and sultry-soaked remarks. Eddie doesn’t notice his hand slipping from your thigh and slinking up to wrap around your neck, but he hesitates when you whimper. He almost removes his hand, but you wrap a shaky hand around his wrist and nod— and fuck, Eddie will never be the same man after this.

Eddie can feel the heat and the pulse of your heart as his fingers tighten around your neck. Your moans are becoming more and more frequent and higher in pitch, and Eddie can feel the way you’re fluttering around him more sporadically, and he can’t wait to feel it when you cum.

Eddie leans over you, lips brushing your parted ones as he encourages you to let go, “Come on, let me feel it. I’m not leaving until you soak my cock, princess.”

Your body is on fire.

It’s almost alarming how easily and well Eddie has unraveled you. His presence is nearly overwhelming with the way he’s hovering so close over you, but you love it— the tickle of his long curls on your shoulders and chest, the intoxicating smell of him, the dizzying hold he has around your neck— you preen for it.

You’re so close when Eddie tells you to cum, and you barely have enough time to prepare for the earth-shattering orgasm that ripples through you the second Eddie presses a thumb to your aching clit and rubs tight circles against it.

Your body tenses, and your moans crack upon the surface as you melt into him until you’re nothing but a quivering mess. Eddie talks you through it, tells you how pretty you sound and how good you feel wrapped around him. Your orgasm had hit you so hard that you barely registered the broken moan that came from Eddie before he pushed deep into you and emptied every last drop of himself into your pulsing heat.

Eddie curses, his cock pulsing within you, and you let out an exhausted yet satisfied sigh when he rolls his hips into you once more. You’re both silent for a long moment as you come back down to earth, Eddie’s forehead pressed against your shoulder as you subconsciously let your hand run up the side of his torso.

Eddie shifts to turn his head to where he can slightly see your face as he still hides against your shoulder, “Apology accepted?”

Saturday morning, the next day, you wake up and want to bury yourself under the hotel sheets.

Last night was… interesting, to say the least. It was good— mind-blowing— but you still have that lingering feeling in your chest that maybe you and Eddie shouldn’t have slept together. Maybe you let him in too quickly. Maybe it was all a lie, Eddie’s ‘apology’. All the gentle caresses and the passion-filled kisses with the heart flutter words. Maybe it was all for show, just to get you to let your walls down so he could have at you.

Eddie didn’t spend the night with you.

In fact, Eddie practically ran out the door after your extremities were over, and you were left with the aftermath of spinning thoughts and an aching chest. So much for sorry.

The dining room is buzzing with chatter and laughter of excitement— today is the last off day before the final show of the residency— but you’re too in your head to join in on the conversation because Eddie won’t even look at you.

Your throat feels tight, and you spend the majority of breakfast just pushing your food around the plate, and you manage to pull a smile and nod your head when Naomi asks if you’re okay. But fuck, you want to scream.

You should’ve never believed Eddie when he told you he’d change or when he practically spent the entire night worshipping your body and begging for your forgiveness. Eddie didn’t want forgiveness. He just wanted to fuck you, and you should’ve known that from the second he kissed you.

But Eddie’s kisses can tell a hell of a lie, and damn you for falling for them.

You’re spooked when you feel a hand rest on your shoulder, pulling you from your thoughts. It’s Richie, and he peers down at you and gives you a tight-lipped smile as he leans in and lowly speaks, “Can I speak with you outside?”

You nod, dropping your fork onto your plate and quietly rising from your chair. And for the first time today, Eddie looks at you. Your chest tightens, and you think it’s stupid that you’d been upset about this because it’s Eddie for fucks sake. He’s a rockstar, and he surely never made the mistake of presenting himself as if he was anything other than a man who fucks whoever they want and moves on the next day. Eddie’s jaw ticks, he looks away, and you bite your tongue as anger floods your body.

You ignore it as you turn around and follow Richie into the hallway.

You’re hardly paying attention when you both step out of the room, but the slamming of the door is the cue for Richie to start speaking. “Listen, Birdie,” he begins, “You know I adore you. I’m always in your corner, no matter what… But I have to put my boys first.”

It’s concerning, the way Richie is beginning this conversation, and it’s even worse when he can’t seem to look you in the eye for more than five seconds at a time. Your heart rate picks up, and you begin to think maybe…

No, Richie can’t know. There’s no way he’d know, right? Unless if someone told him. One of the band members, or James, or— fuck, there’s too many people that know at this rate. But you didn’t think it would reach Richie.

No, you’re just spinning out. Richie doesn’t know, and this is about something else; it has to be.

You shake your head, brows furrowed as you speak, “I’m not sure I understand.”

Richie glances around the corridor and shifts in his spot, scratching at the back of his neck as he speaks, “Listen, I uh,” he glances at you, and your heart drops because you now know why he’s pulled you aside. 

“I know about you and Eddie.”

————

part nine

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a/n: hiiii, you made it to the end !! IM SORRY FOR ANOTHER CLIFFHANGER FRIENDS, i promise there won't be anymore from here on out (i think hehe), BUT I HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS SMUTTY LITTLE PART, thank you for reading, ilysm and i appreciate all and any feedback <3

————

cutie lil taglist: @mastermindmiko @whataboutbibi @ryanmxrie @ihatepeanutss @tlclick73 @motherfckerrr @emxxblog @jesssssmaybankk @eddiesguitarskills @bibieddiesgf @chloe-6123 @micheledawn1975 @demxnicprxncess @emma77645 @sidthedollface2

@daddyhetfield @s-u-t @hereforshmut @mmunson86 @welcometohellsock @lma1986 @birdsinmywalls @animechick555 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @spideydreams00 @lorosette @prestinalove @sirensleepingsoundly @nabiiturner @catherinnn

[literallys-illiteracy]

Project Moon 8'th anniversary stream overview:

Cut for spoilers

God fucking bless this company, "nervous, one minute *clears throat*"

//as per last time, i will have some thoughts on each section which will be elaborated on in a marked subsection of each area, primarily it will be an overview and analysis of the content shown

Note at the start "This may be a long stream".

Revealed timeline.

Year in Review:

(Graph 1, Pictured, Monthly average players this year)

(Graph 2, Pictured: Daily Active Users)

New ID and EGO extraction:

Devyat association Sinclair (seen in a prior teaser) and Asymmetrical Inertia He EGO Heathcliff.

Sinclair 000 ID:

Likely a rupture ID similar to Rodion's Devyat.

This ID appears to use the same Courier system that Rodion used as well, being able to retreat from battle.

Skill 1 appears to be 2 Blunt coins. Skill(s) 2,3, and 4 seem to each be 3 Blunt coins.

Rather than a skill 4 it seems to be just an empowered skill 3 however, without the coin reuse at all.

It will be interesting to see if this ID can stand to beat Talisman Sinclair's bench passive slot.

Heathcliff He EGO:

Likely a tremor EGO due to its seeming relation to the "bell of truth" abnormality named Clockwork-Time Roly Poly in Mirror Dungeon.

Both the corrosion and awakening appear to be blunt damage EGO with either 1 or 2 coins, however there is a chance for a coin reuse system on the awakening due to the repeated animation before the final strike.

If this EGO is in line with the Roly-Poly, it will likely relate to fragile somehow, and may introduce a new tremor type, or reintroduce Tremor-Fracture to relate its Fragility concept.

Mirror Dungeon 5: Mirror of the Dreaming:

It is noted that this Mirror Dungeon changes are going to be long in explanation and extensive.

Party revive is noted, alongside "Combat changes" likely to include the new Chain Battle system, and abnormalities/EGO that are designed to use said system such as the Devyat ID and latest Fell Bullet EGO.

New EGO gifts, Choice Events, and Theme Packs. This confirms the return of the mirror dungeon floor pack system, allowing us to complain about getting the bosses we chose to fight.

The "new choice events" is likely referring to those that appeared in both Canto 7 and RR4, being "Dreaming Electric Sheep (which likely will be the source of Imitative Generator)", Portrait of a Certain Day, King in Binds, 400 Roses, Rose Hunter, and Hurting Teddy Bear.

There are changes to the pack system, allowing us to change between the hard and normal packs in the selection menu as shown, also i checked the EGO gifts shown in the image, they're all ones we've seen before.

Within Hard mirror dungeons, you have a selection choice between 4 EGO gifts, and the ability to select 2 of them, alongside both their associated Mounting Trials

In this hard pack, a "special shop" is able to spawn.

Within normal difficulty dungeons, the final floor is moved to the 5th rather than the 4th as is current, similar to how current Hard dungeons work.

Shops and rest stops are now one in the same it appears (once again, no new EGO gifts shown).

The aforementioned "Special Shop" that appears within hard packs.

This allows to swap out more skills, it will contain more EGO gifts, and will be able to fuze up to 5 EGO gifts together at once, which likely is due to the increased number of gifts that will be received specifically at floor end.

Duplicates of EGO gifts, they do not apply stacking bonuses, but rather are able to be fused.

When revived, sinners will have their SP set to zero, however all other sinner's SP will remain the same on floor start.

More abnormality battles will be present, and upon winning battles against said abnormalities (boss fight abnormalities encountered in elite or normal encounters), one will receive the EGO gifts related to the abnormality, as if they completed the fight through an encounter.

Hard mode fog of war changes, allowing you to see 2 nodes ahead rather than the current one.

EGO gifts are planned, for the aforementioned abnormalities most likely, and several that are unrelated or completely new.

In both images, fusion "tree's" are mentioned, with fusion gifts that are able to be fused (currently impossible as tier 4 gifts may not be fused), where new and weaker EGO fusions are added, which may be fused into double fusion, or fusion^2 EGO gifts.

Next Week, 28th of November.

5th of December.

some point this season, we will be able to gain achievements, and challenge the dungeon past floor 5 without the rewards, as an added Roguelike challenge mode.

Monthly ID rotation, reoccurring missions, and Quality of Life UI improvements such as a clear timer.

There are plans to release this in stages, as:

which is the reasoning behind the weekly additions that are listed above, which allows for Consistent quality assurance and constant content rather than a large release and a dead period.

Seasonal ID:

The Manager of La ManchaLand Don Quixote:

actively making use of the bloodfeast keyword, akin to the other bloodfiend ID's

This ID's kit will vary depending on the present allies, specifically changing when other La Mancha Land ID's are present.

Specifically, skill 1 is the Priest, skill 2 the Barber, and Defence skill The Princess.

This ID's skills will be adaptive to multiple situations alongside their defensive skill,.

The defence skill was not shown, however, i believe that this ID's skills will be Slash, Slash, and Pierce respectively.

Wealth and Fame:

"We will need to increase our revenue to make the following a reality: add more enjoyable functions and high fidelity cutscenes; To Begin Production on a new game; or to release animations (Advertisements, previews, Short episodes, full length movies, and/or anime)

Sinner Target Extraction Changes:

Sinner Target extractions will now feature event extraction ID's and EGO from the preceding season, not including those obtained through the event itself such as Chef Gregor, or Multicrack Heathcliff.

In the future, target extractions may have association or syndicate themes, such as a blade lineage themed extraction

Returning Intervallo's with Voices:

Most intervallo in the game are unvoiced, this was due to the ease in creation and flexibility that it allowed them to create and release, with less strain caused by alterations and adjustments within the dialogue.

Adding voices to these intervallo in post is fareaser as the dialogue is already set in stone, which means that there is no worry of future alterations.

These intervallo will be returning with higher level in a "hard mode", each featuring 2 EGO relating to the intervallo's theme.

Why EGO? the sinners tend to receive id's of increasingly powerful characters and LCB's story progresses, releasing ID's for intervallo returns means that they may be, story and lore wise, held back by the strengths of the characters present in past intervallo. However, EGO are free from these concerns, which makes us believe that they are a better choice for the intervallo returns. This does not rule out the release of ID for intervallo reruns, if there is a valid inspiration an ID may be released, however it will primarally be EGO. When an intervallo is voiced, characters will be featured as paid announcers such as the Gnomes, Jun, and Aeng Du.

(Paraphrased) (quoted because Tumblr decided i couldn't have images)

Announcers will be extractable from Ideality (yisang) and from standard extractions, {green marker}: More Money For Anime

Ideally they will also be adding voice acting to the mini episodes between both intervallo and canto's.

5th Walpurgisnacht:

Library of Ruina theme.

2 Full Stop Office Fixers, Hong Lou Liwei and Gregor Stephan (or so appears).

Der Freischütz EGO, sinner unknown, likely Heathcliff due to his being the only Sinner yet to receive a Walpurgisnacht release, and his lack of inclusion in the aforementioned ID.

Intervallo 7.5 1:

Regular Check Up:

episode about health checkups for sunners, specifically their mental corrosion and distortions(?).

This will take place in T Corp.

Refraction Railway Line 5, The Merry Go Round:

As of now there are no definitive gimmicks for this event, however it will cycle similar to RR2.

Yield My Flesh to Claim Their Bones Rerun:

Intervallo 2: Nocturnal Sweeping:

Ill give you two guesses what SWEEPING is going to be about, especially a NIGHT in the BACKSTREETS

Canto 8: The Surrendered Witnessing:

Hong Lou Canto.

Ill let @lu-is-not-ok pick this apart, as they are far better at Hong Lou analysis than i am, as it has been aeons since i read Hong Lou Meng and i don't plan to re-read it any time soon.

Mili Asia concert tour:

this year was delayed due to Cassie's delivery, the current goal is for the concert to be held during the 9th anniversary sometime around the 18th of November 2025.

live tickets will be sold separately for Korea and Japan.

Concert will only feature Mili songs from the Project Moon games.

Starting in Korea, and ending in Japan.

Collaboration:

(Slow, manual movement of powerpoint to the centre of screen while the vtuber model dissapears)

Arknights Collaboration video plays.

(re aligning of the presentation while talking)

"We were invited into Hypergryph headquarters, exchanged merchandise of our games and had a fruitful discussion"

KJH's signed Lappland poster.

4 sinners will be receiving crossover content.

Though it is too early for a full on reveal, the sinners who are getting said EGO have been revealed.

Faust, Hong Lou, Ishmael and Gregor.

We do not currently know who each sinner will be paired with for this collaboration, however if i were to wager it would be Kal'tsit for Faust, and potentially texas for Ishmael (they're both stoic lesbians i think it works).

Reimagined outfits and combat skills will be used as inspiration for the EGO skills. Why EGO skills? see above rendition of this same question. ID's are representative of the power that a certain character may hold, which would alter perceptions of the ID.

One (1) operator from arknights will be featured as a (presumably Paid (more money for the anime)) announcer for the game

Long Term R&D Goals:

ID Skin functionality: Akin to layered armour, using growth materials (shards n threads) to use one ID's animations and moveset layered on top of another's.

EG. Barber Outis appearing as Magic Bullet, and that (the Yi Sang) is a skin and not an ID being San from the Streetlight Office in Library of Ruina, which is not going to be released as an ID, but only a visual.

They are learning how to monetise this game it seems.

However, this is a long term goal, as each ID has different cinematics, effects, and coin counts on each skill, such as altered effects due to charge.

HHPP Store expansion:

Enhance Immersion by making use of panoramic projection.

the physical store is being expanded, separated into different areas, the cafe, a Ruina themed section, followed by a section representing each Canto of Limbus Company.

2024 AGF (anime games festival):

merchandise being sold:

ID acrylic cards

Limbus Company zip-up Hoodie and attachable patches. note that these hoodies are the same in design as to those worn by the sinners in the Intervallo 1 teaser Image.

Employee ID card and casing. Employee cards for each sinner excluding dante.

W corp Cap (like the ones worn by the ID's, Outis, Don, Faust, Meur, Etc.)

2025 EGO callender.

Paper bag

EGO can badges, including: Sunshower Yi sang, Everlasting Faust, Lesbian Don Quixote, "Contempt, Awe" Ryoshu, Yearning-Mircalla Meursault, Cavernous Wailing Hong Lou, Fell Bullet Heathcliff, Blind Obsession Ishmael, Hex Nail Rodion and Sinclair, Sunshower Outis, and Solemn Lament Gregor.

The Director will have an autograph signing at saturday and sunday from 4-6pm.

HHPP Popup Cafe:

In Busan there will be a popup cafe of HHPP selling several popular dishes.

There are currently conversations being had with other pop up retail booths and locations, namely PAX west 2025.

The merchandise sold at the AGF will later be sold at the popup cafe's, and then later at the main HHPP itself.

In Game rewards:

*director clears his breath*

1300 Lunacy and a 10 pull dextraction ticket.

Thanks You for watching.

Also Thank you for reading this~

[bookscandlesnbts]

The Boyfriend Shot

Here is the Boyfriend Shot that is the subject of this post. I found this moment not only really cute but also really telling because Jimin could have elaborated on this “Boyfriend Shot” in 100 different directions if he wanted to, but he chose to leave it plain and simple. This is the Boyfriend Shot of Jungkook where the subject of “Who” (see what I did there 😉? I’m not clever okay, but I tried) is the photographer himself.

See, Jimin could have swooned that JK was Army’s boyfriend saying that he took it for Army and made it about the fandom. Or he could have implied it going in a hetero direction except he didn’t. He took the photo while sitting across from his boyfriend that he was on a trip with for himself because he definitely saved that photo on his phone. Jimin was boasting here. Peacocking. Saying this is my boyfriend I took the boyfriend shot. He’s with me and he’s my boyfriend so that’s what this photo is. And I love it. Jimin isn’t a big gesture guy as we usually know. One of the things I’ve loved about AYS is the moments where he is. Where he lets his guard down. Where he tells us things.

Similarly, reminds me of Jimin lying on the floor spread eagle saying that if you watch this show with Jungkook this is exactly how he is at home. That’s the key here folks. He deliberately says with Jungkook. He could have just played it off that he likes to lie around at home anywhere and everywhere but he needed to be clear and remind us that this is really how he acts at home because Jungkook is there too. And I’m not saying that they definitely live together but I am saying that he considers Jungkook part of his home.

Main takeaway is that I love seeing Jimin spill the tea. I love it when he tells us things and lets us in because he definitely is more guarded. I mean he wouldn’t even tell us his whiskey story on the show. 😅 but Jimin is a storyteller when he wants to be, and I loved seeing glimpses of those honest truths on the show. The last episode of Sapporo was my favorite episode of the Sapporo trip by far and I’ve already watched it three times.

Lastly, if anyone is curious, my controversial ranking of the episodes:

2>4>8>1>5>7>6>3

Can’t wait for the behinds!!! I was also thinking that remember when we kept seeing the behinds of each location decrease by a minute during their reviews? I don’t think they actually did! And maybe that’s why it went behind a paywall. I’m thrilled they are behind a paywall even if nothing too crazy happens. I wish more than anything we could gatekeep it from vile people. I really think JK knows about *them* ya’ll. I really do 🤫

[hornyfor-redacted-onmain]

May The Odds Be Ever In Your Favor

Pieces of My Heart - Chapter 1 Stray Kids OT8 x reader, Soulmate AU

Masterlist | Next Chapter

When you first arrived in the city, it was in the middle of the night. The sights had blurred around you, your dinner had felt tasteless, the forced smiles to the hotel staff and strangers you boarded the elevator with making your cheeks ache. You wanted nothing more than to just crash in your bed and go to sleep, which was exactly what you did.

In contrast, the second day felt like waking up in a movie.

You would have contributed your good mood to the concert, but it wasn’t until tomorrow. There was just something about the air around you as you got up and got ready, the way that the city sounds you’re your open window made you smile instead of feeling irritated like it had last night, or the way you’re your smile to the strangers in the elevator felt a lot less forced. Maybe it was the anticipation of being in a city you had never been in before, the new sights that you hadn’t been able to appreciate the night before.

There was an extra skip in your step as you made your way out into the streets.

Your first stop was to a café you had googled the day before that was only a 15-minute walk from your hotel. It had great reviews and offered your favorite treats, so you wanted to get something to eat before you decided to visit some of the city’s landmarks.

The café wasn’t particularly full when you arrived, only 3 people in the line in front of you, but somehow the small chatter and the colorful menu managed to distract you until there was only 1 person still in front of you.

It was only then that you realized the red string that disappeared through their chest. And your heart skipped a beat.

For as long as you could remember, the floor around you was littered with red strings. When you were younger, your mother explained to you what a soulmate was, explained the stories and myths behind it, tried to explain the science behind it, but the thing that grabbed your attention the most was how insistent she was that you never tell anyone how many strings you had.

8 strings.

“Not everyone has a red string”, you remembered her telling you. “Some people have words, the first words their soulmates will say to them. Some are lucky, they have names. Some people don’t know what their soul bond is until they meet their soulmates, some never get any at all.”

“But I got 8,” You had exclaimed proudly with a smile, the excitement of having 8 people to love all you could think about. You were too young to consider the ramifications of having so many soulmates. The constant harassment you would endure, the words people would whisper behind your back.

Most people got 1 soulmate. Some were lucky, and they got 2 or 3. Not all soulmates were romantic, some platonic or even familial, but since the vast majority ended in a romantic relationship, the idea of multiple soulmates was frowned upon.

You had learned from a very young age to ignore the strings that followed you around.

But this one was impossible to ignore.

The man in front of you shifted, enough that the string followed his movement. It was leading directly to him, not just passing through. You had deduced a long time ago that your soulmates lived very far away, since their strings rarely changed directions. You had never seen it this high, never seen it move so easily, and there was no doubt in your mind that your soulmate was directly in front of you.

Your brain froze.

“Thank You! Next?”

The barista’s voice snapped you out of your stupor, and you snapped your head to the side to follow the string (and your soulmate) as it moved to the seating area of the café. You forced yourself to look away, your heart still beating hard, and impulsively ordered the first thing on the menu. You gave them your name and stumbled to an open table near the café windows, on the other side of the store from where your soulmate now sat, scrolling through his phone.

‘Talk to him’ a voice in your head screamed at you.

‘What do I even say to him?’ the logical side argued. ‘What if he had the first words soulbond? You don’t want your first words to him to be something stupid’.

The other voice grumbled in agreement, and you struggled to think of something to say. Something flirty, maybe? Or something sweet, reassuring, so you knew they grew up with kind words on them. What if they didn’t even have a first words soulbond at all? They couldn’t have an indicator type bond, otherwise they would have noticed you by now.

And like a flip had been switched, you were suddenly very aware of the other 7 strings that sprouted from your chest, and the movement that came from them. Two of them were behind you, swaying slightly as if affected by a small breeze, and the other 5 were at eye level, disappearing into the distance through the café windows, out into the city.

Not just into the distance. Up above.

All of your soulmates were here close by, possibly even in the very same city as you. The thought made your already nervous heart nearly burst out of our chest. You nearly jumped out of your seat when the barista called out your name, and you rushed to the front to grab your drink only to realize that your soulmate was no longer in the last place you had seen him.

You turned in your spot, eyes darting around frantically, and you spotted his blue jacket just as the café doors closed behind him. Through the windows, you watched him make his way to the left.

Moving so fast that your hot drink splashed against your fingers, you stumbled out of the café behind him, eyes trying their hardest to keep sight of his retreating back as it blended into the crowds.

“W-wait!” You shouted. A few people around you stopped to look, but not your soulmate.

You were running now, panicked at the idea of losing sight of your soulmate, the person that destiny had created to match with you on every level, the person you had dreamed of meeting your entire life. You yelled out again, nothing coherent and certainly not witty or flirtatious or nice, but it was enough to get them to look back.

God, you really hoped they didn’t have those words on them forever.

The man, your soulmate, had his face hidden by a mask, his eyes covered by a hat and yet somehow you could sense the panic that was coming off him in waves by his body language along. It was enough that you suddenly lost your confidence, stumbling to a stop in front of him as you took a deep breath, staring into his wide eyes with your own.

He held his coffee in front of him as if he had been prepared for you to tackle him, his entire body tense.

“You-“

Your voice seemed to get stuck in your throat, and so you took a second to swallow. Your soulmate used that moment of silence to lower his raised arms, his shoulders seemingly relaxing but still holding tension.

“Ah, hello.” He said.

In Korean.

You blanked, your words immediately dying. You started to panic, thinking to yourself ‘shit, he speaks Korean. Does he speak English? How were you going to explain this situation to him now?’ when he continued.

“Oh, do you need … something?”

These words were in English, heavily accented and a little slow, as if he was unsure himself of what he was saying. But it was enough reassurance that even if he didn’t speak English well, he had to know enough to understand what you were about to say.

You really hoped he did.

“You’re my soulmate!”

Both of you stared at each other with equal degrees of shock. Him at your words, and you at your bluntness.

‘God, really hope he doesn’t have first words’.

At his silence, his lack of reaction, you began to have doubts. What if you had been wrong somehow? The string attached to your chest definitely connected to him, but maybe it was a one-sided connection. One sided soulmate bond was extremely rare, but you had 8 soulmates.

Maybe this was simply a mistake.

Your panic must have shown on your face because he suddenly moved, raising his hands in reassurance and babbling something quickly in Korean. You only understood ‘its okay’, watching as his own panic seemed to overcome him as he looked around. You weren’t sure what he was looking for, but as his eyes landed on your own drink, he was suddenly right in front of you, pushing your drink up towards your face.

“Drink,” was all he said, urging you to do exactly that.

At his sudden movement and weird manhandling, you began to pull away from him, confused. “What, wait what the hell man!”

But then he let you go, mimicking with his own drink what he wanted from you. “Drink, please.”

And then it hit you, that he wasn’t just being weird. He wanted you to drink your drink, because he wanted to see if you were actually his soulmate.

It wasn’t unexpected for some people to use a soulmate bond as an excuse to get close to strangers, to take advantage of others, and the fact that you didn’t think about that before suddenly springing this on to a complete stranger made you want to hit yourself in the face.

So, with a nod of understanding, you were quick to down your now cooling drink. It wasn’t bad, not your usual go to choose, but it had a strong after flavor. You grimaced at the sensation, running your tongue over your teeth to get rid of the taste.

And then you were being pulled into a hug.

It was like something inside of you clicked, like a piece of the puzzle being put together. All your worries were gone, all your thoughts empty, the only thing you could feel was peace. The rest of the world just disappeared.

Your weren’t sure how anyone could confuse someone for their soulmate, not with this feeling to confirm.

He pulled back, saying something once again in Korean, and then pulling you back in for another hug. “You are my soulmate! Ah, I’m so glad. I … wait a very long time.”

“I, I’m really glad too,” You whispered, trying hard not to cry at the sudden emotions that overwhelmed you.

You held him just as tightly, breathing in his scent and familiarizing yourself with the way your arms fit perfectly around his shoulders. When you finally pulled away, you were suddenly aware of the fact that the two of you were in the middle of the street, and while it wasn’t odd to see soulmates meeting in public and it was usually common curtesy to give them space, some people were glaring as they walked around the two of you.

Woops.

Your soulmate seemed to realize at the same time, and you weren’t surprised when he grabbed your hand to pull you off to the side. What you did find odd was the sudden panic at he pulled his cap down further, turning away from the crowd and pulling you close so that you were hidden behind him. You tried to look behind him to see what he was hiding from, but he pulled you back in.

“Ah, no. Please. Uh …. Not safe.”

“Huh?”

His eyes narrowed as his nose scrunched up, and he scratched his neck. “I … um. Fuck. I am a … celebrity.” He gave an exaggerated point to his face, waving his finger around the mask specifically, and you nodded in understanding.

Then your brain caught up.

Having a celebrity for a soulmate was definitely unexpected, but you supposed it wasn’t impossible. You had seen a couple of celebrities announce their soulmates were random people, sometimes even fans, but you had never once entertained the idea that you could be one of those people. However, with 8 soulmates, it was bound to happen.

And then your soulmate gave another quick glance around, and he turned back at you with a soft gaze.

His hand reached up to grab his mask, pulling it down just enough for you to see his lips move with his next words.

“My name is Yang Jeongin. It’s nice to meet you.”

You would have found the way he slightly bowed his head in greeting adorable if you weren’t too busy freaking out. He quickly pulled his mask back up and asked you what your name was, but you couldn’t get your mouth to close from where it had dropped. And while he tilted his head to the side in confusion at your silence, he quickly righted himself as he seemed to realize what had happened.

“Ah, are you Stay?”

You could tell he was smiling. Your mouth closed shut so quickly it made an audible snapping noise, and you stuttered out your name. When his smile only seemed to grow, you quickly hid your face behind your hands and let out a groan, not even complaining as Jeongin seemed to laugh.

What were the odds?

“So cute,” he cooed. “My soulmate is Stay. Good.”

You had been saving up for months to afford the plane ticket, the hotel, the concert. The concert you were supposed to go to tomorrow.

“It’s okay. Don’t hide, please. I’m happy!”

Jeongin’s hands covered yours, pulling them away from your face so he could see you clearly. His eyes were so soft, so full of emotions you couldn’t begin to comprehend, and you couldn’t stand to see him, so you buried your face into his shoulder instead. He didn’t complain, pulling you into a hug and letting out a hum in content.

“Finally,” He whispered. He said something else in Korean, but your little knowledge was not enough to translate what he said, and he didn’t repeat it in English, so you weren’t even sure he was talking to you.

What were the odds that you would meet your soulmate the day before their concert?

[blissfullyecho]

how to study + become a better college student

*i’m in nursing school for reference*

before classes/school:

#1. eat a good, hearty breakfast. i cannot concentrate when i’m hungry because i think about lunch or having a snack. i like to carb up for breakfast (carbs give you energy) and have things like pancakes, french toast, bagels, etc., as well as protein (because that keeps you full) like eggs, turkey bacon, yogurt, etc. i like to take a green powder or a multivitamin during this time to give my body what it needs so that i can function for the rest of the day too.

#2. i always bring water with me to class so that i can concentrate and not think about how thirsty i am. it’s super important to stay hydrated so come prepared.

#3. i know the lesson plan and what’s going to be talked about each day, and if your classes are run like that too, read the chapter or look over whatever it is you’re going to look over today in class to give you a general idea of what you’re going to learn today. this will help you feel like you’re one step ahead (which you are).

#4. wake up early enough to be relaxed in the morning. every time i didn’t perform my best in school was when i woke up and immediately rushed to get ready for class and not took the time to allow myself to ‘wake up’. your mornings should be chill, not a race against the clock.

during classes/school:

#1. actually jot down notes— do not rely on just using your phone to take pictures of the board/powerpoint. when you write your notes down, you get a chance to get that information stuck in your head. what i do if my instructor goes too fast on the powerpoints is: i take a picture of the powerpoint, then i write down what she/he says, then when i get home i rewrite what i took a picture of and the notes that i took in class (i’ll talk about this later).

#2. ask questions— who cares if you’re shy or whatever. asking questions will allow you to be more engaged and it shows your professors/instructors/teachers that you actually care (and they might even bump some grades up for you if you show you’ve taken initiative and tried). every question you ask, write your question down and their response in your notes. i’m telling you, this has helped so much and it gives you such a good look.

#3. use your lunch break for what it is— a break. 30 minutes isn’t a lot of time for an 8 hour day so actually rest and enjoy your lunch during this time. you need a chance to reset.

#4. if you can, always ask to review your tests with your professors/instructors. see what you got wrong and talk it through with them. in nursing school, we generally aren’t able to see what we got wrong on our exams and tests without our professor being there to review them with us. please do this.

#5. use a 1 subject notebook for each class and have pens/pencils that you only use for class. your notes in class should be legible but not super pretty. make your notes pretty at home, not in class.

#6. when taking a test, go over the questions and answers before turning in. there have been so many times i read a question too quickly and changed my answer and i ended up being correct when i looked it over again. don’t make those dumb mistakes.

#7. befriend the other students who do really well in the class. seriously, this will save you.

after classes/school:

#1. when you get home from school, unwind for an hour. take a shower, go to the gym, do whatever you want to do to allow yourself to relax and unwind. you need to take another break after school to regroup and to find a little bit of balance.

#2. review the notes you took in class that day and the pictures you took of the board, and rewrite your notes in a different notebook. so i suggest 2 notebooks for each class— one for your sloppy in-class notes and another for your pretty and organized notes. rewriting your notes will allow your brain to help retain that information.

#3. spend some time each day after rewriting your notes to watch a few videos on youtube about that topic. for nursing school, i like to look at 1-3 videos about what we’re learning to get a wider understanding.

#4. on the weekends, i like to spend 1-2, sometimes 3 hours each day reviewing everything i learned that week. i will watch more videos, i will read over my notes, and i will also create flashcards with my own practice questions in regards to the notes i take and quiz myself with those cards.

[slasherscream]

Can you do some more until dawn characters (yandere please) like you’re trying on clothes at the mall and ask their opinion?

YANDERE UNTIL DAWN CHARACTERS + READER IS TRYING ON CLOTHES

A/N: thank you for reading my until dawn content! it's such a small fandom these days, comments/reblogs/anon reviews/asks are appreciated as they let me know people are still reading these. 

- Josh has an excellent eye for aesthetics. He may not know all the words/names for the types of clothes you look good in but he recognizes them right away. He’ll try and describe something you should get, give up, wander off, then come back with examples of what he meant while you’re in the dressing room. If the shopping trip is under four hours he can remain locked in the entire time. This is the strength of will and character that comes with being the big brother to two little sisters who got his driving license first. He’s spent entire lifetimes at the mall hyping up the twins. He knows what to do. Overall helpfulness: 8/10.

- Sam loves spending quality time with you. Quality time is one of her preferred love languages, in fact. She picks you up for your shopping day with your favorite coffee shop order in hand, from the best place in town. She’s good with little details like that. You can always count on her to give you her honest opinion on what you pick out. She’s gentle about it, but she’ll never let you wear something she thinks is unflattering. She’s also mindful of waste consumption. With Sam’s help you wind up picking things you love, are comfortable wearing, and that you’ll actually use. Not a penny wasted, no matter how much you spend. Overall helpfulness: 10/10. 

- Chris could not possibly, in any version of reality, fix his mouth to give you a criticism about any of your choices. Let alone choices about how you will go about decorating your body. He’s lucky he gets to look at you. It’s an honor! Thank you for honoring him! Every time you step out of the dressing room you will get the exact same answer, very enthusiastically, in the same tone: “That looks GREAT, babe!” You’ll be ready to kill him thirty minutes in. Absolutely worthless feedback. You’ll have to get help from the salespeople who work there for opinions. If you want a ‘yes man’ this is your guy! Overall helpfulness: 3/10. 

Hannah is another sap. She’s more helpful than Chris, but only by the slightest margin. If something doesn’t look good she’ll be able to stutter her way around to it…. eventually. She’s nearly petrified at the thought of upsetting you. Never-mind the fact that you’ve asked her how the top looks on you five times now. “Well…. I mean… how do YOU think it looks, Y/N?” As if you’d be asking if you could come up with an opinion yourself. You’ll wind up leaving with only a few items. You’ll have to come back with a friend in a few days. You may need a new wardrobe, but if you need help picking it out, you’ll need a different set of eyes. Overall helpfulness: 4/10.

- Emily is going to be honest to the point that, yes, it will hurt your feelings a little… if you’re lucky. Mileage may vary. If you’re particularly sensitive she’ll hurt your feelings a lot. But god forbid you start trying to take someone nicer shopping with you. She’ll throw the hissy fit of the century when she finds out. Yes, when, and not if. Emily manages to find out everything you try to keep from her. Everything. On one hand you’ll wind up looking the best you’ve ever looked. Your entire wardrobe suits you perfectly. She even buys/picks out things that you’ll like, in your style, even if she finds the style personally distasteful. That’s how much she loves you. It just has to suit you, or else she will say something, and the way she says it is never very nice. You’ll look incredible, but at what cost to your mental health? Overall helpfulness: 8/10. 

- Mike isn't very enthusiastic about the activity, but likes the good boyfriend points it garners him. Thus, he will come along whenever you bid him to do so. He’s only got about two and a half hours of shopping in him though, so try and have an idea of what you want to get in your mind. Before you arrive at the stores, please. If you take a long lunch break he can go back for another two hours but this is his hard limit. Knows well enough what you already look good in. Or when something looks downright awful on you. He does struggle a little to help if you’re wanting to try a completely new style. He’s as lost as you. The more underground/alternative/particular the style you want to try is, the worse the advice gets. If you’re just doing a wardrobe refresher this is your man. Overall helpfulness: 6/10. 

- Beth makes shopping relaxing. You’ll stay as long as you need in order to get everything you need. She probably had you make a Pinterest board before you guys went out so that you’d be able to refer back to it. She knows getting into the stores can wipe your mind clean of what you needed/wanted to get. She’ll have you guys stop for lunch as well, but then you’re right back at it! She likes seeing your style evolve and change. Her feedback is honest, but gentle. It won’t ever feel like a criticism of your body, just the clothing. You walk out satisfied and always happier than when you came in together. Overall helpfulness: 10/10. 

- Jessica is in her element here. Honestly, Jessica drags you shopping with her more than you’ll ever drag her shopping. Spending time together means a lot to Jessica. She never takes it for granted. Thus, she always tries to make any activity, but especially repeat ones like shopping, fun. She probably has a shopping playlist she made for the two of you. You both wear one wireless earbud and get to movie montage with each other. Watch out if the Princess Diaries songs or something Hip-hop comes on, she’ll start dancing to make you laugh. Her feedback is upbeat and positive, but honest. She hypes you up like crazy when you come out wearing something that makes you look really hot! Wolf whistles and everything, your face will be burning up as you flee back into the safety of the dressing room. “Baby, come back! You look smoking!” Overall helpfulness: 9/10. 

- Matt knows absolutely nothing about fashion. He tries his very best to help, but he’s at a loss. Only if something very obviously doesn’t suit you will he be able to veto it for you. “I dunno… maybe it’s a little awkward in the arms or…. something?” You’ll have to take a few breaths. However, if something looks good, he can absolutely be a hype man! His eyes light up, he takes your hand, makes you do a spin. All the attention is enough to make you kick your feet and giggle. He can compliment you all day long. To his credit, he can compliment you specifically enough on what looks good. Even if it’s still a little vague. “The color of this makes you look really… wow! You know?” You’ll be able to figure out he means jewel tones make your skin look glowy one of these days. For now, at least you know your boyfriend thinks you’re gorgeous no matter what you wear. Overall helpfulness: 5/10.