#the old theme was like…5 or 8 years old at that point and it was time for a fresh start😌🥹

[sydney-carton-of-sour-milk]

AT LONG LAST, I AM DELIGHTED TO SAY

THIS BLOG HAS A FRESH NEW THEME!

(this is a desktop-only thing, but the mobile version does also have a new banner now so hey!)

[imaginespazzi]

Part 9: These Moments Of Ours

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8

Just crash, it's our time now (to make this work second time around)

(In which a people-pleasing author gives the people what they've been begging for)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Fluff with a little bit Angst

Words: 7.2K Words

TW: Explicit Sexual Content, Swearing

A/N: Hello my lovelies <3 Thank you for being oh so patient with me because I know I really made y'all wait and hopefully it'll be worth the wait. I'm gonna keep this pretty short and sweet today so onto the usual. Please keep sending me your thoughts and theories; they're the best motivation a girl could ask for. I did edit but feel free to point out the inevitable typos/mistakes. As always, let me know what you liked, what you disliked and what you'd like to see going forward. Have a lovely rest of your week my loves :)

April 2030 

UConn 84   Notre Dame 82 

The blue and white section of the Moda Center crowd erupts in cheers as the final buzzer rings through the stadium. Confetti rains down on the court as the UConn Huskies are crowned national champions once again. Paige’s scream is drowned out by KK’s louder whoop as the two of them excitedly wrap their arms around each other, jumping up and down like they’re college students all over again. 

“Oh okay, love the inclusion,” Ice rolls her eyes but it morphs into a grin as her former teammates pull her into their group hug, all three of them making a ruckus that’s drowned out by the crowd around them roaring in excitement. 

“Can y’all be a little quieter. I’m tryna mourn my Irish in peace,” Sonia says lousily, glaring at them in irritation as she fiddles with her clover bracelet. 

“Oh cheer up Citron,” Paige teases her Wings teammate, “at least y’all finally made it back to the Final Four.”

“Fuck all the way off Bueckers-”

“GO HUSKIES,” a loud voice interrupts Sonia’s grumbling as Jana rushes into their section, the Valkyries center smiling vibrantly as she crashes into her old friends, “BLEED BLUE BABY!”

“Bleed blue!” the three UConn faithful chorus back as Sonia glumly saunters over to Maddy Westbeld who had come over with Jana, the two Fighting Irish alum sharing a commiserating hug. 

“This is why everyone finds you Huskies insufferable,” Maddy says with disgust. 

“Because we just keep winning? There, there little leprechauns,” Ice taunts, light-heartedly patting Maddy and Sonia’s heads as both of them bristle and flash the Wings forward with a synchronized middle finger, “I’m sure you’ll catch up to us never.”

Paige is about to join in on the ribbing when KK turns to Jana with a frown, “where’s Azzi? I thought all of y’all came together.”

She shouldn’t care this much anymore. It’s been five years and Paige thinks it’s a little ridiculous how quickly her ears perks up at the mention of her girlfriend, thinks it’s a little pathetic how she leans in closer to Jana, embarrassingly eager to hear the answer to KK’s question. 

“We did. She wanted to go call her parents to check on Stephie,” Jana explains. 

KK rolls her eyes, her face as disappointed as Paige feels, “of course she did.”

“What’s that supposed to mean,” Jana narrows her eyes at the shorter woman, a protective edge to her tone.  

“It means that this avoidance bullshit Azzi’s on is pretty fucking tired,” KK sneers. 

“KK bro chill,” Ice steps in immediately, looking worriedly between her two friends as Jana’s eyes flash with fire. 

“She’s checking on her daughter KK. She’s not trying to avoid anything,” Jana’s quietness is in stark contrast with the loud cheers around them and Paige swallows the guilt clawing at her throat. This is their fault. Her and Azzi’s. They’d caused an earthquake in their own lives and the aftershocks had rippled throughout their friends and families, creating rubble where there had once been solid foundations. 

KK laughs bitterly, “she had to check on her daughter right now? The game ended like three fucking seconds ago and she couldn’t just wait?”

“You’re being unfair.”

“Why are you always defending her?”

“Because she’s my teammate and it’s not all her fault,” Jana spits out, eyes briefly darting towards Paige who digs her fingernails into her palm, “it’s not her fault that she doesn’t always feel welcome around certain people.”

“And how about the rest of us people who’d really like to see her once in a while?” hurt tinges in KK’s words, “she can’t put the other shit aside for one fucking second?”

Jana opens her mouth, ready to defend her Azzi again but before she can speak, a calm voice cuts in, “hi guys.”

Goosebumps rush up Paige’s arms as she takes in the sight of the ex-girlfriend. There’s nothing extravagant to Azzi’s outfit, a simple UConn sweatshirt paired with black ripped jeans and minimal jewelry but she looks as radiant as always. There’s an awkward tension in the air as Azzi warily takes in the way KK and Jana are still glaring at each other. Her eyes accidentally lock with Paige and the blonde can see the same guilt of this is our collateral damage reflected back in those dark brown orbs. 

“Hi Azzi,” Ice is the first one to break the silence, wrapping the Valkyries shooting guard in a hug, “how’s Stephanie?”

Paige watches as Azzi’s eyes light up at the mention of her daughter's name, all of her previous apprehension gone as she begins to gush about the little girl, “she’s good. Somehow manipulated my dad into letting her stay up past her bedtime but good. She’s only two years old but already such a damn menace,” the brunette’s gaze wanders over to KK, “I guess that was to be expected huh? Any child of mine was bound to be one.”

KK cracks a half smile, bumping her shoulder against Jana’s as a truce sign, “you call it being menace, we call it being smart as hell right El Alfy?”

“Dude that’s what I tell her every time,” Jana immediately accepts the white flag, slinging an arm around the shorter woman, “Azzi just has genius children. Me, you, Nés and now Stephie.”

Ice gawks at the two of them, “seriously?”

“Well you see Ice, statistically she can’t have all genius children. Someone needed to be average,” KK mocks, high-fiving a giggling Jana. 

“Are y’all seeing this bullying?” Ice rounds on Paige and Azzi, hands on her hips with dramatically wide eyes, “are y’all really gonna let them bully your favorite child like this?”

“We don’t have favorites,” Paige and Azzi say at the same, pausing abruptly at the resurgence of familiar synchronicity between them. They glance briefly at each other, shuffling nervously, before immediately looking away. 

“I hate all of y’all,” Ice pouts, petulantly folding her arms against her chest. 

“Aw cheer up Icey,” Jana pats the top of Ice’s head, “how about a round of shots at the hotel bar to cheer you up?” she turns to Maddy and Sonia, who’d been having their own conversation, with a devilish grin, “losing team’s paying.”

“Y’all are sore winners,” Maddy huffs. 

Paige’s eyes dart towards Azzi, waiting for the younger woman to come up with a shallow excuse like she usually does to get out of having to spend more time with the blonde than necessary. And she knows that it’s unfair of her, knows that it’s only natural for someone to actively avoid being stuck in the same place as their past -thinks only a fool like her could want to be in their ex’s presence- but every time Azzi escapes being around her, Paige can’t help the disappointment that curls in her stomach. 

“Y’all coming,” KK asks, a slight edge to her voice as she twists to look at Paige and Azzi. 

“Of course,” Paige grins, locking arms with Sonia who immediately groans, “I’m not passing up free drinks. Especially not when the Irish are paying.”

“Az?” KK’s eyes are hopeful. 

Azzi bites her lip and Paige can almost see the cogs turning in her brain before she schools her features into a soft smile, “yeah. I’ll come.”

*** 

Paige isn’t sure how it happens. Well actually, that’s not quite right. She definitely has an idea of how it happened. She’s not quite sure when KK, Ice and Jana had had time to devise the plan but she’s certain that’s how it happened. Because really, there’s no other reasonable explanation for how she and Azzi have ended up being the only two people, from their previous party of seven, that are still sitting at the bar. Maddy and Sonia had left first, muttering under their breaths about not wanting to be around insufferable winners. Ice had been the next to leave, making up an excuse about how she wanted to call her boyfriend. Then Jana had apparently needed the bathroom. When she hadn’t returned in a solid 15 minutes, it was KK’s turn. A barely disguised grin and a hard-to-believe lie of  I think Jana got lost, I should go help her on her lips as she’d excused herself to the sound of Paige and Azzi’s protests. 

The two of them sit in awkward silence for a bit until Azzi suddenly bursts out laughing, the corner of her eyes crinkling. Paige regards her with amusement, trying to ignore the way the sound of the younger woman laughing feels like hearing her favorite song come on in the car on a warm summer road trip. 

“You’re a little young to be going crazy,” she remarks. 

“Shut up,” Azzi rolls her eyes, lightly punching Paige’s shoulder, “it’s just- they’re still all really shitty liars.”

Paige laughs, “and they still come up with the dumbest plans.”

“Do you remember when they locked us in the Werth changing rooms when we had that stupid fight-”

“Hey,” Paige interrupts indignantly, “it wasn’t stupid-”

“It was definitely stupid-”

“You asked Carol to drive you to rehab instead of me.”

“Because you had practice at the same time.”

“I wouldn’t have minded being five minutes late to practice.”

Azzi snorts, “more like half an hour and you sure as shit wouldn’t have been fine when coach would have yelled at you and made you run suicides after.”

“I wouldn’t have cared,” Paige shrugs, “running suicides would have been worth it for an extra hour with you.”

Azzi stares at her, mouth opening and closing several times before she finally looks away, a soft sigh falling from her lips, “you’re doing it again.”

“I’m not doing anything,” Paige says, unable to keep the defensiveness from creeping into her words. 

“You are,” Azzi slips off the barstool, “you are and you don’t even know it.”

“Azzi,” Paige curls her hand around the other woman’s bicep, pulling her in to stop her from leaving and it’s a bad idea because now they’re too close and her heartbeat quickens immediately at the fact that if she leaned in just a little bit more, there would be no more space left between them, “what am I doing?”

“You’re- you-” Azzi stutters, gulping as her eyes briefly flicker down to Paige’s lips, “you’re making me feel.”

“Making you feel what?” Paige presses. 

For a second, Paige thinks Azzi might just give in to her heart, might just tell the truth but then something hardens in her face, and the next word that slips out of her mouth has both of them going rigid, “how’s your wife Paige?”

“Az-”

“I should go to bed,” Azzi says firmly, trying to wriggle out of Paige’s tightening grip. 

“Azzi-”

“I have an early flight and I should probably wake up a little earlier than I normally would cause you know Jana’s gonna need me to wake her up,” Azzi rambles still trying to twist her arm out of Paige’s hold. 

“Hold on-”

“Can you just let go of me-”

“I’m trying to tell-”

“I really need to get to bed-’

“Az-”

“I have to go-”

“Azzi I’m getting a divorce,” Paige bursts out; the admission feels light a heavy weight off her chest.

Azzi stops fighting against the blonde’s grip, “oh.”

“We’ve- um-” Paige’s throat feels dry as Azzi’s eyes continue to bore into her, “we’ve been separated for a while and I finally-uh- finally filed the papers a little while ago. So um- to your question- I uh- I don’t know how she is because I- I don’t- there uh- there isn’t- there isn’t a wife.”

There’s silence for a bit as Azzi’s head bops up and down as she processes Paige’s revelation, “I’m um-” she clears her throat, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. It’s not like it’s your fault,” and that’s not completely true -not when Olivia had repeatedly thrown the past back in Paige’s face- but she doesn’t think Azzi needs to know that, doesn’t want the younger woman to feel guilty for things beyond her control. She’s confused when Azzi flinches, like a memory has just pinched her nerves. 

“Right,” Azzi bites, “I really should- I really should be going to bed.”

Something gloomy settles across Paige’s heart as she nods at the brunette’s words, slipping out of her own chair as they start walking towards the elevator in the lobby. She feels antsy, like she’s leaving something incomplete. The silence rings loud between them as they wait for the elevator doors to open, keeping as much distance as they can from each other. It feels like ages before the familiar ding! finally rings out around them. Despite the abundance of room inside, the doorway into the elevator is rather condensed and their shoulders brush against each other as they make their way inside. Audible sighs involuntarily roll off of their tongues at the brief second of contact as they both shiver from each other’s familiar touch. There’s enough space now that they could easily move away -they probably should move away- but instead they stay pressed together. The sound of their uneven breathing fills the elevator as the doors close in front of them.

“I’m uh- I’m on the third floor,” Azzi says as she presses the #3 button, “you?”

“Fifth,” Paige breathes out, eyes fixated on the goosebumps that appear on the back of Azzi’s neck as her hands shake while pushing the #5 button. 

The elevator jolts up and Paige immediately reaches for Azzi’s hips to steady her, eliciting a small gasp from the other woman. She waits for Azzi to move away but the brunette stays put and Paige doesn’t move her hands. 

The doors open on the third floor. Both of them suck in a sharp breath. 

Azzi doesn’t get out. 

*** 

Paige wakes up to the dreadful sound of her alarm clock blaring around her room. It takes a second before the memories of last night start pounding against her skull. Her body aches in the best way possible. The room is still dark -just like it had been last night- and she closes her eyes, trying to revisit the feeling of Azzi’s lips pressed against her forehead, right before the younger woman -with her hair disheveled and bitemarks littered across her jawline-  had left Paige’s room. 

Paige hadn’t asked Azzi to stay. She wonders if she should have; wonders if Azzi would have agreed if she’d asked. But she hadn’t asked and Azzi hadn’t stayed. She regrets it a little bit. She wonders if Azzi does too. And Paige thinks that maybe that’s just the melancholic truth about their tragic story. 

Maybe they’re destined to always regret. 

*** 

April 2033

Paige thinks Azzi’s guest room air conditioning must be broken or something. There’s no other explanation for why, despite having kicked off every single blanket, she feels like she’s tossing and turning in red hot lava. She feels restless, like she has a purpose that she’s leaving unfulfilled. All the different scenes from tonight are rushing through her head, but her heart keeps stuttering on the last one; an image of the way Azzi had looked at her before they’d kissed good night. 

Azzi had asked her to stay even if she’d hidden it under a lame disguise of it being too late and Paige being too angry to drive home alone. And it’s not completely false that her blood is still boiling, their little encounter with fucking asshole still dangerously lingering in her mind as she thinks of the 101 ways she would have liked to murder him. But they both know that the minute Azzi had run her hand down Paige’s back, the moment she’d called her baby, the moment she’d given her the reassurance she was too scared to ask for but needed desperately, Paige had felt all the anger in her body replaced by that familiar sense of calm only Azzi had ever been able to provide. 

And after that had been decided, they’d both hesitated in the hallway, looking back and forth between Azzi’s master bedroom and the guestroom. Paige doesn’t know what had possessed her, why she’d decided tonight of all nights to play this false chivalrous rule-abiding good girl persona when it was the last thing she wanted to do. Because the last couple of weeks had been hell. The stupid rules had been hell. Going slow had been hell. Having to pull away from Azzi and walk out the door every night when all she wanted to was to lose herself in the brunette’s arms had been hell. But she’d done it for Azzi. She’d done it because there isn’t a thing in the world that she wouldn’t do for Azzi. Except tonight had been different. There had been that look on Azzi’s face -the way the younger woman had bitten her lips, the way her eyes had been hooded over, the way her cheeks had been flushed as her gaze roamed over Paige’s body- and  it had morphed into one of pure disappointment when Paige had said she’d take the guestroom. 

You’re a fucking idiot Paige Bueckers, she thinks to herself as she bolts right up, the image finally burning a little too bright behind her eyelids to continue this façade of trying to sleep. Perhaps it’s pointless. It’s late and Azzi loves her sleep; there’s no way she’s awake. But Paige slides out of bed anyways, breathing unevenly as she turns on the nightlight and walks towards her door. She doesn’t have a plan, doesn’t have any idea what she’d even say if Azzi is, by some miracle of god, even awake. But fuck it, Paige needs to see this through. She pauses at the door, hands wrapping around the cold handle as she gives herself one more chance to back out. Really, she doesn’t even know why she’s so nervous. It’s Azzi. Her Azzi. 

Paige twists the handle to tug the door open. 

Azzi’s eyes widen in surprise, her fisted hand -that had clearly been raised to knock on the mahogany door- freezing in place as she swallows and Paige is mesmerized by the way it highlights the veins in her neck. Her eyes move downwards, fixating on where Azzi’s oversized t-shirt hangs looser on one-side, leaving her right shoulder and collarbone on display. The shirt right above her thighs, giving Paige the perfect display of Azzi’s toned long legs looming beneath and the blonde gulps at the sight. 

“Hi,” Azzi speaks first, the low graveliness in her tone causing a coil of want to wrap itself around Paige’s stomach. 

“Hey,” Paige whispers back, “couldn’t sleep?”

Azzi bites her lip, “no- I just uh-, people always say- like when Jana sleeps over or something- she always says that- that the guest room is um- it’s too cold so I just- I wanted to make sure- wanted to ask-” she clears her throat, taking a step forward as she look earnestly at Paige, “are you cold?”

“So cold,” Paige confirms, moving closer to Azzi so their chests are almost touching. 

“You could um-” Azzi licks her teeth, “you could stay in Stephie’s room-” 

“I could?” Paige asks, pressing herself flush against the younger woman, hands wrapping around her waist. There’s barely space for air between them but she wants to get closer, wants to stitch herself into Azzi’s skin and keep them intertwined forever. 

“You could but,” Azzi’s hand trails Paige’s biceps, causing the blonde to shiver, before finally interlocking around her neck, “I think- I think her bed might be a little small for you.”

“Way too small,” Paige breathes against Azzi’s skin as she nips at the brunette’s jawline, before ghosting her lips against her neck, leaving a trail of mine mine mine down her throat.

“Paige,” Azzi’s voice is breathless as she tilts her head, hissing when Paige bites harshly right above her collarbone, immediately soothing it with her tongue, “I think- I think-fuck” she cuts herself with a moan as Paige turns them around, maneuvering them back towards the bed that suddenly looks far more inviting then it had before,  “I just think-”

“You think too much,” Paige says softly, finally removing her lips from Azzi’s skin -she misses the taste of it immediately- so she can smile teasingly at the brunette. 

“Do I?” Azzi grins dopily. 

Paige rolls her eyes, continuing to walk them backwards, “way, way too much.”

They’re forced to a halt when the back of Azzi’s thighs collide against the backframe of the bed. It feels like a turning point, like they could unlock a new chapter or keep themselves on the one they’re already on. And while Paige would really to skip forward, she’ll be okay with whatever happens next as long as the story being written is still theirs, still about her and Azzi. 

“Paige,” Azzi whispers again -and Paige loves the way Azzi’s lips curl around the syllable of her name- as she bunches the blonde’s shirt in her hands, “make me stop thinking.”

“Whatever you want baby,” Paige promises before they both go tumbling into the mattress, their lips colliding in a heated kiss. It feels like they’re trying to meld themselves into each other, like their bodies are carving out an indent of you and i just always feel right against the bedsheets. 

“I want this off,” Azzi breathes out between kisses, hands lifting the edge of Paige’s shirt, “off, off, off.”

“So bossy,” Paige smirks, leaning up off of Azzi to take off her shirt in a tantalizingly slow manner, enjoying the way the brunette’s eyes darken as they glide across her abs first and then her breasts, “enjoying the sho- fuck Az.”

The words are stolen from her mouth as Azzi swirls her tongue around one erect nipple, her hands cupping Paige’s ass to balance the blonde on top of her. She’s always known exactly how to get Paige to shut the fuck up. Paige groans as Azzi flips them over, shifting herself to press her thigh in between Paige’s legs and the blonde can’t help but grind up against it, desperate for some much needed friction, as Azzi sucks a possessive bruise against her jaw. 

“Missed this,” Azzi whispers, as she kisses down Paige’s neck, “and this,” a kiss pressed against her collarbone, “and these,” Azzi presses her lips softly to each breast, “and this,” against Paige’s stomach, “and these,” two featherlight kisses are peppered against her hip bones, “and I really missed these.”

“Azzi,” Paige moans as the brunette’s lips glide across the inside of her thighs, taking her sweet time marking only i could ever make you feel like this against every inch of Paige’s skin. 

Azzi stops right above the edge of Paige’s boxers before slowly peeling them off as sparkling brown eyes staring up at her with a myriad of unspoken emotions that Paige could spend a lifetime trying to memorize, “missed all of this. Missed everything about you. Missed you so much baby.”

Vulnerability echoes in Azzi’s voice as she slowly moves herself back up, hands coming to cup Paige’s face as they press their foreheads together. And it’s not like she hadn’t known that Azzi must have missed her in these last couple of years. But there’s a part of Paige that had thought that there was no way Azzi could have missed her as much as she missed Azzi. Because missing Azzi had felt all consuming, like there was a constant noose around her neck that got tighter and tighter with every day that passed by. But there’s something about the way the words reverberate around the room, something about the way Azzi looks like she can finally breathe again after saying it out loud that it hits Paige; it hits her that they’ve both been suffocating without each other. 

“I missed you too,” she breathes out, tears pooling at the edge of her eyes, “missed you so fucking much Azzi.”

“Yeah?” Azzi whispers, lips catching the lone tear that falls from Paige’s eyes, “how much?”

Paige shudders as Azzi’s fingers teasingly ghost over her wet folds, “s-so much. Azzi please. Need it so bad. Need you so bad.”

“Whatever you want baby,” Azzi repeats Paige’s own words back to her before she finally gives her what she’s desperately been craving, two fingers rhythmically pumping in and out of her pussy as her thumb rubs circles against Paige’s clit. 

“Fuck, fuck, just like that-” a litany of curses waterfall from Paige’s lips as she bucks her hips up against Azzi’s hand, “fuck please.”

“Please what?” Azzi asks coyly, fingers moving at a faster face as she hides a grin against Paige’s neck, “gotta tell me what you want baby.”

“W-want your mouth please- please Azzi-baby please,” Paige begs, writhing underneath her when Azzi immediately complies, lips attaching to her clit as she adds another finger, “fuck Azzi- I’m so close.”

“I know baby,” the words vibrate against Paige’s core, sending another bout of ecstasy shooting up her spine as she feels that familiar buildup in her stomach.

“Azz I’m gonna-”

“I know. Let go baby. I’ve got you. I’m gonna catch you I promise,” Azzi whispers. 

And it’s those words, that promise, that sends Paige over the edge, a cry of Azzi’s name falling from her lips. Because she knows Azzi means them for a lot more than just this moment, that those words -the promise- are born out of something deeper than lust. And maybe neither of them are quite ready to acknowledge that yet, not ready to make vows that teeter dangerously close to the ones they watched themselves break in the past, but it lingers between them, like a string made of we’ve always been inevitable connecting their hearts to each other. 

Azzi slowly eases her fingers out of Paige, pressing open-mouthed kisses against the older woman’s stomach as she recovers from her high, before looking up at her with a smirk. Never breaking eye contact, Azzi slips her fingers into her own mouth, leisurely sucking at them as she watches Paige’s face contort with desire. 

“Was I good?” she asks teasingly and Paige growls. 

“How have you gotten better at that? Actually you know what never mind,” Paige shakes her head, “I don’t want to know that.”

Azzi laughs, hiding her face against Paige’s neck, “only that good for you.”

“Good,” Paige tightens her arms around the woman on top of her and then scrunches her face as she feels the material of Azzi’s shirt itch against her wrists, “well this is unfair.”

“What is?” Azzi hum backs. 

“I’m fully fucking naked and you haven’t taken a single thing off,” Paige grumbles as she coaxes Azzi’s face out of her neck, hands gripping the edge of her shit, “take this off.”

Azzi stills, her previous serene expression replaced by something more nervous, as she lifts herself up so she’s straddling the older woman’s hips, “Paige-”

“What’s wrong?” Paige’s senses are on high alert immediately as she rises up herself, maneuvering them so Azzi’s fully on her lap. 

“I just-,” Azzi draws in a deep breath, looking downwards as she chews her lips.

“Hey,” Paige whispers, lifting the younger woman’s chin back up before pressing their foreheads together, “talk to me baby.”

“Can we just-” Azzi plays with the end of Paige’s hair, “can we maybe just-” she cocks her head towards the nightlight on the desk, “do you think we could turn the light off?”

“What?” Paige asks confusedly, “Azzi I’ve seen you naked-”

“Not since- not since I had Stephie,” Azzi interrupts, cowering under Paige’s intense stare, “the lights- the lights were off that one time and the other time I don't think- I don’t think we were sober enough for me to care or for you to remember so can we just-”

“Azzi,” Paige cups the younger woman’s face, “baby there is no amount of alcohol in the world that could make me forget you. Trust me I’ve tried,” she slips her hand under Azzi’s shirt, caressing the skin underneath, “but every time I see you baby, I memorize every little part of you,” she dances her fingertips across where she remembers those stretch marks -the ones Azzi is so afraid of her seeing again- are littered across her stomach, “and whether I’m sober or drunk or something in between, I always think every little bit of you is perfect.”

“Paige,” Azzi says softly, something akin to awe coating her voice. 

“Just wanna make you feel as good as you made me feel baby. Please,” Paige wraps her fingers around the edge of Azzi’s shirt again, “can I?”

“Okay,” Azzi concedes quietly, lifting her arms so Paige can finally tug the offending shirt off. 

Paige gives herself a moment to look at the woman in front of her, the woman whose body she’s seen countless times yet she swears that it feels like a different adventure every time. And then she lets herself have a taste, running her tongue lazily across Azzi’s skin, as she slowly maneuvers them so she can hover above the younger woman. A soft smile flitter across her face as she rubs her fingers over the tattoo printed across Azzi’s ribcage. It’s a purple S tattoo, with butterfly wings fanning out on either side. For Stephie. 

Keeping her eyes trained on the darker-skinned , she brushes her lips across the stretch marks on the darker-skinned woman’s abdomen and she hopes that Azzi can read the all of your imperfections are still made for me that Paige is spelling out against her skin. She uses her teeth to pull down Azzi’s panties, smirking to herself when she hears the younger woman's breath hitch above her. Eyes still interlocked with Azzi’s, Paige is purposefully slow as she licks a stripe up Azzi’s folds, relishing the way the other woman’s eyes roll back into her head. 

“So fucking wet,” she hums, “all for me?”

“You know-” Azzi shudders when Paige’s lips brush against her clit, still teasing, “you know it is.”

Paige smirks, “only for me.”

“Please,” Azzi begs as Paige continues to lazily lap at her pussy, giving her something but not quite enough. 

“Say it,” Paige demands, harshly biting against Azzi’s inner thigh as she brings up a hand to rub infinity signs around Azzi’s clit, “say it’s only for me.”

“It’s only for you-” Azzi cuts herself off with a scream as Paige plunges her tongue deep inside her, setting a tempo she knows will have Azzi seeing stars. 

“Doing so good for me baby,” Paige coos as she adds two fingers with her tongue, “always so good for me.”

“Fuck,” Azzi fists the bedsheets, trying to gain some semblance of control as she writhes under Paige’s touch, “feels so good. Paige please.”

“I know,” Paige whispers, “I know what you need baby.”

And that’s the thing about them. That’s why it’s good every single time. Because Paige knows every little crevice of Azzi’s body like it’s her own, knows exactly where to touch and how to touch to elicit those little gasps of pleasure that she wishes she could record and listen to on loop. And it doesn’t matter how long they go without each other in between, coming back always feels like home. But as much as she loves the feeling of coming back, Paige never wants to feel it again. Because this time, she hopes there is no in between without each other. She hopes that this time, they both stay. 

“Paige,” Azzi moans again, her name falling from her mouth like a prayer. 

“I’ve got you,” Paige whispers, capturing Azzi’s lips with her own as she continues her ministrations with her hand, “fall apart for me baby. I swear I’ll put you back together.”

There’s nothing quite like watching Azzi come undone and Paige drinks in the sight of the other woman quivering as she grabs the blonde’s bicep so tight that it’s bound to leave a victory mark. Paige coaxes her through it, nibbling at Azzi’s jawline as the younger woman slowly climbs down from her peak, going limp in Paige’s arms. 

They’re quiet for a while, languorously pressing delicate kisses against each other's skin, soft hands exploring all over each other’s familiar bodies as they tangle their legs together; close not being close enough. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” Paige whines when Azzi starts to move out of her grasp. 

“I got what I came for,” Azzi teases, “so I’m going back to my own bed.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Paige scowls, pulling the younger woman back into her chest. 

Azzi laughs, kissing away Paige’s pout as she wriggles out of her grip and slips out of the bed, “relax. I’m just getting something to clean us up with.”

“Well hurry up. I’m already cold,” Paige mewls before letting out a wolf-whistle as her eyes drift over Azzi’s naked retreating form, appreciating the tautness of the brunette’s back muscles down to her perfectly curved ass. 

“You’re 31 years old Paige Bueckers,” Azzi chides as she walks into the ensuite bathroom but Paige can hear the blush in her voice. 

“And you’re hot as fuck Azzi Fudd,” Paige calls out with a smirk, keeping the and you’re all mine as a secret in her own thoughts. 

“You’re not bad yourself Bueckers,” Azzi returns from the bathroom with a smile and a damp cloth as she hops back onto the bed, gently dabbing it between Paige’s thighs. 

It’s a simple act but Paige feels tears prickle at the corner of the eyes. Because it signifies so much more than just this moment. For most of her life, Paige had grown accustomed to the idea that no one would take care of her unless she took care of them first. She didn't know it was possible that someone could reach out first, that they could hold her first without any expectation of anything else in return. Until Azzi. 

“Baby?” Azzi’s voice is wrapped in concern as she takes notice of Paige’s tears, immediately rising up to brush them away, “what’s wrong?”

“Nothing I just-” Paige loops her arms around Azzi’s neck, shuddering slightly at how earnest the younger woman’s face is, “I really fucking missed you.”

Azzi’s eyes soften as she caresses Paige’s cheek before pressing her lips against her forehead, “I really fucking missed you too.”

***

Paige’s eyes flutter awake to sunlight peeking through the blue curtains of Azzi’s guest bedroom. She groans, shifting to bury her face further into the brunette’s stomach, pinching it when Azzi laughs above her. Lifting her head slightly, Paige can’t help but smile at the woman above her. Azzi’s got her glasses on, a book in her hands as she peers down at Paige with nothing but pure fondness. Something aches in Paige’s chest as countless visions of mornings just like this fill her head. She’d resigned herself to believing that she’d never get this back again, that she’d have to rely on memories of the past to fill the empty void that rattled hollowly against her chest every time she’d woken up without Azzi by her side. 

“Morning sleepy head,” Azzi says softly, putting her book down to brush her fingers through Paige’s hair, “assuming you slept well considering you didn’t even notice when I left to grab my glasses and a book from my room.”

Paige frowns, “you left me?”

“I was bored,” Azzi defends herself, “you were fast asleep and I had nothing to occupy myself with.”

“I can believe you left me,” Paige petulantly accuses again. 

“I didn’t leave-”

“You left me!”

“Okay fine,” Azzi concedes with an eyeroll, “but I came back.”

“Yeah you did,” a soft smile takes over Paige’s features as she leans up to brush her lips against Azzi’s, “you came back.”

“I did,” Azzi whispers against Paige’s mouth, cupping the older woman’s face with her hands. 

Paige is about to deepen the kiss, her hands beginning to slip lower, when the sound of a doorbell ruins any chances of putting in motion any of the uncordial ideas that had taken birth in her mind. She groans as Azzi immediately pulls away.

“Shit, I didn’t realize they’d be here so early.” the younger woman curses, hurriedly tossing Paige’s discarded clothes at her, “here, put your clothes on. I’ll go down first while you change.”

“I- I can come down?” Paige asks slowly. 

Azzi crinkles her eyes in confusion, “what do you mean? What else would you do?”

“I just. I dunno-” Paige shrugs, “I just assumed you uh- you wouldn’t want Stephie to know I stayed the night. I figured I’d sneak out of the window or something.”

“Paige,” Azzi whispers, walking over to grip the older girl’s hands, “you’re not- you’re not my dirty little secret or anything. I’m not- I’m not quite ready to tell Stephie about us- hell I’m not even really sure what we are yet but I know- I know that I don’t want to hide you from her. Besides,” she nudges Paige humorously, “we’re on the 2nd floor babe. I don’t need you trying to climb out the window and breaking your knee before the season even starts.”

Paige watches quietly as Azzi walks out the door. She doesn’t think the younger woman quite understands how much she had needed to hear those words, how much she had needed to not feel like a secret again. It fills Paige with a sense of hope, hope that maybe things would be different this time. Maybe things would be better this time. 

*** 

“Miss Buecks,” Stephie squeals from Azzi’s arms as she spots Paige descending down the stairs, “you’re already here!”

Paige smiles at the little girl, tapping her nose over Azzi’s shoulder, “I promised you I’d be here bright and early didn’t I?”

“Very bright and early,” Katie cocks an eyebrow as she smirks at Paige and Azzi, “how did you get here so early Paige?”

“Don’t be silly Nanna. She drove of course,” Stephie says matter-of-factly before scrunching up her nose, “but Miss Buecks. How come your car isn’t outside then?”

“That’s a great question Stephie,” Katie says and Paige thinks the woman’s a little bit too peppy for a grandmother, “why isn’t your car outside Paige?”

“Because-” Azzi gives her mother an exasperated look before fixing her eyes on her daughter, “because Paige slept over last night.”

“Miss Buecks slept over last night?” Stephie repeats. 

“I did,” Paige confirms, glaring at Katie as she snickers in the corner. 

“Mama can you please put me down,” Stephie says finally. 

The little girl looks upset and Paige feels her heart constrict with fear. In general, she doesn’t really do well with people being mad at her. But she definitely doesn't think she can take Stephie of all people being mad at her. The little girl has chiseled herself into Paige’s heart and if she ever left, Paige thinks she’d leave a hole so big, her entire heart would cease working. 

Azzi shares a nervous look with Paige as she sets her daughter down before crouching down to Stephie’s level, “what’s wrong Stephie-bean?”

Stephie’s bottom lip trembles as she looks between her mother and Paige, “you let Miss Buecks sleepover.”

“I-” Azzi looks helplessly between her own mother and Paige, both of whom look just as tense, “I did but sweetheart why is that upsetting you? You like Miss Buecks.”

“I love Miss Buecks,” Stephie wails and Paige lets out a sigh of relief, the little girl's words wrapping themselves around her like a warm blanket. 

Azzi blanches for a second, “I don’t understand then what’s the problem-”

 “YOU GUYS HAD A SLEEPOVER WITHOUT ME,” Stephie yells, stomping her tiny feet.  

Oh. 

“Stephie-” Azzi says softly, unable to keep the smile off of her face. 

“I can’t believe you’d do this to me Mama,” Stephie sniffs as she turns to Paige with a betrayed expression, “and you Miss Buecks. How could you guys have a sleepover without me?”

“Oh sweetheart,” Paige falls to her knees beside Azzi, trying not to smile when Stephie dramatically turns her face away from them, “we didn’t mean to. It was just really late when we got back from the party-”

“The party,” Stephie cries out, “first you went to a party without me and then you had a sleepover without me. I can’t bel-ieve you guys would do that to me. Don’t you guys love me at all?”

“We’re really sorry Stephie,” Paige says as seriously as she can, reaching out to fold Stephie’s tiny hands into her much larger one. 

“Very, very, sorry,” Azzi echoes. 

“I don’t know,” Katie supplies unhelpfully from where she’s watching the whole situation with pure amusement, “they don’t seem that sorry Stephie.”

“Mom!” “Katie!”

Katie raises her hands in mock surrender as both Paige and Azzi glare at her, “just looking out for my granddaughter’s best interest.”

“Stephie-bean,” Paige says again, maneuvering the little girl’s body to face her, “your Mama and I are very, very, sorry for having a sleepover without you. Please forgive us.”

Stephie looks at the adults kneeling in front of her with a contemplative expression, “you promise you’ll never do it again?”

“Never,” Azzi promises as Paige nods along.

“And when we go to the park today I can get three scoops of ice cream?” the little girl asks, the hint of a smile starting to breakthrough her lips. 

“I don’t know about that one sweetheart. That’s a lot of ice-”

“Of course you can!”

“Paige!” Azzi hisses. 

“And you’ll push me on the swing at the park for twenty minutes?”

“I’ll even push you for thirty minutes if you want,” Paige says and Azzi rolls her eyes. 

“Just had to one-up it didn’t you Bueckers,” she mutters under her breath. 

“And even though Miss Buecks said she’d get me fries at the park, I can get In-N-Out for dinner too?”

“You’re pushing it Stephie-bean-”

“In-N-Out for dinner sounds perfect,” Paige winks at Stephie as a full smile finally overtakes the little girl’s face. 

“You’re hopeless,” Azzi chides the blonde, throwing her hands up exasperatedly but there’s no denying the grin on her face as she looks back at Stephie, “is that all your highness? Are we finally forgiven or did you want to ask us for more unhealthy things?”

“Just one more thing,” Stephie’s eyes twinkle with mischief, “Miss Buecks has to sleepover tonight too.”

Paige and Azzi share a toothy smile with each other before turning to the little girl. 

“I think that could be arranged.”

The words are barely out of Paige’s mouth before Stephie goes tumbling into her and Azzi, tiny arms somehow wrapping around both of their necks as she pulls them into a group hug. The two adults laugh, cocooning the little girl in between them as she rambles on about how excited she is.  And Paige thinks that when all is said and done, when she looks back on her life, she’ll remember this moment as the one where everything started to finally come together. Right now, with Stephie's arms wrapped around her neck and Azzi’s hands curling around the little girl’s back to intertwine their fingers together, this moment here feels perfect. This moment feels like it belongs to Paige.

[munson-blurbs]

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12

Summary: After you attend Harris's birthday party, Eddie's forced to confront some big feelings, and a Valentine's date has the two of you navigating a much different type of big feeling.

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), oral (f! receiving), fingering, protected p in v, slight breeding kink, very fluffy smut, brief mention of parental abandonment

WC: 8.6k

Chapter 12/20

Eddie's card credit to @girlwiththerubyslippers Mixtape credit to @lofaewrites Divider credit to @saradika

The mingled scents of wood polisher, stale cigarette smoke, and old frying oil invade your nostrils the second you step into Hawkins Lanes. Bowling balls thud as they make contact with the fiberglass lanes, subsequently crashing into the waiting pins. You offer a smile at the exasperated teenager clearly nursing a hangover, holding back a dry heave as he sprays a pair of red and blue shoes with a can of deodorizer that, given the undertones of pungent sweat permeating the air, is likely well past expired.

“I’m here for Harris Munson’s birthday party?” It comes out like a question rather than a definitive statement, and you hold up the gift bag in your hand like it’s some kind of evidence.

The teenager jerks a thumb towards the back left of the building, not bothering to look up. “Party room’s down there,” he mumbles, and you thank him as you walk along the pink and purple carpet.

You’ve arrived a little early, hoping to steal a few moments with Eddie before the chaos of the day begins. Wayne is the only one in the small room, stretching to hang up a sign proudly declaring ‘Happy Birthday,’ each letter a different color of the rainbow. He grins when he sees you approaching, and you hold one end of the sign in place as he adheres it to the door frame with Scotch tape.

“Good to see y’again, darlin’.” Wayne greets you with a grin, taping your side of the banner. 

You put your arm down and return his smile. “You, too!” you chirp, glancing around the room. “Where can I put Harris’s present?”

The older man points to an empty table off to the side. “Right over there should be good,” he figures aloud. “Ed just took Harris to the little boys’ room, but they’ll letcha know otherwise.”

You nod, gently placing the bright yellow bag atop a table covered with a Hot Wheels-themed cloth. Amusement dances on your lips at the realization that Eddie must have splurged on decorations; it’s far better quality than one from the local 99-cent store. 

“Ms. Sweetheart! You’re at my birthday party!” Harris’s enthusiastic voice captures your attention, and you spin around just as he’s launching himself into your arms. A tiny human rocketship. 

“I am!” You laugh, motioning towards the gift table, “and I left your present over there.” 

Harris’s face lights up and he starts towards it, arms outstretched and ready to tear through the tissue paper, but the sound of his dad clearing his throat stops him in his tracks. 

“Remember,” Eddie says, keeping his tone calm but firm, “we’re gonna open everything once all your friends are here, after we eat cake.”

Harris juts out his lower lip in a pout. “But Daddy,” he protests, “I wanna open it now!” He stomps his foot indignantly, and you have to suppress a laugh at how silly it looks with the clown-esque bowling shoe on. 

“Harris, can you wait until you open the ones from your friends?” You phrase it like a favor, hoping to appeal to him that way. “I’m really excited about what I got you and I want them to see you open it, too.” Of course, you couldn’t care less about what a bunch of random four- and five-year-olds think about your gift, but you had to think quickly before the whine escalated to a tantrum. 

He releases a sigh of exasperation but ultimately concedes. “Okay, I guess I can wait.”

Eddie mouths thank you and winks as the four of you walk out to the lanes to wait for Harris’s friends. You feel a hand slip into yours, too small to be Eddie’s, and beam when Harris looks up at you with pure joy.

“Daddy! Grampa Wayne! I’m holding Ms. Sweetheart’s hand!” he exclaims, baby teeth on full display

Eddie ruffles Harris's hair. “I’m jealous.” If prompted, he’ll claim that he’s envious that his son chose to hold your hand instead of his. But you and him–and Wayne, let’s be real–know the real meaning behind his statement.

As Harris’s friends arrive and the birthday boy greets each of them with a hug, you and Eddie spring into action and line them up to get fitted for shoes. There are five kids, three boys and two girls, and though you recognize them as Ms. Marion’s students, you don’t know any of them by name. The bowling shoe laces are flimsy, and a few of them struggle with the fine motor skills necessary to tie them.

“Can I help you with that?” you ask one boy, who nods and extends his leg towards you. You crouch down and rest his foot on your knee as you double-knot the laces. When you finish, you look up to see that the rest of the kids have formed a line for your shoe-tying expertise.

Eddie returns from dropping off the guests’ gifts in the party room, laughing when he stumbles upon the queue of children. “You don’t have to do all that, Sweetheart,” he tells you, using his hands to assess the weight of different bowling balls before distributing them to the kids.

You shrug as you finish tying the last shoes. “I don’t mind.”

Eddie has reserved two lanes for the party, and before anyone can figure out who will be bowling where, Harris is tugging on his Black Sabbath t-shirt.

“We wanna play in teams,” he reports matter-of-factly. You’re not sure who ‘we’ refers to, since you didn’t see him corroborating with any of his friends, but you don’t question it aloud. “Team Harris and Team Daddy.”

Eddie gasps with feigned offense, bringing his palm to his heart. “What? You don’t want me on your team?”

“Nope.” Harris shakes his head, curls swaying back and forth. “I want Ms. Sweetheart on my team.” He pauses as he glances around the group, eyes brightening when his gaze lands on the eldest Munson. “You can have Grampa Wayne.”

“Old man’s probably gonna break a hip.” Eddie grumbles teasingly, picking up a red marbled bowling ball and hoisting it up to his chest.

Wayne scratches the top of his head. “And yet I can still kick your ass.” He keeps his voice low so that little ears can’t hear, but you and Eddie can, and you tuck your lips into your mouth so none of the kids catch on.

Harris is up first, squatting down and using two hands to roll the ball down the lane. His method proves to be somewhat effective when he knocks down a few pins, and the scoreboard screen flashes a giant number 5. 

“That’s how many years I am!” Harris proudly announces, skipping back to where the rest of his team is standing. He cocks his head at the ball return’s open mouth for the neon green ball that Eddie had handed him earlier, eagerly scooping it up when he spots it. Assuming the same stance, he once again rolls the ball and successfully topples two more pins.

Eddie raises his brows incredulously. “Hmm, let me try that strategy.”

“I don’t think there’s enough pins for all of your years,” you quip, and Eddie sticks out his tongue in your direction before mimicking Harris’s approach, knees aligned with his toes. He draws the ball back between his legs and releases it a few inches ahead of him, smirking as it cascades down the lane.

His cockiness is apparently earned, since he gets a strike. He attempts a victory moonwalk, clumsily dragging one foot behind the other in a manner that would make Michael Jackson regret ever making the move popular. The heel of his shoe catches on the floor and he stumbles backwards, landing on his ass.

The kids burst out into peals of laughter, and you and Wayne join in once it is evident that Eddie’s not hurt, only embarrassed. You stoop down, clutching your ball between your palms as you grin. “That’s what you get for gloating,” you whisper in his ear, a joking lilt in your voice. “Try setting a good example for the kids next time.”

Unbeknownst to you, one of the kids, Kelly, strikes up a conversation with Harris while you’re up to bowl. “Is that your mommy?” she asks him, strawberry blonde pigtails softly swishing as she looks over at you.

“No, but she’s gonna be my mommy soon!” Harris replies happily. “She and my daddy are gonna fall in love and then she’ll be my mommy.” His voice lowers as concern mars his words. “But don’t tell anyone, okay? Because it’s my birthday cake wish and I need it to come true.”

Kelly nods, taking this obligation seriously, and she averts her gaze when she spots you walking back to the ball return. Since you’d only knocked down eight pins, you take another turn, slipping your thumb, middle, and ring fingers into the holes, frowning when you don’t get the spare you’d hoped for. 

Harris’s chipperness brings a smile back to your face. “Ms. Sweetheart, can you teach me how to bowl like a grown-up?” He blinks a few times, hammering in his naturally docile nature.

“Of course!”

When it’s Harris’s turn again, Eddie watches you go up with him. It’s noisy, but he zeros in on your sweet tone among the clattering of bowling pins and cacophonous conversations.

“See, you put your middle finger and ring finger here, and your thumb here,” you’re gently explaining. “And then you lift the ball back just a bit, bring it forward, and let it go.” You go through all of the motions without actually letting go of the ball, Harris’s eyes glued to your every move. “You try.”

Harris follows your instructions, pink tongue poking from his mouth in sheer concentration, and knocks down a single pin. Eddie braces himself for his disappointment, maybe even escalation to a tantrum, so he’s pleased when his son spins back with a wide, toothy smile.

“I did it! I knocked it down!”

“You’re amazing! I’m so proud of you, Harris.” Eddie’s posture softens as Harris runs into your arms and gives you a giant hug, tiny fingers digging into your biceps as he squishes the side of his face just below your collarbones. When he does this, Eddie notices that Harris’s cheeks have lost some of their chubbiness; his son’s baby-like features subtly disappearing to make way for attributes of the older child he’s growing into. It brings a slight pang to his heart, and he swallows the emotion and focuses instead on the bonding moment between you and the not-so-little boy.

There’s a shared love; more than that, there’s trust. Harris knows he can rely on you to teach him with kindness and patience, that you won’t berate him or yell at him for doing something incorrectly. You’re his Ms. Sweetheart.

Wayne takes note of the goofy smile adorning his nephew’s face, nudging him before he drops the bowling ball on his foot. “I know you’re in love with her, but she ain’t worth losing your toes over.”

Eddie’s face flushes pink, the tips of his ears burning now that he's been caught. “I’m not in love with her, Wayne.” At least, I didn’t think I was yet, but now I might be.

“Whatever you say,” Wayne mutters under his breath, taking careful steps towards the lane. “You, uh, might wanna wipe the drool from your chin before you take your turn, though.”

Team Harris ultimately wins, mostly because Wayne throws the game so the birthday boy can have a victorious moment. You, Eddie, and Wayne quickly corral the kids into the party room, seating them at a large rectangular table for cake and presents before anyone can take offense over the game results. The three of you breathe silent sighs of relief when you easily shift their focus to the next activity.

Eddie pulls his lighter from his back pocket, flicking it on and lighting the five thin blue and white striped candles unevenly jabbed through the chocolate frosted homemade cake. He picks up the plate, supporting it from the bottom as he leads the group in a hilariously off-key rendition of Happy Birthday.

Harris squeezes his eyes shut before blowing out the flames with gusto, a big grin on his face when he opens them again.

Feeling a hand clap on his shoulder, Eddie swivels his body to see his uncle armed with a disposable Kodak camera. “Let me get a picture of you and the birthday boy,” Wayne insists, peering through the little viewfinder and snapping a photo. Eddie’s crouched down, right arm slung over Harris’s shoulders. Both of them wear matching smiles; the only difference is that Harris is still sporting his baby teeth. 

“Now Ms. Sweetheart!” the little Munson declares. Eddie goes to leave, pressing his palms to his knees and standing up, but Harris grabs his wrist and pulls him back. “No, Daddy. You and me and Ms. Sweetheart together!”

You shuffle over to stand on Harris’s other side. When you place your hand on his upper back, Eddie’s slides over yours, the two of you and Harris chiming “cheese!” in enthusiastic unison. 

Blinking from the brightness of the flash, you extend your arm and make a ‘gimme’ motion with your hand. “Let me get one of the three of you,” you say to Wayne, who begrudgingly places the camera in your outstretched palm. 

Eddie pulls him in closer. “Alright, Munson men. Flex those muscles!” You giggle as the three of them bend their arms to show off whatever biceps they have. 

“Ms. Sweetheart, who’s got the biggest muscles?” Harris asks as you lower the camera. 

You scrunch up your nose as though seriously contemplating the question. “Um, me, obviously!” You smack your own bicep, sending Harris into hysterics.

“That’s so silly!” he cackles, glancing up at Eddie. “Daddy, isn’t Ms. Sweetheart so silly?”

You expect him to agree with his son, but he just puts his hands on his shoulders and gives a quick squeeze as he says, “Nah, she’s the strongest person I know.” Your stomach flip-flops when he peers at you through his impossibly long lashes. He picks up the plate and brings it over to the smaller, empty table. “Let’s cut this cake before the kids start revolting.”

The two of you use plastic knives and forks to divide the cake into slivers and toss them onto paper plates. Once all of the kids have their slices, Eddie licks the excess frosting from his fingers and hands you a plate. 

“Havin’ fun?” He carefully wraps the question in a joking tone, but you can tell that he’s genuinely curious about whether you’re enjoying yourself. 

You spear a piece of your slice with the plastic fork. “I am, actually.” The chocolate melts in your mouth, and your tongue glides over your lips to catch any crumbs. “I haven’t been bowling since I was a kid.”

“And it shows,” he teases, wincing when you flick his cheek. “Hey, now—violence is never the answer. What values are you instilling in these impressionable young minds?”

Harris pops up from his seat, waving an empty plate. Whatever cake bits were left on it have tumbled to the floor. “Daddy, I’m done! Can I open my presents now?”

“Jesus, did you inhale that thing?” Eddie wonders aloud, but ultimately agrees. He grabs a bunch of thin napkins and wipes Harris’s hands and face, laughing when the boy sputters as the paper presses against his lips. “Har Bear, you don’t wanna get your presents all messy.”

Once he’s all cleaned up, Harris grabs each of the gifts and brings them to his seat at the head of the table. He tears through brightly colored wrapping paper at lightning speed. Eddie tries to keep track of who gave what as his son unveils a Hot Wheels track from Charlie and his brother Brendan, a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle action figure from Kelly, a G.I. Joe from Emma, and—regrettably—a tub of Gak from Zachary. He makes a mental note to pick up a harmonica or a kazoo or something else noisy when that kid’s birthday rolls around. 

The last gift left is from you, and you twiddle your thumbs as you await Harris’s reaction. Should I have gotten him a toy?

“It’s a stencil kit,” you feel the need to explain, as though you wouldn’t be able to handle the embarrassment of him asking what it is. “So you can trace shapes for your art. It’s got all different ones: food, animals, holidays…” You clamp your mouth shut, willing yourself to stop talking. 

Your panic is short-lived; Harris’s brown eyes light up as he runs to you and wraps his arms around your legs in another giant hug. “I’m gonna draw you so much things!” he promises, gazing up at you excitedly. 

“I can’t wait to see what you make me.” A drawing from Harris holds a deeper meaning than you ever realized. It’s more than a simple display of creativity; it’s a symbol of love and acceptance into his life. 

He looks at his dad now with pleading eyes. “Can Ms. Sweetheart come to our house after the party so I can draw her a picture? Please?” He stretches out the last word so that it has at least five syllables. 

Eddie looks at you expectantly, a timid smile on his lips. “Well?”

“I think that’s a great idea.” Your response earns you another quick squeeze from Harris before he darts back to his seat to further inspect his gifts. 

Eddie’s warm voice is low in your ear, his fingertips ghosting the small of your back in a manner that lets you—and only you—know how starved he is for touch. “And you can help me get rid of that slime thing, too.”

Once the party has ended and you, Eddie, and Harris are back at their apartment, the cherubic boy takes the stenciling kit into his room. 

“I’m gonna do art in here so you can’t peek,” he declares, clutching the kit to his chest as though there’s already something to hide. 

Eddie chuckles, raking a hand through his curls. “Okay, bud. We’ll be out here, watching TV. You go be a little artíst.”

Once he hears the bedroom door click shut, Eddie puts the TV on a random channel and plops on the couch with a soft oof. You sit down next to him and he puts his arm around you, allowing you to snuggle in closer. The shirt fabric against his underarms is slightly damp with the day’s sweat, but you’re far too comfortable to even consider it an issue. 

Your unsuccessful attempt at stifling a yawn has Eddie grinning. “Can’t hang with the kids anymore?” he goads, lips flush against your scalp. 

“It’s exhausting being on the winning team,” you playfully retort, adding in an over-the -top fake yawn to drive home your point. “Not that you would know.”

“Oh, yeah?” He pulls you closer to pepper kisses across your neck and cheek until you’re a giggling mess. Satisfied with his handiwork, he allows himself to sink deeper into the cushions and lets out a yawn of his own. 

You rest your head on his shoulder, gently brushing his curls back so they’re not in your eyes. A hum of contentment escapes you as you fully relax for the first time today. 

You feel a slight nudge on your chin as Eddie tilts it upwards and kisses your lips. The gloss you’d applied before the party is long gone, a casualty of conversation and cake consumption, but he has no complaints. 

“Been wanting to do this all day,” he murmurs, shooting shivers down your spine. “And when I saw you helping Harris? Baby, I just…” he searches for accurate words. Nothing he can think of seems to fully convey the depth of his feelings, but he tries his best. “I’m so fucking lucky. We’re so fucking lucky.”

The feeling of your body against his relaxes him further; a marvelous white noise replaces the plethora of overanalyzed problems constantly buzzing through his brain. The heaviness of sleep falls over both of you, and you shift your body even closer to his in a primitive quest for the safety his presence brings. Whatever show is on the fuzzy TV set is now a dull hum until it’s muted by the dreams your subconscious brings.

Eddie only stirs fifteen minutes later when the bedroom door hinges give a soft squeak, ears trained to pick up on Harris’s innocuous noises that often precede chaos. Grogginess overpowers attentiveness, so he misses the smile on his son’s face and the way he whispers, “my birthday wish is coming true.”

Gray clouds cover Hawkins the next day, drenching the small town in cold rain. And while Eddie is certainly grateful that it’s not snowing, this means that he has to find indoor activities to keep his endlessly energetic son occupied. 

Luckily, Harris is still enamored with his birthday gifts, particularly the stenciling kit you’d given him. He sits at the kitchen table now, tracing an outline of a cow on a Valentine for his classmate. Eddie’s not quite sure of the correlation between the animal and the holiday, but he’s learned that some battles are best left unfought.

 “That looks great, Har Bear.”

“I know.” Harris agrees, not looking up from his drawing as he says, “Daddy, you should make a Valentime for Ms. Sweetheart.” Before Eddie can answer, Harris slides over a piece of red paper and a black marker.

“I should, huh?” Remembering a trick he learned back in elementary school, Eddie folds the paper and draws half of a heart against the crease. He has to use Harris’s blunted safety scissors, much too small for his fingers, to cut the paper. Pleased when he sees that it actually resembles a heart, Eddie taps the marker against his dimpled chin as he contemplates what to write. “You really like Ms. Sweetheart, don’t you?”

Harris nods, putting down the blue marker he’s using and reaching for an orange one. “Mhm. I love her, Daddy.”

Eddie’s heart soars at the confirmation of Harris’s adoration of you, but he tries not to make it obvious. “That’s, uh, that’s good.” He finally decides on a simple message: Be Mine, and he signs his name underneath with a dash. It feels a little less impersonal than “from,” but isn’t as strong as “love.” Do I love her? He wonders. No, it’s only been one date. He can’t fall in love this quickly. It’s not possible. “How’s this? Be mine,” he reads aloud, underlining each word with his finger.

“Oh, I like that.” Harris picks up a green marker and writes the same two words on a pink sheet of paper. The letters are a little too big for the paper’s limited space, and he ends up squishing the “e” in “mine” very close to the edge. “How do you spell ‘mommy’?”

Eddie’s throat goes bone-dry. “You wanna make a card for your mom?” Harris has never wanted to make anything for his mom before; never brought her up, really, but maybe that was changing now that he was in school and surrounded by children with present mothers.

But Harris shakes his head. “No, it’s for Ms. Sweetheart. I wanna write ‘Be Mine Mommy.’”

It takes Eddie a second to realize that Harris means “be my mommy,” and he massages the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. “Um, Har, you can’t just ask her to be your mom.”

“Why not?”

He doesn’t want to tell Harris that wants to make sure you’ll stick around, nor does he want to make a promise neither one of you can keep. “Because you…you just can’t, okay?” It comes out harshly, and he sputters to fix his tone when he sees Harris’s lower lip quiver.

“But it’s not fair! You didn’t have a daddy, so you got Grampa Wayne as your daddy. I don’t have a mommy, so I want Ms. Sweetheart as my mommy!”

Eddie flash backs to their zoo trip, when Harris had innocently asked him if Wayne had taken him out on father-son days. There’s no child-friendly way to articulate that Wayne had initially been legally obligated to act as his guardian. “I know, bud. I know you do–”

“Then why can’t I ask her?” His expression shifts from anger to confusion, brows pinching together.

Because she could say no, Eddie thinks. Because the responsibility of being a mommy was too much for your biological mother to handle; why would Ms. Sweetheart take it on? What if she doesn’t have a problem being your mommy, but she finds issue with the idea of being connected to me?

He takes a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. “Look, Har. I know you want her to be your mommy. And between you and me, I’d love for her to be your mommy, too.”

“But–”

“But, grown up feelings are weird sometimes,” he presses on, borrowing your verbiage from Thanksgiving, “and feelings like love take time. But I’m gonna make you a promise right now.” He sticks out his pinky finger. “I promise that if me and Ms. Sweetheart fall in love, I’ll tell you, and I’ll let you ask her to be your mommy. Is that a deal?”

Harris looks dubious, but ultimately hooks his pinky around his dad’s. Eddie breathes a sigh of relief that the crisis has been averted for now.

“Before we can ask her to be your mommy,” Eddie continues, “I need to figure out the perfect Valentine’s Day date to impress her. Wanna help?”

Harris purses his lips in concentration, resting his chin in his hand. “How about McDonald’s? They have a ball pit!”

Eddie has to tuck his lips into his mouth to keep from laughing out loud. “A definite contender,” he finally manages. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

Friday night. Valentine’s Day. 

You had been unsure whether Eddie wanted to do anything for the holiday; your relationship was still so fresh, and you didn’t want him to feel pressured. When he crept into your classroom Monday morning with a coffee and a heart-shaped note—far more conspicuous than he’d intended to be—you couldn’t hide the excitement on your face. 

The card reads Be Mine and currently resides under a magnet on your fridge, finding a home among the plethora of drawings from Harris. It’s got some creases in it that Eddie had explained were the result of Harris shoving it into his backpack that morning. You thought it was perfect as is. 

“Are you free on Friday? For Valentine’s Day?” he’d asked, shoving his hands in his jean pockets. When you answered in the affirmative, he visibly relaxed. “Great. I’m taking you out.” His smile lights up his face. “Wear something that you don’t mind getting messy, and I’ll pick you up at 6.”

You’d wanted to try and pry more information from him, but Carol Perkins and her son Frankie walked in just then, and you’d put away the heart as quickly as you could as Eddie scrambles from the classroom. 

You stand in your bedroom now in your Levis 501s and a fuzzy red sweater, taking one last look at your makeup in the mirror reflection. You scrape your fingernail along the bottom of your lip to wipe off any excess gloss. Underneath your outfit is a special surprise, wishful thinking if the night goes well.

At 5:55, you sling your pocketbook over your shoulder and make your way down to the lobby. You spot Eddie the moment you step out from the elevator. He’s pacing, hands shoved in his dark wash denim pockets and lower lip pinched between his teeth.

Your voice draws him from his thoughts. “Happy Valentine’s Day, baby,” you say, wrapping your arms around his waist and pulling him so your stomachs touch. “You look really, really handsome.”

“You’re…you’re beautiful.” He’s almost breathless as he says it, eyes roaming down your body and taking in the view. The way your sweater drapes the slope of your breasts has his heart leaping into his throat. He kisses you slowly before proclaiming, “My beautiful Valentine.”

You reach into your purse and pull out a tiny red gift bag, letting it sway and dangle from your fingertips. “I got you a little something.”

The tissue paper crinkles as Eddie rifles through it to pull out a silver lighter, much heavier in his palm than the usual plastic Bic he uses. “Sweetheart, this is…” He takes a closer look and reads aloud the engraved words etched on the front. “Fill my heart with song…”

“It’s from Fly Me to the Moon. Because of Thanksgiving, when you played the record, and Grandma…” you trail off, not wanting to get choked up, “and because you’re a rockstar. My rockstar.” You kiss his lips again, feeling his palm softly cup your cheek.

“I have something for you, too. Um, I didn’t get to wrap it, but I hope you like it.” He unzips his jacket, exposing the gray t-shirt clinging to his pecs. He digs into the inner pocket and clutches a cassette tape, handwritten label stating,“Ms. Sweetheart’s Mix.”

“‘S nothin’ crazy, just some songs that remind me of you.” There’s an array of genres and artists on there. Guns ‘N Roses, of course, as well as Frank Sinatra. There’s Def Leppard’s Pour Some Sugar on Me, Un-Break My Heart by Toni Braxton, and a plethora of songs with ‘sweetheart’ in the title: Bob Dylan’s Sweetheart Like You, Bing Crosby’s Let Me Call You Sweetheart, The Spaniels’ Goodnight Sweetheart Goodnight. 

Tears prickle along your lash line, and you blink them away before you smudge your mascara. “Thank you, Eddie. I love it.” You hold the gift in two hands, giving it a small shake to emphasize your excitement.

A small pang in his chest has Eddie realizing that he wishes you’d ended that statement with you instead of it, but he tries to shove the thought down by kissing you, tongue parting your lips, hand traveling up your side. His hands aren’t even touching skin, only your sweater, yet it’s so electrifying that you feel your thighs clench in wanting.

“C’mon,” you urge him gently, “let’s go on this date before we end up making out in the lobby all night.”

Eddie cocks his head. “Would that be such a bad thing?”

“Eddie…” Truthfully, you’re thinking the same thing, but your desire for a romantic Valentine’s Day date with him propels you towards the door. You take his hand so he dutifully follows.

“Fine,” he relents with an exaggerated sigh, smile showing off the soft dimples in his cheeks. “But only because you’ve got me wrapped around your little finger, y’know that?”

“Oh, I know.”

Twenty minutes later, Eddie’s car pulls up to The Novice Chef. You’ve never been–taking care of Grandma didn’t allot you much time for hobbies–but Jess has told you about their incredible cooking classes. She and Robin went to one right before Thanksgiving and insisted that they’d perfected the art of turkey basting.

“Figured we could learn how to make pizza since we’re basically funding the local Surfer Boy,” Eddie grins, turning the key in the ignition. The car stills and the two of you unbuckle your seatbelts, pushing open the car doors. “Just, uh, no olives on my half.”

You find an unoccupied cooking station with two aprons on it, the venue’s cursive logo displayed on the front in an eager advertisement. You slip one over your head and Eddie does the same, twirling his finger in a turn around motion. You feel the brush of his fingers on the small of your back as he ties the strings in a bow. After returning the favor for him, you squeeze his waist, giggling when he yelps in surprise.

“What was that for?”

“I dunno; you’re just really squeezable.”

Eddie just shakes his head, already missing your touch after that brief moment. He slides a rubber band down his wrist and ties his hair in a bun at the nape of his neck before slipping his rings off of his fingers. He flexes his hands, almost taken aback by their nakedness, and you suppress a heaving sigh when you catch sight of the protruding veins, dark purple snakes that disappear amongst soft arm hair.

“All right everyone, let’s get started.” The unfamiliar voice brings your attention to the front of the room, where the instructor is standing behind his own station. “My name’s Argyle, and I’ll be your tour guide on our journey through Flavortown.” He claps his hands and rubs them together. “First thing we’re gonna do is knead the dough.” He gives a demonstration and then invites the class to try on their own.

“Damn, that dude has some badass hair,” Eddie muses, noting the man’s long raven locks that are pulled back into a waist-length ponytail. He nods approvingly and flips the silver bowl of dough onto the table. A small puff of flour rises as it hits the surface with a thwack, and you’re very glad you’d heeded his warning not to wear something new.

Eddie presses the heel of his palm into the dough, kneading it with precision. Flatten, stretch, flatten, stretch, until he’s satisfied with the consistency. He shapes it into a thin circle, fingertips digging into the edges to form the crust. The movements are hypnotizing, and it’s not until he clears his throat that you bashfully realize you’ve been staring.

“Y’good, Sweetheart?” A sly, knowing grin stretches from one cheek to the other; now you’re certain that he’s caught you.

“Y-Yeah.”

The next step is to spread the sauce onto the dough, Argyle explains, and Eddie places the crust onto the pan and steps aside so you can take over. You dip the ladle into the pot, filling it to the brim. Bits of dried basil and oregano swim in a red tomato sea as you use the ladle’s base to evenly distribute it across the crust. 

“Y’got a little somethin’ on your face.” Eddie whispers in your ear, making you stop mid-swirl. 

“Huh? Where?” You use the back of your free hand to wipe at your cheeks and chin for any sauce that may have splattered, but a close inspection shows nothing. 

Eddie leans over you, his chest flush against your back. You fight the urge to press the curve of your ass to the seam of his jeans, wiping a sweat-slick palm on your apron. “Right…” he swipes his finger down the ladle’s curved side, catching some sauce and dotting it on the tip of your nose, “here.”

“Eddie!”

“Don’t worry; I’ve got it.” He leans over and licks the sauce off, a quick lap of his tongue on your skin. The unexpected sensation makes you giggle louder than you’d intended. You clap a hand over your mouth, surely smudging the gloss, but you’ve already drawn the instructor’s unwanted attention.

“Lovebirds, are we here to flirt or to make pizza?” Argyle punctuates his rhetorical question with an exasperated sigh. You duck your head in shame and Eddie just coughs to stifle his own mischievous laughter.

“All right, now for the cheese,” Argyle continues, dipping a hand into a glass bowl and retrieving the ingredient. “Some people think that ya just pile it on; the more cheese, the better, but there’s an art to–hey, not cool, man!” He’s looking right at Eddie, and you glance over to see your date drop a handful of shredded mozzarella into his open mouth.

“Sorry,” he mumbles through a mouthful of cheese, but you’re willing to bet that his apology is anything but sincere.

Argyle rolls his eyes, not even attempting to hide his irritation. “You got one more strike, and then you’re out.” He points one finger at Eddie and then jerks his thumb backwards to emphasize his point.

“Yes, sir,” Eddie salutes, and you elbow him in the ribs.

Once the cheese has been sprinkled across the sauce–whatever remains after Eddie’s impromptu snack, anyway–you reach for the mushrooms. Eddie’s sharp gasp makes you freeze up before you can grasp any.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he demands, placing his flour-coated hands on his hips.

You flick your gaze from the bowl of mushrooms to his impatient face. “Um, putting toppings on the pizza?”

“Not that one, you’re not,” he argues with a disapproving shake of his head. “Vegetables don’t belong on pizza.” He picks up the bowl of pepperoni and starts layering the slices on top, either unaware or indifferent to the fact that some of them stick together in a double layer of cured meat. “This is more like it.”

You nudge him, triumphantly layering mushrooms around where he’s placed the pepperoni slices. “It’s called compromise, Eddie. It’s how relationships work.”

His jaw drops and he places his hand over his heart like a southern belle who’s just been presented with extraordinary gossip. “Oh, this is a relationship?” He snickers when you give him a small shove. “I had no idea. I just thought we were two friends who make out sometimes.”

“God, I hate you.”

“I hate you, too.”

An hour later, stomachs filled with pizza that might rival Surfer Boy’s, you and Eddie return to your apartment. A tense stillness fills the air when he walks you to your door, daring either of you to speak your mutual desire into existence.

You’re the one to break the silence. “I had an amazing time tonight, Eddie.”

“Yeah?” he asks almost incredulously, as though he doubts the truthfulness behind your words. He pushes the insecurity aside with a joke. “Even though I almost got us kicked out?”

The memory brings a smile to your face, though you would imagine that the annoyed instructor would not share the same sentiment. “I still need to get you back for that.” You lick his nose and giggle, knocking his hand away when he lifts it to his face. “Don’t wipe it off!”

“And what if I do?” Eddie takes a step closer, resting one hand on the small of your back and putting the other on your cheek. He kisses you and you lean into it, pressing your body against his. His tongue parts your lips, and you hook a finger into his belt loop as you melt into each other.

“Do you wanna come in? Or do you have to get back home to Harris?” You’ve pulled the trigger. There’s no turning back now, and though you’re certainly in a healthier place than the last time you’d made this suggestion, the fear of a similar reaction has your heart in your chest.

He shakes his head, nose rubbing against yours. “Wayne’s staying with him tonight.” He omits the fact that his uncle was the one who’d offered to babysit overnight, a not-so-subtle hint at his expectations of Eddie’s evening plans.

“All night?”

“All,” he kisses you again, “night.”

You fumble with your keys and unlock the door, Eddie wrapping his arms around your waist from the back as though he never wants to let go. As soon as you get it open, its grimacing creak mere background noise to the pounding in your ears, you’re kicking off your shoes and pulling Eddie into the bedroom.

Your hands on his shoulders pin him against the door, only moving them to the hem of his shirt to begin tugging it over his head. It proves to be a difficult task as you try keeping your lips on his neck, but he wraps his fingers around your wrists and stops you.

“Been dreamin’ about worshiping this body…you,” he clarifies, pupils blown so wide that they overtake his chocolate irises. “Please,” he adds, a slight break in his voice. His begging starkly contrasts the bravado that dominated his personality the night you’d met. There was no patience or tenderness, just teeth clashing and hands searching for the fastest and easiest way to bring pleasure.

You nod. “I have a surprise for you first.” You take off your sweater, drawing it slowly up your torso to build up the anticipation, and toss it to the side.

Eddie goes slack jawed at the sheer mesh bra that leaves nothing to the imagination, just as you’d expected him to. He quickly snaps his mouth shut and swallows, a last-ditch attempt to salvage his machismo before he fully loses his mind.

“It’s a matching set, if you wanna see.” 

“Uh-huh.” Eddie walks over, pressing kisses to your collarbones that leave your knees weak. His thumbs graze your breasts, slipping the bra straps down and unhooking the clasp. It falls to the ground and he stoops a bit, bringing his mouth to one hardening nipple and sucking it before moving onto the other. “Perfect.” He trails kisses down your stomach, dropping to his knees as he does. “Perfect.” He lifts one hand, kissing each individual finger right on the first knuckle. “So perfect.”

He remains on his knees as his nimble fingers, still cold from the brief walk to your building, unbutton your jeans, and you shimmy out of them eagerly. His eyes widen when he sees that your panties do, in fact, match your bra: a red-tinted mesh thong that has everything on display.

“Baby,” he moans, grabbing one ass cheek in each of his big hands and pressing soft kisses to your clothed pussy. “Baby…f’me?”

“All for you, Eddie.” Your breath hitches when you feel his lips graze your most sensitive spot. He’s not intentionally teasing you, but logic has no place in your current state.

He kisses down your thighs. “Lay down f’me, yeah?” You do as he asks, laying your head down on the pillow as your body sinks into the mattress. Eddie climbs on top of you, slotting one knee between your slightly open legs. He brings his lips to your ear, gently biting your earlobe and singing in a low murmur, “got it bad, got it bad, got it bad…”

You giggle, the breath from his whisper tickling the shell of your ear, and you tilt your head slightly so you can see his face. “Can I undress you now?” He nods, and you wrestle with his shirt to expose the pale expanse of skin. There’s a dusting of curls across his chest, thicker in the middle and thinner around his nipples. You plant a kiss on his left bicep and drag your palm down his tummy, practically concave during his teenage years but now has a slight softness to it, stopping when you reach the bulge in his pants. He groans at your touch, and you feel his cock twitch slightly. Eager to alleviate his pent-up energy, you undo the button and tug down his zipper, cupping his erection through his navy blue boxers.

“Not yet,” Eddie mumbles, “not done showing you how much I l–care about you. How much you mean to me.” With a burning in his cheeks from what he’d nearly admitted, he drags your thong, a wet patch formed on it, down your thighs and past your calves until it drops to the ground unceremoniously. He balances your legs on top of his shoulders and pulls himself in closer, nudging your clit with his nose as he licks a stripe up your folds. His lips wrap around your sensitive bud, brushing it with his tongue. Soft brown eyes peer up at you, desperately seeking your approval.

“F-Feels good,” you manage, words caught in your throat as pleasure seeps into your body. “Please keep going.”

Eddie needs no further convincing, reveling in your growing wetness against his face while slipping his middle finger into your pussy. You whimper at the feeling of him inside you, bracing yourself for a comment about how needy you are, but he just continues to draw you closer to your orgasm. His finger glides in and out, in and out, rhythmic but not too slow. The bed shifts ever-so-slightly, and you realize he’s rutting his hips against the mattress, desperate for relief.

Your hand finds purchase in the curls adorning his scalp, digging your fingers into them and giving a small tug. Eddie lets a second finger into your tight hole, curling them upwards and hitting your sweet spot over and over.

“Right there, th-that’s it, please, Eddie,” you beg, your moans barely audible over the sounds of him fervently fingering you and lapping at your cunt. “Fuck, Eddie, ‘m gonna cum!”

Eddie just lets out an “mmm,” in acknowledgment, the vibrations shooting through your core and bringing you right to the edge. Your release overtakes you and your thighs instinctively squeeze against either side of his head. He makes a mental note to ask you not to do that because he absolutely needs to hear every noise you make while you cum.

“Y’good?” he asks as you drift down from the high, still perched between your legs. He wipes his slick-glistened lips with the back of his hand before licking the taste of you from his fingers. “I can keep going, trust me.”

“Need you closer.” You try to sit up, but your legs fail you, and you flop back onto the bed. “I have condoms in the top drawer–”

“Brought my own,” he grins, reaching into his back pocket–now positioned just under his ass from the way he’d dry humped the bed–and pulls out three connected foil packages. “Ribbed, for her pleasure.”

“Such a gentleman,” you tease, but it’s the truth. The way he took care of you, made sure you were okay after, offered to continue eating you out despite the raging hard-on he’s sporting…his chivalry isn't lost on you. You watch as he strips down until his body is rid of any clothing, tearing one wrapper and rolling the rubber down his cock, and you bite your lip in anticipation of its delicious stretch. 

There’s an unspoken disappointment at the addition of the barrier, regardless of its practicality. You want to be as close as you possibly can without anything in the way, but neither of you are in any rush to give Harris a sibling.

Imagine it, though, Eddie can’t stop himself from thinking. Imagine the intimacy of filling her up every night until she’s carrying my baby. Taking any little bit that drips out and stuffing it back inside to make sure it takes. Imagine kissing her growing bump every morning to greet her and our unborn child.

He puts one thigh on either side of yours, looking into your eyes as he asks, “Yes?”

“Yes.”

Eddie lines up with your entrance, pushing in gently and keeping his gaze trained on the way you take him in. Inch by inch, he disappears into your wanting hole until he bottoms out. He holds your hips while he finds a steady pace, and as soon as you arch your back, he’s slipping his hands around your waist just above the curve of your ass. “I can’t believe you’re mine,” he whispers. “You make me so fucking happy.”

Your hands grasp at his shoulder blades and you kiss him, tongues intertwining while you moan into each other’s mouths. “I’m always yours, if that’s what you want,” you promise, wrapping your legs around his.

“Of course, that’s what I want. Most beautiful girl in the world, asking me if I want her to be mine.” He grins cheekily, burying his head in the crook of your neck and sucking on it lightly before asking, “do you want me to be yours?”

“Yeah,” you exhale as his cock presses against your walls. “Yeah, I want you to be mine.” You smile, moving your hands to the nape of his neck and deepening the kiss. You want to be the only one he touches like this, the one who goes to bed next to him every night and wakes up next to him every morning. The one who celebrates his wins with him and brings comfort during the losses. You want everything that comes with belonging to each other.

Eddie thrusts into you, pulling wanton moans from your lips. “Say my name,” he pleads. “Need to hear you say it.”

“Eddie,” you pant, not able to fathom a single thought beyond the pleasure you’re feeling and who’s bringing it to you. “Eddie, ‘m so close. You feel too…too good.” Good is an understatement; perhaps a more accurate adjective would be euphoric, but finding a more elaborate term is low on your priority list.

Eddie’s peak is not far behind, with the feeling of your warmth around him bringing him closer every second. “Always wanna make y’feel good, baby,” he says. His face hovers just above yours, a bead of sweat sliding down the bridge of his nose onto the tip of yours. “I gotta–”

“Cum for me, Eddie,” you tell him, and with your permission, he pistons his hips a final time and spills into the condom. Your walls contract around his length as you finish with him.

Eddie stays inside you as the two of you catch your breath, smiling and stealing kisses from each other. He’s never felt anything like this before; for him, the thrill of sex is typically fueled purely by the primal instinct to get laid, but he’s in no rush to let you go. His cock begins to soften and he slowly pulls out, chuckling when you whine at the loss of fullness.

“Gotta toss this,” he says, removing the condom with a soft hiss and tying a knot. “Then I’m gonna hold you, mmkay?” Part of him is waiting for the post-sex adrenaline to wear off and the inevitable crash down when he realizes he’s mistaken lust for passion, urgency for belonging, but that doesn’t happen. As much as he’d love to be inside you again, hearing and feeling your satisfaction as you unravel for him, what he wants more than anything is to lay next to you and keep you safe. Safe from what, exactly, he’s not sure, but something compels him to protect you.

He takes you in his arms, the two of you a tangled, sweaty mess of naked limbs. Perspiration mats his sparse chest hair to his skin, but you press your cheek to it anyway and breathe in his scent. Your body grows heavier as sleep overtakes you, but Eddie’s low voice pulls you back for just a second.

“Baby?”

“Hmm?”

I love you. The words want to flow freely but come to a screeching halt on the tip of his tongue. It’s only your second date, and his mind is clouded with the sappiness of Valentine’s Day and oxytocin; what if he just thinks he loves you? Or what if he truly does, but you don’t feel the same way? Would you tell him, or would you pretend to reciprocate to spare him the hurt? Which is worse?

I love you. But it’s too soon to feel that, to know it for certain. And if he rushes things, he’ll get Harris’s hopes up–get his own hopes up–only to be met with heartbreak and disappointment.

I love you. And what would that admission accomplish, anyway? Where would you go from there? What would it change?

“Get some rest,” is what he settles on, biting the inside of his lower lip in shame. He kisses your forehead and watches you drift off, grateful when the exhaustion of the evening hits him and he follows suit.

I love you, is his last thought before he falls asleep, but he convinces himself that he’s not ready to speak it into existence. 

--

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[crazykuroneko]

Claudia's Celebration of Life: Spark in the Dark

As the title suggests, this event is to celebrate the wonderful Claudia; her personality, her aspirations, her journey. The heart for the past two seasons of AMC Interview with The Vampire. This is to take the narrative back to her, proving she's not just a shingle roof for us.

The event will be held for 30 days (from Aug 11th to Sept 9th) with 15 themes. Anyone can join, and you can post whatever you like, from gifsets, meta analysis, fic recs, fanvids, web weaving, fanarts, fanvids, even poems. You can post them on Tumblr, or Tiktok, or AO3 etc. The rule is just one: make sure to tag "#Claudia's Spark in the Dark" and her character tags #Claudia and #AMC Claudia. Let's flood her tags with posts about her again! (plus, please give TW or CW when it's appropriate)

Important point: This event is AMC Claudia & Madeleine focused only. Please try to minimize inclusion of other characters or iterations except when it's on the theme.

Themes and dates are under the cut!

(The order of themes are generated randomly. Feel free to interpret each theme. For the themes with 'OR', you can choose which one you want)

1. Aug 11th & 12th: Hobbies

2. Aug 13th & 14th: Alternate Universe

3. Aug 15th & 16th: Quotes (From TVC books, other cast, Anne Rice about Claudia OR web weaving with other media)

4. Aug 17th & 18th: Family (Her relationship with Louis and/or Lestat OR with the concept of family itself)

5. Aug 19th & 20th: Claudia's Voice and Lack There Of (e.g. Claudia's diaries as her outlet and how they're used by others)

6. Aug 21th & 22nd: As A Caged Bird OR In Solitude (e.g. the limitations Claudia faces as a seemingly 14-year old Black girl OR bird motif)

7. Aug 23rd & 24th: Happiness (Anything as long as Claudia is happy. I just want to see her happy)

8. Aug 25th & 26th: Favorite lines or scenes

9. Aug 27th & 28th: Womanhood OR Childhood (e.g. Claudia's relationship with womanhood OR the still childlike or innocent part of her)

10. Aug 29th & 30th: The Actress(es) (Bailey Bass and/or Delainey Hayles with or without Roxane Duran)

11. Aug 31th & Sept 1th: Finding The X (Claudia's quest in searching for love)

12. Sept 2nd & 3rd: Enduring (e.g. Claudia relentless determination to "make the best out of it" with her vampirism or how the abuse she suffers and witnesses shapes herself and her views)

13. Sept 4th & 5th: Fashion or Costumes

14. Sept 6th & 7th: FREE THEME!

15. Sept 8th & 9th: Claudia & Madeleine

Special thanks to my mutual (you know who you are) who has helped me with the themes.

Update! I also made a submission page available during the event, if that's your preferred way to post.

Feel free to ask by replying under this post or ask me on my account or on my Twitter @itskuronekos

Let's go!

[sen-ya]

Life After Info Post

[Click here to access the Life After Digital Comic Book]

Summary: Two years ago, a viral outbreak rose the dead. Considering how his life had gone up to this point, surgeon Trafalgar Law figured this might as well happen too. When a supply run into the nearby city gets intercepted by a seemingly reckless and impulsive former patient, the dependable routine Law had settled into in this new life shatters. He finds himself exposed — his body out in the infected landscape, his conscious clawing to define what he believes is right, his heart begrudgingly deciding to find a new home on his sleeve. Maybe there’s more than a virus roaming the new world that can bring a dead man back to life.

Content Warnings: Canon typical violence, zombies/body horror (but lbr I am not good at making scary things look scary)

Relationships: Luffy x Law

Update Schedule: New page every Monday/Wednesday/Friday

Page Count: [37 posted | 55 drawn]

Latest Update: [7/21/24] WOWEE did I get myself carried away this morning. I just spent 5 hours organizing my comics and creating the digital comic book pages. I could have spent that time drawing or idk not doing what I do for my job, but I cannot be stopped. Anyway I blocked out 30 pages of this comic last week and they include the most intense action sequence I've ever done in my gotdang life. Wish me luck because I am nervous about tying down all my drawings lmao.

OLD UPDATES:

[6/29/24] HULLO! I'm doing so bad at keeping my masterposts updated lately I am sorry. All pages of life after are tagged life after if you're ever looking between masterpost updates! Also exciting update, I finally have figured out all the different plot points i'm gonna be hitting (yay!). I got hung up on something for awhile that made me not wanna work on this project, but I'm back at it. I think we'll end up with 6-7 parts! I have probably another 80-100 pages to draw lol. Also i got the app Magic Poser and it's AWESOME and I immediately used it to block out sets cuz MAN I hate backgrounds.

[6/10/24] HELLO. I'm sorry I've been shit at updating my masterposts lately. It's easiest to do from my computer, which I rarely use, and life has been happening. I also can't believe I bungled the queue and posted pg19 before pg18 i am very sorry 🤦 Eventually I'll have to turn this into an airtable base I'm sure, but until that day comes where I have like 100 pages of this comic we're stickin to the regular post lmao

[5/26/23] I got real caught up in doing summer of lawlu comics this week and this is the first week since the first week of April I haven't drawn new Life After pages and it feels weird 🙊

[5/19/24] More Luffy backstory comin' this week! :^)

[5/12/24] Updating now so get myself on schedule to update on Sundays like I had been with my other comic master post!

[5/8/24] Thank you to everyone who's liked/reblogged/comment on the first few pages!! It means the world to me that anyone's reading my silly little comics.

[4/28/24] HULLO. It’s happeninnng. I’ve spent the last few weeks working on this comic, and I gotta make this post so I can start queuing pages & link this in them! This is the most like….legit? Comic endeavor I’ve undertaken perhaps….ever. I’m very nervous about committing to how long it will need to be lol. This story is dear to my heart — zombie content is kind of my very favorite. I’ve always found it to be a great backdrop for exploring themes like grief, coping with change, community, and learning to live again. It’ll be a long haul but I hope you’ll ride it out with me!! Tomorrow I’ll be posting the first two pages. After that a page will post every Monday/Wednesday/Friday. As of this post I’ve completed over 20 pages so that I have a good lead on what’s posting and continuing to write, so I’m hopeful that’s a cadence I’ll be able to maintain. I’ll update this post weekly to include the most recent pages the way I do with my main comics master post. All pages will be tagged 'Life After' and I'll tag any pages with zombies in them with 'zombie' for blacklisting etc.

[tin-wufborf]

Tin's Favorite Sterek Fics (Part 14)

Hello, and welcome back to Tin's Favorite Sterek Fics! I truly cannot believe we've reached part 14 of this series, but I have had a lot of fun along the way and am so happy to be able to share all of these wonderful fics with you all!

As ever and always, thank you all so much for your continued support of this series. It continues to blow me away how many of you have liked and shared the previous parts. We'll probably be coming to the end of this series in the relatively near future, but I'm thinking of maybe doing some themed rec lists if anyone would be interested in that? Idk, we'll have to see how I feel when this series is all said and done.

Okay, that's all from me today. I hope you all have as good a day as you can, if not a great one. Oh, and don't forget about that Bad Friend Scott McCall warning.

Smoochies and squeezies!

List and links to previous/next part(s) below the cut.

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DISCLAIMER: This is me warning you all that some of the fics I've included in this list may cover explicit, dark, and/or "taboo" subject matters. I cannot express enough how little I care what anyone thinks about any of that; all I want is for you to use caution when reading anything I've listed here and to please review and heed whatever tags the authors have provided in order to keep yourselves safe. Your experience from this point on is your own responsibility, not mine and not the authors'.

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Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17

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Consigliere by neil4god (NR | 5/5 | 7,042)

It's been years since Danny left Beacon Hills behind and everything that happened in it. He moved on, joined the FBI and forgot all about his junior year of High School. At least he tried, but with Stiles Stilinksi leering at him from the FBI's most wanted board, well that makes it kinda hard to forget, and now they want to know all about it. They want him to talk to Stiles, worse still, they want him to wear a wire while he does it.

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Stilinski Orphanage by pineneedlepants (M | 1/1 | 10,514)

Throughout the short months Derek has been spending at the Stilinski Orphanage, he's come to a few conclusions. One, for the Stilinski's, bullying is a zero tolerance thing. There are hundreds of kids staying under their roof and they want things to be peaceful.

Of course, with that many children in one place, with different backgrounds and ethnicities, not everyone follows this rule. The thing is that because the Stilinski Orphanage is actually very popular and well respected, kids circle in and out in a decently fast cycle. Enforcing the strict no bullying rule isn't always as effective, and so sometimes, these bullies get called to the headmaster's office and then transferred to another orphanage, in a place that's far, far away from Beacon Hills.

Except Derek knows better.

He's pretty sure the Stilinskis eat the 'transferred' bullies. Not that he really cares.

-- Happy Early Halloween!

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Snow Flirting by thepsychicclam (M | 1/1 | 11,396)

As Beacon Hills get pounded with foot after foot of snow, single dad Stiles can't quite keep up with his four year old, his job, and shoveling his driveway. Derek makes his teenage son shovel Stiles' walk, and that just leads to Derek helping Stiles out with a whole bunch of other tasks. That's okay with Derek, though, cause any chance to be with Stiles is okay with him.

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stop, drop, and roll by thepsychicclam (M | 1/1 | 12,237)

Stiles knows he's in trouble when he invites the Beacon Hills Fire Department into his third grade classroom and he can't stop staring at a certain scruffy fireman. But after the third graders take a field trip to the fire station and participate in the fire department's holiday canned food drive, Stiles can't ignore his crush any longer.

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Would You Like to Make a Deal? by the_sporadic_writer (NR | 4/4 | 14,180)

Stiles never meant for everything to spin this far out of his control, never thought it would turn out this bad. Never thought that he would enjoy playing as the resident human and enjoy spending time with a pack of wolves. Never expected to get tangled up with Derek Hale of all people, and never thought that he would have enjoyed their time together.

OR, the story where Stiles is a demon and got more than he bargained for when his boredom got the better of him.

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A Tiny Bit of String by bunnymaccool (T | 1/1 | 14,382)

The pulling of a single bit of string can sometimes, perhaps, unravel the entire piece of knitting.

Sometimes the universe decides it has taken too much... and chooses to give back.

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little boy lost by crazyassmurdererwall (smartalli), smartalli (T | 1/1 | 14,862)

If someone asked Stiles to write a parenting book, Stiles would say the best and most important rule is to love your kid. Just love the hell out of them, and make sure they know it.

The second most important rule would be don’t turn your back on a curious three year old with supernatural speed.

Stiles is currently failing at the second rule. Badly.

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Claudia's Puntastic Life series by JoMouse (6 works | G | 15,410)

1. Holy Guacamole (G | 1/1 | 4,278) Derek runs into an old friend on Halloween. Inspired by that scene of Derek with the kids on Halloween - you know that one. 2. Kiss You Instead (G | 1/1 | 3,712) Derek has been invited to join Stiles and his pun-loving daughter, Claudia, for Christmas cookies and present wrapping. 3. The Happy Couple (G | 1/1 | 2,492) Derek and Claudia decide to surprise Stiles with breakfast in bed, but that's not the only surprise in the works. Day 2 of Sterek Valentine Week 2020. Theme: Breakfast in Bed. 4. It's Lit (G | 1/1 | 2,550) Claudia is scared of fireworks; Derek tries to help out. 5. Full Moon Ficlet #140 - Stir (G | 1/1 | 704) Stiles comes home to a flour-coated kitchen. 6. Spring has Sprung! (G | 1/1 | 1,674) It's Spring and Derek is thinking about the future.

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Keep It Together by ravingrevolution (T | 1/1 | 23,129)

“What if I guess what you are?” Derek asked.

Stiles sighed. “Why do you even think there’s something to guess?”

Derek cocked an eyebrow at him. “You’re taking a cold bath and showing no signs of being chilled. A normal human would be shivering by now and your body temperature hasn’t dropped at all.”

Which, okay, fair point.

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Start Small, Like Oak Trees by SmallBirds (M | 1/1 | 24,237)

The months following Allison's death have passed Stiles by in a haze of monotony. He sleepwalks through days that seem to lose their color, an unwilling passenger in a body he no longer trusts. Eventually, he thinks, he'll just fade away. He isn't sure anyone would notice. Then, during a spur of the moment grocery run, he stumbles upon Derek Hale attempting to console a lost child, and for the first time in recent memory the world doesn't seem so awful. He's not sure what he'd been expecting when he eventually convinces Derek to move into the Stilinski's spare bedroom, but a newfound passion for weeding and topsoil certainly isn't it.

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I found you hidden in plain sight (why'd I take so long?) by Gorgeousgreymatter (E | 7/7 | 25,419)

Stiles is pretty sure he’s hallucinating. He’s got to be. There’s no other plausible explanation, he thinks, as he sits on the sidelines of the lacrosse field and feels the cold, hard bench underneath him, the roar of the crowd at his back like the worst white noise machine in the world.

There’s no other reason why he sees it, the hulking, black figure of a wolf peering at him from the treeline behind the bleachers. Its eyes flare in the glaring glow of the stadium lights, but they’re the wrong color, he thinks: blood-moon red instead of cobalt blue, but the familiarity of it all makes his stomach roll and clench.

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Between Dogs and Wolves by artemis69 (T | 1/1 | 25,934)

"This is…not four million in cash,” remarks Stilinski.

“Isaac. Did you fail to get my money back and decided to pick up a stripper on the road to bribe me? Because let me make this perfectly clear: this would totally work. Well done.”

Or

The mafia!AU where the Hales owe four million to the Stilinskis, Laura rents Derek (but not as a stripper), Stiles gets a new favorite, Derek gets a new boss, a new puppy and a new family.

Sometimes they break people, but mainly, they just snark at each other.

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I've Lived A Better Day by HelloWhyTheFuckAmIHere (NR | 18/18 | 32,819)

When Stiles comes across a rogue Alpha during his first year at Berkeley, the ensuing fight doesn't exactly go his way. He calls an unlikely ally to help him with his transition, and finds out his new pack isn't quite who he might have thought it would be.

Stiles is now left with the task of trying to figure out how his old life will fit in with his new, but that is not without its challenges.

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It's A-Boat Time! by Fae_vorite, isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella) (T | 1/1 | 33,681)

He could hear the others talking outside, Scott and Isaac freaking out over something and Stiles snapping at them to shut up and help him get inside.

“Dude, how the fuck can you expect me to stay calm right now! Seriously, that’s a fucking tail!”

“We can talk about it later, just get me inside before someone fucking sees me! I don’t want to end up in a fucking aquarium!”

“Christ, you’re heavy!” Isaac grunted. “How much does this thing weigh?!”

“Shut up and walk,” Stiles snapped.

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Blindsided by AClosedFicIsNeverRead (E | 16/16 | 39,664)

Derek exhaled tremulously and tried to stay calm. He called several more times, growing steadily more frantic each time, before allowing the truth to settle in: Stiles’ phone was off. “No. No, no, no, please, no,” Derek whispered to himself, barely able to see the screen through his tearful eyes. What had he done? Had he been so blinded by rage that he dismissed Stiles' call for help?

- OR -

Fuming over Scott's betrayal, the Alpha is out of his mind with anger. When he receives a call from Stiles in that incredibly inopportune moment, he does not even let the teen speak - just screams at him, blames him for everything, and hangs up. But then Erica and Boyd show up, frantically insisting that Stiles is out there somewhere, likely hanging onto life by a thread after being tortured for hours... Will they be able to find Stiles before it's too late? And just how much of the Stiles they know will be left if they do manage to track him down?

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The More That I Know You (the more I want to) by LadySlytherin (M | 1/1 | 43,656)

When death, in the form of hunters, comes for a family of Kelpies seeking refuge in the Preserve - in Hale territory - the Hale Pack is too late to save them. Before he dies, the male Kelpie presses a precious bundle into Stiles’ arms and begs the Emissary to take responsibility for it, which an initially reluctant Stiles does. When he agreed, Stiles had no idea what the sight of him with a baby would do to his esteemed Alpha, Derek. If he’d known, he might not have been so reluctant to agree.

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let's get lost by hot_damn_louis (NR | 12/12 | 57,232)

Stiles was used to hiding things from those close to him. He hid his grief from his dad, his anger from Scott, and the deep sadness from everyone else. Somehow, he can't seem to hide anything from Derek, who is now acting more and more like a real person. Maybe even a friend. All Stiles wants is to feel normal, and Derek seems to be the most normal thing in his life.

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Intention by AlliDee12, ReadablePlot (E | 14/14 | 125,612)

The idea of making things better clings to Stiles: He needs to undo even a fraction of what he did, stop it from happening again, make something around him better in a way he can't for himself.

And things do get better, for all of five minutes.

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A Teenage Love Song by HaleHathNoFury (My_Trex_has_fleas) (E | 26/26 | 155,834)

Stiles is sick and tired of how much he fucks up. His dad is disappointed, his step-mom judges and his step-brother can do no wrong. It's not that he doesn't love them, he just gets so tired of being different. Now he's being moved lock, stock and barrel to Beacon Hills aka the town his mom grew up in so they can go live in his grandma's house and his father can get him back on the straight and narrow.

It's going to suck.

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You're stronger than you know by Littleredridinghunter (NR | 15/15 | 234,195)

Set at the end of season 2, Stiles survives his encounter with Gerard and his goons, but it isn't easy.

The pack are letting him down again, his dad is not speaking to him, his life is just generally falling apart.

Until he has to get a bronze dagger to kill a siren and his whole world gets flipped on it's head!

My summaries are rubbish but I hope you'll still give it a chance!

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[songspirits]

rating fanon portrayals of the outsiders boys

note: my guesses on the canon personalities probably arent even true lol this is my opinion

-

ponyboy curtis

5/10

sometimes the portrayals are really good!! but i hate that often, people portray him either as a moody brat or a weak baby. he is canonically a good fighter, especially after the fire, though he doesn’t like to. hes a loner, hes a reader, hes a pacifist, hes a good kid.

you have to remember that the outsiders is literally written in HIS POINT OF VIEW!!! ofc yes he’s a sassy and snarky teenager but he is also so intelligent and smart. hes a loner, but the gang would never shun his company. he has so much depth that a lot of writers often forget. hes a 14 year old kid with thoughts of a adult and can only do so much. thats what makes the outsiders so relatable to alot of people. its his intelligence that makes him and darry argue, because of how darry sees himself in ponyboy

but also on the other side of the coin ponyboy is a fragile character after the events of the book, because he is 14!!! but he has thoughts!!

i feel like people forget his good traits and only focus on the bad (and oh my goodness does this count for darry too!)

sorry for my rambles i just love his character so much :-(

darry curtis

7/10

besides fanfiction.net and like 30% of the fics on ao3 hes actually a solid portrayal most of the time, but tons of people forget that his relationship with ponyboy wasnt actually that batshit awful. sure theyd butt heads alot and go back and forth but they love each other thats why they did that. hes so much more than just an angry man who happens to be ponyboys brother.

hes a man who peaked in high school (IM KIDDING) and lost it all not because of his brothers but because of his parents. there was probably some strong resentment there for a while until they died. darrys problem or flaw is that he cares too much and his fear turns to anger. its love for sodapop and ponyboy that brings him back when he realizes his anger is doing more bad than good for his little brothers. It’s opening up and allowing his brothers in that helps his character.

that being said, people often focus more on his bad traits than his good traits. its a running theme in the outsiders fandom, i’ve noticed

sodapop curtis

7.5/10

highest rating i have on this list!! fanfiction.net outsider fics ive gotta say i actually just cant handle it so thats why it isnt a full 8 and ao3 is a 50/50

people put that hes soft but also forget that hes wild. hes batshit CRAZY. hes just as protective as darry and just as snarky as ponyboy. hes soft!! hes rough!! sodapop curtis is a dynamic character!!!!

johnny

5/10

ehhhhhh, most johnny portrayals i’ve seen are either really good or really bad. kinda ponyboy’s problem, being seen as weak. hes just a dynamic character who is allowed to be weak but also has so many strong traits about him. he is a frightened wounded animal to most but to the gang hes something more than that. also, snarky and ‘over’ johnny portrayals are great.

dallas

4/10

most portrayals i’ve seen are pretty good but its the same problem ive seen in all the boys— they only focus on a few traits dallas has (aggressive, tough, hardened) and stick with that. forgetting the youth in dallas winston and making his character honestly… less tragic?

imo the tragedy of the outsiders is the youthfulness in all the boys and how shitty situations couldnt make them more vulnerable, so i would love more of a vulnerable dallas in fics around the gang. another thing, people forget how much ponyboy really does mean to dallas. johnny and ponyboy were both his brothers and he’d did so much for the both of them precisely bc of that

two-bit

5/10

again.💔people forget how DYNAMIC these characters are!!! two-bit knows when to get serious for the love of god!!

steve

1/10

what portrayal. ☹️ppl dont write him enough and if they do its like one line #justiceforsteve

in conclusion

the outsiders fandom often have such good portrayals but only for one part of their character. this isnt to shame anyone or anything!! but this is just a helpful criticism ?? for any writers out there portraying the boys!! trust me i had to think abt this too lmao

[csuitebitches]

Rebranding Yourself Online using ChatGPT

Summary from “Brand Aid: Taking control of your reputation before everyone else does” by Larry G Linne and Patrick Sitkins. This book is from the early 2010s so some things are outdated and not exactly applicable. It’s also a more corporate/ business focused book. I took away what i felt were the major lessons and were more applicable to young adults/ teens/ people on social media today (because social media in 2013 vs today is very different).

I also wanted to add my own input to the summary. I’ve added prompts for ChatGPT that you can use to help figure your personal brand out better.

When rebranding yourself online, I would highly recommend:

1. Archive all your personal Instagram account’s posts (if you have an online business, create a separate page and show very little of yourself). Remove all your stories and highlights. Deactivate your account for at least 8 months.

2. Spend the next 8 months building your social media strategy, your personal brand and reinventing yourself in any way and form you want to (mental, physical, spiritual, etc).

3. Use Pinterest and figure out a theme that defines you the best. Take a look at @mafeanzures

————————-

* A brand is what people think of you.

Questions to ask yourself:

1. What do you think other people think of you?

2. What personal attributes would you benefit from the most if those items were well known to everyone?

Question 1 and 2 in the next few prompts refers to these 2 questions.

ChatGPT prompts after you finish writing down the above answers:

“I want to develop my personal brand on instagram (or any one social media site at a time). Currently I’m seen as a (2 of the most negative qualities and 2 of the most positive qualities from question 1). I want to be seen as (4 of the most positive qualities from question 2). What should I do to be seen as that?”

This will give you a STRATEGY that you can further modify.

Now, ask the same question again but with one change:

“I want to develop my personal brand on instagram (or any one social media site at a time). Currently I’m seen as a (2 of the most negative qualities and 2 of the most positive qualities from question 1). I want to be seen as (4 of the most positive qualities from question 2). What should I post online to be seen as that?”

This will give you CONTENT that you should consider posting.

**

* It is very likely that if you are to meet someone new and you’re aware you’re going to meet them, you’ll check their social media out. Whether its LinkedIn, facebook, twitter, instagram… keep your online presence clean.

* Before you post ANYTHING online, ask yourself: “how will this affect my brand?” If you post a story about a nasty break up/ a friendship falling apart/ a negative restaurant review… how do you think other people will see you? Be extremely mindful of your brand and what you post online.

* Rather than the age old advice “just be yourself”, look at “just be your best self.”

**

7 steps to a great brand:

1. Write down what you think people think of you: both positive and negative

2. Determine your goals in life (career, family, etc). What brand items do you need to get there? For example, the brand item “intelligent” to move up the corporate ladder. What will you need in order to be perceived as intelligent?

3. Gap analysis: the difference between point 1 (current situation) and point 2 (desired situation).

4. Develop action items. For example, if you want to be seen as innovative at work, start bringing ideas to meetings.

5. Influences on your brand: your dress, style, voice tone and quality, health, recreation, the car you drive, social environments, where you live, the language you speak, the subjects of your conversations, social media postings all impact your brand.

6. List what you must do to protect your brand. For example: not drinking in public; dressing a certain way; etc.

7. Review every 6 months.

Ask ChatGPT: “I am (ethnicity) (gender), (age) years old based in (City, country). Currently I’m seen as a (2 of the most negative qualities and 2 of the most positive qualities from question 1). My viewers would mostly be people from (conservative/liberal/ rural/ urban/ define audience. In case there are two audience types, ask one at a time) backgrounds. I want to be seen as (4 of the most positive qualities from question 2). What behaviours should I not engage in?”

**

Using the power of “always”: 5 specific things you pride on yourself for doing regularly.

“I always take the time to be updated in my field of work.”

“I always volunteer every Sunday.”

**

Things to keep in mind:

A. Are you easy to find online?

B. Is your content consistent?

C. Do your pictures, videos convey your personal brand?

D. What will enhance your brand?

E. What will damage your brand?

Ask ChatGPT: “I want to develop my personal brand on instagram (or any one social media site at a time). Currently I’m seen as a (2 of the most negative qualities and 2 of the most positive qualities from question 1). I want to be seen as (4 of the most positive qualities from question 2). What can potentially damage my brand if I’m not careful?”

**

If you are willing to see what you are doing and saying on the front page of a newspaper tomorrow, proceed with it. If you wouldn’t want it on the front page of the newspaper, STOP immediately.

**

More things to keep in mind:

1. The internet amplifies everything

2. Context matters

3. Consistency is everything

4. Your “at home” brand is as important as “outside of home” brand

[tenyearsoftrash]

Ten Years of HTP: A Celebration

Hi all, I (@eatingcroutons) set up this blog with all sorts of intentions about preparation and promotion and then Life Things Happened, but I'm still hoping to go forward with the idea of encouraging some nostalgia and memory-sharing about the last ten years of the HYDRA Trash Party.

The aim here is to be more of a celebration of community rather than your typical prompt fest - if you're looking for prompts for fanworks you might want to check out the @catws-anniversary that has just kicked off and will run until the 4th of April, or of course refer back to the Trash Meme itself!

So for this blog's purposes, feel free to post informal thoughts and musings and ramblings, and to comment on each other's memories - this is all about our shared history and nostalgia, and the idea is for it to be an open dialogue and celebration of community. A few points on logistics:

Anonymous asks and submission are open on this blog if you'd prefer not to participate under a named account. We all know how hostile certain corners of fandom have become to darkfic and adjacent content.

For all the themes below self-recs are also very welcome, if you want a chance to show off something you made years ago that hasn't gotten much attention in a while!

Go ahead and tag this blog at @tenyearsoftrash for a reblog of anything you post about the below themes!

All that said, here are some suggested themes and ideas to get you thinking and reminiscing:

April 4: Rewatch CA:TWS!

Take yourself right back to where it all began! With too many people across too many timezones we're not going to even try to organise a massive synchronised groupwatch, but maybe you could get a few of your old-school HTP buddies together to do a smaller one? In any case: fire up the movie, relive all the feels, and share any HTP-related thoughts that come (back) to mind after all these years!

April 5: Fanwork Recs

Go back and dig up some links to your favourite HTP fanworks - whether big or small, well-known or niche, what are the works that have really rewritten your brain chemistry, and stuck with you all this time? What was it about them that hit just the right spot? Feel free to share your thoughts on Tumblr - and to go back and drop a nostalgic comment on anything on AO3 😉

April 7: Meta Recs

Over the years there's been a lot of meta associated with HTP, from discussions of what CA:TWS and HYDRA represent in a broader social context, to endless back-and-forth about darkfic's place in fandom. Are there any posts that really made you think, or that remain relevant even now? Is there anything that came out of those meta discussions that has turned out to be particularly prescient, in hindsight?

April 8: HTP Fanon

What are your favourite bits of shared or personal fanon around HTP and its related concepts? Are there any Original Characters you're particularly fond of? Any particular tropes regarding characters or events that you will never get tired or bored of? Any ideas that might seem cracky on the surface but which you are totally into regardless?

April 8: Other Media/Fandoms

We've all had those moments where we've come across something in a new canon and immediately been like, "Oh, this is delicious trash bait," right? What other media has had a "Bucky Barnes Obediently Accepts The Bite Block" moment for you? What other characters might your fellow HTP friends enjoy as interesting targets for Trash Party Shenanigans? In what fandoms have you found yourself running into an awful lot of familiar HTP faces?

April 9: WIP Amnesty

Do you have any HTP fanworks that you never finished, or never got around to starting, for whatever reason? Now's your excuse to talk about them! Feel free to ramble about what your plans would have been, lament why they're never going to happen, or share some of those great ideas you never quite had time to plot out. Or, if you're feeling particularly inspired, go back and actually finish something off!

April 10: HTP Community Memories

To finish off the week let's talk about the community itself! What have been the good times, the interesting times, any times that have been personally significant to you, for any reason? What things have you experienced or shared or understood with or through or because of the HTP community? What new friends have you made over the years, and what old friends do you miss?

---

Apologies again for taking some time to getting around to making this post, but hopefully people will still be interested in doing some reminiscing!

[high-priestess-house]

𝕸𝖊𝖗𝖈𝖚𝖗𝖞 𝕽𝖝. 𝕴𝖘 𝕳𝖊𝖗𝖊

Mercury retrograde begins at 4° Virgo and ends at 21° Leo, traversing two distinct signs with unique energies. Virgo, known for its precision, analytical thinking, and focus on health, sets the stage for the retrograde’s beginning. As Mercury moves backward into Leo, the emphasis shifts to creativity, self-expression, and leadership.

The Astronomy Behind Mercury Retrograde

Astronomically, Mercury retrograde occurs when the planet appears to move backward in its orbit from our perspective on Earth. This optical illusion happens due to the differences in orbital speeds between Earth and Mercury. Since Mercury orbits the Sun much faster than Earth, it occasionally overtakes us, creating the retrograde effect.

During this time, Mercury is closer to Earth, and its gravitational influence is stronger. However, it’s essential to remember that the planet isn’t actually moving backward; it just appears to do so due to our vantage point. This phenomenon typically lasts about three weeks and happens three to four times a year.

Key Aspects and Influences

Mercury-Venus Conjunction (August 7): This alignment at 3° Virgo intensifies themes of love, beauty, and harmony. It encourages us to reassess relationships and personal values, potentially bringing past issues to the forefront for resolution.

Moon Transits: The Moon transits Virgo from August 5-8, amplifying the need for mental clarity and health focus. Later, as it moves through Gemini from August 25-28, it highlights communication and intellectual pursuits. These periods are ideal for grounding and introspection.

Impact on Zodiac Signs: Each sign will experience this retrograde uniquely. Virgos may feel heightened anxiety, needing to manage stress and details carefully. Leos might reassess personal goals and creative projects, focusing on refining their self-expression.

Astronomically, Mercury’s retrograde motion is an optical illusion caused by the relative positions of Earth and Mercury in their orbits around the Sun. This period is a fascinating time to observe the planet in the sky, appearing to move westward against the backdrop of stars.

During its retrograde phase, Mercury is best viewed just after sunset or before sunrise. Use this time to connect with the cosmos and deepen your understanding of planetary movements and their symbolic meanings.

Utilize the Moon in Virgo for rituals focused on health, well-being, and grounding. When the Moon is in Gemini, focus on communication and intellectual clarity. These phases are perfect for enhancing mental and emotional stability through magic.

Mercury retrograde can be a powerful time for introspection and magical work focused on reflection and realignment.

Perform rituals to release old patterns and recalibrate your energies.

Cleanse your space, and set intentions for clarity and purification. This is a powerful time for letting go of what no longer serves you and making room for new insights.

Create a sacred space to meditate and reflect on past actions, decisions, and relationships. Use crystals like amethyst or clear quartz to enhance clarity.

Shield yourself from potential negative influences by casting protection spells using black tourmaline or obsidian.

If old friends or lovers resurface, use this time to mend or release these connections. Light a blue candle (associated with communication) to facilitate open and honest dialogue.

Mercury retrograde is a potent time for divination practices such as tarot, astrology, and scrying.

Reflect on past issues and seek guidance on navigating current challenges. This period supports deep self-inquiry and uncovering hidden truths.

From a spiritual perspective, Mercury retrograde is a time for inner work and growth. It’s an opportunity to slow down, reassess, and realign with your higher purpose.

Practice mindfulness to stay grounded and centered. Meditation can help you maintain clarity and calm amid the chaos.

Document your thoughts, feelings, and experiences. Reflecting on your entries can provide valuable insights and guidance.

Engage in energy healing practices like Reiki or crystal healing to balance and align your chakras.

Use positive affirmations to counteract any negative thoughts or fears that arise during this period. Affirm your ability to navigate challenges with ease and grace.

Practical Tips for Thriving During Mercury Retrograde

Be Flexible: Adaptability is key during Mercury retrograde. Have backup plans in place and be prepared for unexpected changes.

Double-Check Everything: Whether it’s an important email, a travel itinerary, or a contract, double-check all details to avoid errors.

Slow Down: Take your time with tasks and decisions. Rushing can lead to mistakes and misunderstandings.

Stay Grounded: Grounding practices like walking in nature, yoga, or deep breathing can help you stay centered and calm.

Mercury Retrograde may have a reputation for causing disruption, but it also offers a unique opportunity for reflection, realignment, and growth. You can navigate this period with confidence and ease. Embrace the introspective energy of Mercury retrograde, and use it as a time to pause, reflect, and prepare for the forward momentum that will follow.

[tambermizukiart]

- @khoc-week

Day 1 - Introduction

Tamber ⭐️🪻

My main KH OC Tamber, created in 2007 and till this day I never stopped carrying on and developing her. I'm very fond of my purple starflower lady.  💜

She's motherly, shy, caring, and with poise, but better not to provoke her by putting any of her beloved people in danger.

She's from Radiant Garden, childhood friend of Lea and Isa. They form a trio together (either called Radiant Trio or Celestial Trio). 

Loves astronomy, books, and flower language.

Stars and flowers are her representative themes.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚

Day 2 - Past

Tamber used to happily live along with her older sister and parents. Her days started to be even brighter since the moment she met her childhood friends Lea and Isa, when they all were just 5 years old.

Due to a dissension inside the family that made the members pass away, she became orphan at the age of 8: that event left a fracture inside of her. Lea and Isa were the only thing she could rely on and they supported each other no matter what, day after day.

Very soon enough, she is taken by Ansem the Wise at the castle -like Ienzo much time after. Her life would have become even harder from that point, passing most of the time studying and locked up.

She rarely could see her two friends, unless she would find a way to sneak out and meet with them.

During KHBBS however, when teenagers, she and Lea developed feelings for each other. They kept their relationship secret for the sake of Isa and their friendship, however he eventually found it out and, as predicted, he started to detach as he secretly also felt something for Tamber.

After losing Lea and Isa due to Terra-Xehanort and his experiment, Tamber became a Nobody out of despair and negative emotions, ending up being part of the Organization under the no. 0 (zero) rank.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚

Find more on my Toyhouse 💜

[mar3ggiata]

professional help, c2. 'The urgency.'

simon riley x original character.

trigger warnings: violence, sexual assault, mentions of rape, trauma, sexual themes, swearing, use of alcohol and drugs, eating disorders, depression.

song to listen to when reading this: The Chain, Fleetwood Mac.

abstract: this is Jude, this is a little bit of information about me since you care so much, I don't even know you… anyway yes, I really like being mysterious, what you gonna do about it, punch me in the face? I'm not even real, grow the fuck up. see ya.

Sometimes, she just fucking hated her life. She supposed it was normal like that, it happened to everyone to absolutely fucking despise their lives, no? She wakes at the same hour everyday, does her makeup. Not too much, not too little to show she was sleep deprived and got high last night. Her identity was concealed under eyeliner and blush. She looks like a doll. She likes her makeup, she's quite good at it. She plays with her hairstyles, sometimes a bun, sometimes braids, sometimes loose with a headband, depending on the mood. She walks her dog and cleans his poop. Jinx, a 5 month old Belgian Malinois she adopted when she moved. She found him at a shelter for abused puppies, he was the last one to get adopted. She decided to take him, she planned to move to the countryside soon anyways. Gaining his trust was one of her biggest accomplishments, now the dog had a bit of an attachment issue, but they were working on getting better together. She drives to work with the same 4 playlists playing in her car. Old rock, Frank Ocean, some Italian songs here and there.

She always comes in dressed in dark colours, dark red, dark blue or black. She has 10 male patients and 8 female soldiers. Some of them are combat medics, some snipers. Demolition experts. She works 'till lunch time, eats alone, sometimes skips lunch just to make her body feel something and indulge in disordered eating, then goes outside to smoke and comes back in. After the afternoon sessions, she sometimes has groups together for some group therapy. Then she usually goes home and smokes weed while she cooks her dinner, she acts like she's in MasterChef, puts on music and pours herself a glass of wine 'Quando sei qui con me' she sings to her dog, 'Questa stanza non ha più pareti, ma alberi'. Jinx doesn't even know Italian. Two times a week, she teaches ballet at a local dance school. 13 year old is not old enough to be on point shoes. It's her favourite time of the week though. She gets to finally have control of a situation, she gets some respect. 13 year olds, a fucking nightmare… She gets to tell them what to do and correct their arms, their feet, their posture and they listen! They do, and they like her, they say thank you Alba, see you next week! They learn her choreographies, they follow her lead when she explains a new variation. They even like the songs she chooses for warm up. Mostly Abba.

Alba is not her real name, but they don't know that. A gift from Laswell, when she started working for her. A sparkly new identity, English ID and nice documents that prove she's an English citizen, born in Southampton. She's not. Kept a little bit of Italian in the fake name. She hasn't been in Italy in close to five years. She went on vacation alone in Tuscany once, just to feel her country again for a second. She is not in contact with her family, last message from her sister was three years ago, it went 'I hope you're alive.' Her mother taught her violence. To be in power. To be beautiful and kind. To never ever trust someone who wouldn't give their life for you. Her mother taught her loyalty, respect. She used to never cry as a child. She loved to know stuff, to read about planets. She would kill lizards in the backyard with her little brother, who died young. She saw her first gun at 13. Now, her name is not Alba and it sure isn't Jude. Or Judy, as some patients call her. They know it's a callsign, a code name, everyone has one, especially in the task forces. Hers is Jude. 'Jude looks like an angel, but her words have thorns'. That's what Billy Lunette had to say about her. Billy had been her favourite patient for the whole of 2021. He had PTSD, he had night terrors and was in a mental hospital for schizophrenia symptoms for a while. He wouldn't take his medication, he would smoke, he was a mess. He listened to her though. She was the only one who visited him in the hospital. She showed him he could trust her and he completely lost himself in her. He would call her at 3 in the morning, drop by her office too many times per day, developed a bit of a codependency, but she was able to help him through his pain. He would do research about the treatments, the medicine, cognitive behavioural therapy. Billy was happy now. He was grateful to have had her and she was grateful that Billy had been a great patient. Big challenge. Billy was her biggest accomplishment, and proof of the fact she wasn't completely useless in the army.

She didn't work for the entirety of 2022. She had an accident with one of the patients, classified information. She survived, but man was it hard to live after that day... Spent time with her dog, visited a friend in San Francisco, taught ballet. Price and Laswell felt so guilty they continued to pay her even if she wasn't working. Why she decided to come back she really didn't know. She thinks the truth is she likes helping people, makes her feel good. She likes the crazy stories and that she had a reputation at the base, she was starting to be respected. She craved that. And it really started to bore her, the routine. Until Arash. Seeing Arash so frighted and tense was new, he was a calm and polite gentlemen. She saw an invisible string tying his story and his damned pilgrimage book to the mission she knew had failed in the Middle East. Now, it was a little bit of a stretch. So she did her little research, put her Sherlock hat on, lit a cigarette and started digging.

She had fun, until things really started clocking. He was missing his doctor appointments on purpose on specific dates, to go do what? Call someone? She couldn't steal his phone. Send letters? She tried the post office but found out nothing. The bank really did give her his statements, which was pure luck. He had set his personal security questions as his birthday and his mother's name, which she knew, because he told her. She knew everything about him, even his social security number. Arash really trusted her and she had an incredible memory for unnecessary details. Also, he left his wallet on the couch in her office countless times, it’s not that she looked, it was just there and she remembered. When she saw him stressed and fidgety she knew he was hiding something. She kept a straight face, 'Arash, we can really talk about whatever you want, you know' and he would interrupt her 'You don't understand. The urgency!', he continued to say. She really didn't want to tell Price herself, she would have preferred for Laswell to do it. She took extra time in the morning to get ready that day. She was going in a separate area she knew very little about, and nobody knew who she was. Sometimes people mistook her for someone's wife, or daughter. She chose her outfit accordingly, she wanted to seem professional. She wore a sports bra. There was nothing to look at anyways. She didn't put on lipstick, not even the nude one. She was used to being underestimated, and being looked down at. She was also used to raising her voice and presenting herself as stoic and cold. She knew perfectly how to be violence. She noticed a familiar face once she opened the door of the briefing room. A familiar face mask. The skull guy, she had seen him before. Was he the guy…

She could't get distracted. Her little mission went smoothly. She always knew Price liked her and feared her at the same time, and when it came to his little soldier boys, she really didn't care what they thought. The guy from the day of her accident even spoke to her. Poor thing. She was really amused no one told him about the reason why she didn't want to go home alone. He did really good that night, she remembers him well. He didn't try to speak too much, he sounded gentle. A gentle giant. Unfortunately for him, no one was gonna tell him about that day. When she left the room, she went straight home. She doubted someone would ever contact her again about the situation, they would handle it themselves, and probably very badly. She was driving to her ballet lesson, still thinking they all looked so confused by her words. They were probably gonna do a stupid interrogation, or rather do nothing and wait for the next mission to be a shit show. Imbecilli.

'Alright girls, one more time please!' At least she had her little ballerinas to cheer her up. She had them warm up, she usually did the warm up routine with them. She walked between the four rows of kids at the barre, delivering her corrections. Jennifer usually had stiff hands, and she was tense in her shoulders. Kyla had a beautiful turnout but she often confused her arms positions. The jetes routine, they always forgot that one. 'It's three in front and switch… guys I'm not gonna repeat myself'. She thought she sounded rude sometimes, but 13 year old American girls were a nightmare to work with. Last month, she even had to deal with poor Gemma being bullied in the changing rooms. 'I'm gonna say this just once, three in the front, switch to the back.' she liked demonstrating, felt like she was taking lessons herself. 'Ta-ra, ta-ra, ta-da. And we're gonna hold here' she lifted herself on her toes and attached her right pointed foot to her knee. She let go of the barre, holding her balance on one foot. 'Passè.' she said. The girls groaned. 'The more you complain the more I'm gonna make you stay like this girls. We're gonna do one minute.' She went to the side of the room, to play the music 'From the top.'

notes: translation of the song: 'Quando sei qui con me' when you're with me, 'Questa stanza non ha più pareti, ma alberi', this room doesn't have walls no more, it has trees.

notes: Alba means something specific!

translation: imbecilli, means imbeciles.

notes: let me know what you think !! <3

love, mare.

taglist:

@ummmmmwat @ghostlythots @sweetfemmefatal @natxpat @chavarriakeren647 @ravenmoore14 @farther-than-pleiades @internallyscreamings @hwromi @atoxicrat @cuti3maddi3 @deafeningkittenblaze @its-celeste @serene-hills @lexidoll12 @poohkie90 @lunatiquess

@warmedbythebody @katzykat @iristhemuse @azkza @keiraslayz @abbyandermine @jennyjencakes @dest-nai @corset-briefs @nutze-kekse @ilytsukiw @b3anspr0ut

@pondsblog @missyouzoe @fallenkitten @bigauthorrascalturkey @bethtay @angelynn-nicole @starluv @stargirlisworld @giyuuslittleslut @impossiblecupcakelight

@rkrivees-blog @ghosts-hoe @kam1snotverysmart @gauky76 @freyjaaasstuff @spicyspicyliving @scottpilgrimvsmyfists @courtney0-0 @shinchanboi @darling006

[back2bluesidex]

Attention - JHS Smut (M)

Pairing: idol!Hoseok X Fem!reader

Summary: A very jealous Hoseok fucks you into oblivion.

Word count: 900-ish

Theme: Smut, PWP (minors DNI)

Warnings: jealous fucking, domish Hoseok, degrading, possesive Hoseok, doggy style, denied orgasm, rough fucking, creampie, breeding kink (kinda?), Daddy kink, smacking, unprotected sex, (y'all know what's right), established relationship au.

A/N: I came home drunk (very drunk) last night. And woke up with this pwp idea... Idk why. Whatever, enjoy!

****************

With a rough thrust Hoseok pushes his cock into you completely, giving you absolutely no time to adjust. You grasp, try to opt for a handful of the cotton of the bed sheet.

"But he was a kid, Hobi." You manage to muffle it out somehow. However, you don't even know if you were able to make your voice audible enough to your boyfriend.

"So? What is your point Princess? He was a kid and yet he was capable of stealing my part of attention? Huh?" He grits through his teeth.

"H-he didn't ste– ah! Fuck!" Your words get cut as Hoseok starts to rub figure 8 on your already swollen clit.

"Look at you. My little slut. You were not even looking at me at the beginning of the night. My slut was so busy with my manager's little baby boy that she forgot her boyfriend was right beside her. Does that make sense?" He says, rocking into a very rhythmic pace. You can feel his veins on your velvety walls. The entire sensation makes you roll your eyes. His thumb never stops abusing your clit and you feel yourself getting close.

There was a party in Hybe, an annual one like every year. You were invited since you are not only Hoseok's girlfriend but also one of their photographers. You are a freelancer but you work with Hybe from time to time. That is how you met Hoseok back in 2015. You two started dating in 2018 and have been in a relationship for four years already.

Hoseok is full of sunshine and rainbows but only untill he is in his dance teacher mode or he is jealous. Jealous Hoseok is scary, so you don't prefer pushing his buttons. But tonight you got a little bit distracted by his manager's 5 year old baby boy and gave your boyfriend very little to no attention. Initially you thought he would not mind, but you knew you were fucked as soon as you two got in to the car.

He didn't even show mercy while tearing down your very new red cocktail dress. And he is not showing it when he is fucking you into oblivion.

Your walls clench around his hard shaft. You know you are close and you may cum at any given moment.

"Ho-seok, I-I am close." You moan out

"Close? Are you, princess?" He asks and you nod desperately.

"But would you like the consequences of cumming without my permission, babygirl?" He teases.

"I-I can't hold it anymore. I can't." It's too much for you, you will let it go at any moment and you almost do it but then you feel empty all of a sudden. Neither his cock nor his fingers are in contact with you anymore.

You open your eyes to look at him and see him pumping himself with the lubrication of your juices.

"Bad girls don't get to cum so easily." He says with evident anger in his voice and a frown in his beautiful forehead. You take time to admire your boyfriend. He is a Greek God. The beads of sweat in his face and body makes him look like a fucking fever dream. His dark hair falls on his eyes but you can see the growing darkness in them. You could cum just with this sight of him.

"Turn around, ass up." He commands and you obey. You know he is gonna fuck you doggy style. It's his favourite position after all.

He grabs your neck and pushes your face down on the mattress. He pries your legs wider and strokes your slit from up to down and then from down to up. He twists your clit between his index and thumb once making you mewel. And then he enters again, this time even deeper. A string of curses leaves your mouth as he does that without any warning and yet again, you get no time to adjust.

He hits your g-spot at once and you moan out loudly.

"Be it a kid, be it a dog, I don't care. Your attention should be mine when I am there. You got it?" He grits. You nod.

A harsh slap lands on your asscheek and you hiss. "Words princess." He says.

"Y-yes, I got it, Ho–" another slap.

"What is it you call me, princess?" He asks.

"Yes…y-yes Daddy. I g-got it." You manage to say while choking on your tears.

"Good girl." Hoseok cooes.

You feel yourself getting close yet again and you know Hoseok feels it too.

"Did you learn your lesson, princess?" He asks again.

"Y-yes daddy." You reply.

"Who do you belong to, princess?" Another rough thrust and you feel your legs shuddering.

"You, o-only you, d-daddy. Ahhh! Fuck!" Your words are again interrupted as he starts to stimulate your clit.

"Yes. That's right. You are mine." Hoseok groans.

"You" a rough thrust "are" another one "only" another thrust "MINE" and you cum unannounced.

Good thing is that he cums with you too, shooting rope of cums in your velvety walls.

You collapse on your belly as he falls on the top of you. You feel him softening inside you. He pulls himself out and the mixture of his and your cum leaks from your entrance staining your white bedsheet. You two take a few moments to catch your breath.

Hoseok preps some small kisses on your nape and shoulders. You feel him nuzzling into the crook of your neck but his lips soon find your ear.

"Don't take the after pill. If you like kids that much, we should have our own." He says in a low voice as he bites your earlobe softly.

[kradogsrats]

If Soren seems to have gotten sick when he was a toddler, do you think Lissa left shortly after Claudia was born…? Maybe that doesn’t quite line up, actually…

Okay so I saw someone ask Aaron Ehasz a similar question about the timeline of Soren's illness re: Viren's dream vs. the events presented in Puzzle House, and I cannot remember where it was but his response was something like "hm... well you should probably believe the show."

Which immediately made me go "oh my god was Soren actually dead for like three to five years and Kpp'Ar was looking for a unicorn horn to resurrect him in a manner similar to the Star magic spell that 'restores bodies to separated spirits' and then instead Viren stole Ziard's staff from him and used that??????" which is a) insane, and b) has several reasons it probably isn't the case. But it's a thought I had.

Anyway, let's look at our contrasting sources:

Puzzle House

Puzzle House establishes the following sequence of events:

Soren is ill to the point of dying

Kpp'Ar disappears

Soren gets better

Lissa leaves

It's also implied that this was all pretty recent, between King Atticus's concern for Viren and Soren's for Claudia:

So, how old are all these extremely precocious young children in Puzzle House?

Well, Sarai is... quite pregnant. She's got a pretty small frame, but I'd still put her at like 30 weeks, minimum. Ezran is pinned at 10 in the official character lineup. (In s4 he says he was "nine years old" when Harrow was killed. Given his March birthday, he is probably fudging that a bit since s1 starts mid-May so he was pretty recently 10 at the time.) Viren also puts Harrow's coronation and Sarai's death at nine years earlier, at which point I would estimate Ezran at roughly 6-8 months, given how he is portrayed.

Also given the mid-May start to s1, we also have Claudia at almost 17, and Soren at about 18 and a half. Soren is about 18 months older than Claudia. So between all of that, we can probably ballpark Puzzle House at about one year before Harrow's coronation. This puts Soren at about 8 and a half, and Claudia at almost 7. (And Callum at about to turn 5, if anyone's keeping track.)

Given the way it's spoken about, I would not put Soren's recovery at earlier than 6 months prior, and probably more like 3 or so. This roughly lines up with the estimates I had for everything before, so idk go me or whatever.

Strangers

We do also have a third source for details on Soren's illness, which is the Strangers short from Reflections. This establishes that Soren was old enough to remember details about that time:

If Soren was the age he appears in Viren's dream, then a) he probably wouldn't remember any of it, and b) Claudia would have been an infant. Now, an infant can definitely cry in their room until morning, but I do think the implication here is supposed to be that she was old enough to understand what was happening and have emotions about it.

Additionally, Soren thinks of the slow breaths practice as something he did therapeutically for a long time:

Basically, I think it's pretty clear between this and the info in Puzzle House that the Puzzle House timeline is accurate, but Soren initially developed what was actually a chronic illness much earlier.

Viren's Dream

Now, what about Viren's dream?

It's incredibly difficult to pinpoint ages of children in animation purely visually, so I'm mostly basing an estimate of 2-3 years old for Soren during Viren's dream off of his demonstrated stage of linguistic development and the fact that he's able to run. He could be delayed in one or both areas, though.

Viren dreams of Soren turning to stone, similar to how Thunder did (and how Viren does in the opening). This is interesting in that the implication is certainly death, but it also has heavy ties to dark magic and the other themes of Viren's dreaming, which I would say put it as more related to something along the lines of a "sealed fate" rather than literal death. Dreaming Viren knows what he didn't know when Soren was that age, and probably developed his first recognizable symptoms—that this illness would come close to killing him, and Viren would give up everything to save him.

There's also a possible implication there that dark magic was actually what caused Soren's illness in the first place, which could be something interesting to explore. (And I've definitely seen people explore it, before.)

Anyway, like most of Viren's dream, it's accurate but not literal.

TL;DR: Dreams are fucking weird, and Claudia was still probably between six and seven years old when Lissa left the family.

[jalapainio]

As I've been reading Comics, I've slowly been assembling a Batman readthrough Timeline, which encompasses the full scale of Batman. I made a post before of years 1-10, but now I have years 1-17 (Sorting them based on eras rather than by dates). Each also includes a canonized Trade Paperback list, for anyone who wants to read this timeline!

(Also this is going to be a long one)

Years 1-10

These years will mostly encompas reprints and post-crisis retells of the Golden and Silver Ages.

Batman Year 1: 22 year old Bruce (first of many soft head cannons) becomes Batman. Many early villains of Batman pop up, including Joker, Catwoman, Mad Hatter, Riddler, and Calendar Man. Canonized Comics include Batman: Year One and Batman: The Brave and the Bold.

Batman Year 2: This year is dedicated entirely to the Long Halloween, which also introduced Poison Ivy, Solomon Grundy, and most famously, Two-Face. Canonized Comics include Batman: The Long Halloween.

Batman Year 3: Much like Year 2, Year 3 is dedicated to its sequel, Dark Victory. In it, a new serial killer known as the Hangman has started killing cops in Gotham. This year sees the end of the classic Mafia in Gotham, and ten year old Dick Grayson being taken in by Bruce Wayne. While he does put on the Robin colors and even goes out with Batman, he is not Robin just yet. Canonized Comics include Batman: Dark Victory.

Batman Year 4: This year gives the main focus towards training Dick. We can also assume that the Justice League, or at least a version of it, has been formed during this year. In addition, Killer Croc is introduced. Also, Batman, Superman, and Wonderwoman meet. Canonized Comics include Batman/Superman/Wonder Woman: Trinity

Batman Year 5: The beginning of year five starts with a bang, with Darkside invading earth. The Original Justice League is formed. I used the basis of the New 52 Justice League 1: Origin as a starting point, and until I can find a better comic, that is the ‘origin’ of the Justice League. While most of the year is like the one above, a calm year for Batman, at the end of year, 12 year old Dick wears the Robin suit for the technically second time. He is the one who makes his suit, angry at Bruce for forcing him through constant training as a stall to prevent Dick from going out. Canonized Comics include Justice League 1: Origin and Robin and Batman.

Batman Year 6: Dick goes through his next big villain during the spring of this year, facing off against Two-Face. After a brief moment when he is fired as Robin, he returns to the Cape, this time with a new perspective on his role. Canonized Comics include Robin Year One.

Batman Year 7: Dick, while working with Batman, notices Bruce's strange behavior. Collaborating with his other teen heroes he met in Year 5, he figures out that the entire Justice League is acting weird! Together, the five (Robin, Speedy, Kid Flash, Aqualad, and Wondergirl) team up and work together to take down the Justice League! They called themselves the Teen Titans. Later, Barbara Gordon, 16 years old and an accelerated graduate of College (she has to be not on a normal track, or else her entire relationship with Dick would just be so weird) puts on a bat themed costume to spite her father, and ends up going against Killer Moth. Batgirl, as she's newly christrained, is supported by Robin (but not Batman) to become a superhero. Firefly takes up the costume with Killer Moth, and Batgirl takes them down. Canonized Comics include Teen Titans: Year One and Batgirl: Year One

Batman Year 8: Batman and Superman work together to defeat the Devil Nazha, which ends up with Dick being stuck in time. Bruce rescues him. Also, sometime this year something went down between Dick and Supergirl, but I cannot for the life of me figure it out. Canonized Comics include Batman/Superman World's Finest: Devil Nazha

Batman Year 9: Batman and Superman deal with a new superhero from another dimension and travel around the world to “have their strangest adventures yet.” Idk what that means, but I do know they fit on the Timeline right here. Canonized Comics include, Batman/Superman World's Finest: Strange Visitor and Batman/Superman World's Finest: Elementary.

Batman Year 10: 17 year old Dick and the rest of the Teen Titans fight off a rabid cult of fans! Again, I haven't read it, but I want to. Canonized Comics include World's Finest Teen Titans.

Alright, you still with me? Good. Here is years 11-17. These years mostly encompass the 80s and 90s Batman and the first three robins.

Batman Year 11: The New Teen Titans are formed! While I'm not including the titans book, the New Teen Titans, as it is pre-crisis, many of the events still happen. Mainly, Starfire, Raven, and Cyborg join the team. Canonized Comics include N/A

Batman Year 12: Bruce gets concerned that Dick is spending too much time torn between several different responsibilities, between College, the Teen Titans, and helping Batman as Robin. In a fit of anger, and oh boy how I hate that phrase and how it perfectly describes what happened here, he fires Dick as Robin. Dick goes on to become Nightwing, and 12-Years-Old Jason Todd is taken in as the New Robin. Canonized Comics include Nightwing: Year One

Batman Year 13: Unlike Dick, Jason gets thrust into his role as Robin. He learns of his father's true fate; that he was killed by Two-Face. Going out of his way he almost kills Two-Face, but decides not to. Canonized Comics include N/A (I tried so hard, but I could not find the comics referenced in Death in the Family. Oh well!)

Batman Year 14: Jason and Bruce fight off a cult led by the mad Dean Blackfire. Bruce gets brainwashed, reminds himself why he fights, and then destroys the totem that controlled the cult. Barbara Gordon also retires from Batgirl this year. Canonized comics include Batman: The Cult

Batman Year 15: Barbara Gordon is shot by the Joker, and becomes paralyzed for life. In addition Jason finds out that his mother is still alive, and goes off to find her. This ends with him being beaten to death with a crowbar by the Joker. Bruce goes into a fit of grief, putting himself into more and more danger, until 6 months later, 13-Year-Old Tim Drake takes up the mantle. Canonized Comics include Batman: The Killing Joke, Batman: Death in the Family and Batman: A Lonely Place of Dying (Sometimes these stories are sold together, sometimes separately).

Batman Year 16: Oh boy. Here's the first hearty year. Firstly, Tim goes to train with Shiva for a couple of months. While this happens, Superman dies. Tim returns home. Bruce meets Azrael, and they fight before Azreal joins Batman’s crusade. As Bruce and Tim start to figure out their relationship, Bane comes into the city, breaks every criminal out of Arkham, and breaks Bruce's Back. Bruce leaves to go on a trip to rediscover himself, and Azrael becomes the next Batman, kicking Robin out of the Batcave and becoming more and more ruthless. Tim goes off and meets Spoiler, his girlfriend, and defeats the Cluemaster. Bruce begins to Travel all around the world, learning how to cure his back. Canonized Comics include Robin: Reborn, Batman: Sword of Azrael, Batman: Knightfall, Robin: Solo and Batman: Knightquest

Batman Year 17: He returns after doing so, defeating Azrael and establishing himself as Top Dog once more. He takes a quick break, letting Dick Grayson take a quick stint as Batman, before returning to the role of Nightwing and moving to Bludhaven. Also important to note, though no comics here reference it, the Birds of Prey begin here. Soon after this, however, a virus spreads throughout Gotham, causing the entire city to go on Lockdown. They defeat the one who caused the virus, and another crossover ends. During this year (Not Sure exactly when), Batman’s failsafe gets released, and Batman is voted out of the Justice League. Canonized Comics include Batman: KnightsEnd, Batman: Prodigal, Robin Turning Point, Batman: Contagion and JLA: Tower of Babel

I’ll be making a few more Batman Timelines after this, adding on Years 18 and 19 (No Man’s Land and War Games), Years 20 and 21 (Damian, Jason, and Bruce’s Death), Years 22 and 23 (Return of Bruce Wayne and New 52), and Year 24 (Rebirth). But each of these are hearty as I try and narrow down the top 15 comics to include for each.

[wtficedance]

Ice Dance Reimagined

With the upcoming ISU Congress in Summer of 2024 and ice dance seemingly in an unending beta of rule changes, I figured I would float a few thoughts on the many changes that have been made over the past few years.

As I mentioned in my RD Rules post, the ISU has essentially made moves to return to the original dance (making the change from short -> rhythm dance even more pointless in the first place) choosing to dictate broader themes.

To me, what makes ice dance so unique amongst all the disciplines is the variety of elements and styles that each team is expected to have in their repertoire and the fact that even in a given SD/OD/RD theme, people have to go out of their way to have a unique take. The rules which have lowered difficulty--in the name of giving skaters more room to be creative--have in fact resulted in the opposite. More teams are doing the same difficult features, same footwork, same lifts, same transitions than ever before. Both drawing on old choreography and leading to homogeneity across the discipline.

I propose a scheme which is a compromise of the two conflicting motions in ice dance right now: 1) the “no pattern ever” give everyone freedom vibes and 2) the people who believe the pattern is king. Alternate having a patterned and original short dance, giving the discipline an opportunity to develop new patterns (the original intention of the pattern dance type step sequence) while also ensuring that teams are continuing to emphasize solid ice dance foundations like skating in hold.

Original Short Dance Layout

1PSt

2Pst

Non-touch midline step sequence (style A)

Twizzles

Lift

Patterned Short Dance Layout

Pattern 1

Pattern 2

Non-touch midline step sequence (style A)

Twizzles

Lift

What the ISU (and choreographers/coaches) have fundamentally misunderstood about the appeal of patterns is that EVERY step is intentional and meant to elicit a specific effect and contribute to an overall impression. There's a reason that even though the Yankee Polka and Finnstep and Tango Romantica all include a LFI Closed S-Step, they have completely different timing and contribute to very different impressions. And it is because the general footwork in the pattern, in addition to just the difficult steps and turns, is geared towards reflecting the unique character of that pattern. I cannot count the number of pattern step sequences since 2017 that have effectively been copy pasted across blues, Latin, foxtrot/quickstep, blues x2, and Latin x2 once again programs with only minor changes to mini-lifts. They lack intention, they are the slowest section of the program for a good 90% of RDs because every team--no matter the style--is attempting to make their turns as drawn out as possible to get credit.

I propose that in original dance years there are 2 PSt segments, each with 3 KPs with the former 4th KP serving as a choreographic benchmark. This would allow for direct comparison of teams doing the same steps (and not allow teams to do the exact same difficult turns 5 years in a row) while simultaneously incentivizing creativity.

For example, under “Jig” below there are the following guidelines:

Jig is characterized by (1) high tempo, (2) rapid toe and heel steps, (3) jumps, kicks, hops and other accents including slides and shuffles, (4) tight and rigid torso, emphasis on leg movements over arm movements, (5) music in 12/8, 6/8, 9/8, 2/4. Teams are expected to pick music and a type of jig dance which fits these characteristics. 1PSt must start at center ice, 2PSt must end at center ice.

An example of key points:

1KP1: A) LFI Counter, LBI Bracket B) LBI Counter, LFI Bracket in any variant of closed hold except basic hand-in-hand

1KP2: both skip, LBO C-Step, RFI Swing S-step. in killian or foxtrot variant.

1KP3: A) RBO 1.5Tw, any kicking/tucking motion, RFI Bracket, RBO Bracket. B) LFO 1.5Tw, any kicking/tucking motion matching/mirroring/corresponding to partner A, LBI Bracket, LFO Bracket. Partners must be touching once exited from twizzles.

1PSt being completely prescriptive in KPs and 2PSt being slightly more flexible:

2KP1: both beginning any bracket, immediate counter, 1-5 intermediate steps where at least one partner must hit at least one difficult skating position* for at least a 1/2 beat, skid exit.

2KP2: both beginning swing FO C-Step, 3-8 intermediate steps/turns with partners MIRRORING each other, ending BO Counter. Partners must be touching entire time

2KP3: both beginning double S-step, 1-4 intermediate steps, ending with one partner on a BO edge and picking into the ice and the other partner doing at least one revolution around. PSt, officially concluded when the stationary partner resumes motion. Partners much be touching at two points until the first revolution around in 2KP3 is concluded.

Skaters would receive credit for the KPs accomplished in both and would receive a fourth Y/N based on whether they met choreographic requirements outlined in italics above.

*difficult skating position: any position where the skating leg is bent at least 90 degrees (shoot the duck, hydroblade, any lunge, any crouch), besti squat, spread eagle, ina bauer, spiral, layback, etc.

Now for some theme ideas:

2024-2025 - Patterned Short Dance - Grand Ballroom with a pattern of Golden Waltz

Teams must skate a program which reflects the character of the waltz particularly with regards to (1) lilting knee action, (2) closed position in hold, (3) repeated rotation as a unit when progressing across the ice, (4) movements should appear long, extended, and with sweeping open posture, (5) tone and musical themes may vary as long as a waltz character is maintained.

2025-2026 - Original Short Dance - Jig

Jig originated in Ireland and Scotland, gradually progressing throughout the British Isles and mainland Europe and then throughout the world including in the Metis people of Canada and Louisiana. Straight and sand jigs were developed in the US by African Americans in the 19th century which eventually influence the creation of jazz and tap. Jig is characterized by (1) high tempo, (2) rapid toe and heel steps, (3) jumps, kicks, hops and other accents including slides and shuffles, (4) tight and rigid torso, emphasis on leg movements over arm movements, (5) music in 12/8, 6/8, 9/8, 2/4. Teams are expected to pick music and a type of jig dance which fits these characteristics.

2026-2027 - Pattern Short Dance - Percussive Dances with a pattern of Paso Doble

(1) Stomping, toe picking, clapping, other percussive elements involving hitting the legs or torso, (2) dance is primarily danced to the RHYTHM and TEMPO not the melody, if there is a section without audible rhythm the team should create that beat using percussive elements (3) music must include a beat throughout, a melody is not necessary, (4) a theme should remain consistent throughout, if movements are drawn from a traditional dance they should reflect the character of the music chosen and the pattern should be interpreted appropriately.

2027-2028 - Original Short Dance - Music and Rhythms of the 1970s

The 1970s were one of the most influential eras of music, giving birth to entire new genres and styles and furthering the popularity of funk, soul, R&B, jazz, glam rock, folk rock, pop, disco, reggae, electronic music, and the birth of hip hop, it was defined by experimental sounds due to new music equipment.

(1) Music choices and rhythms should be COHERENT and related, the two music choices should be related thematically, structurally, or stylistically beyond more than just being from the 1970s, (2) one piece of music should be high tempo (>120bpm) and one piece should be low tempo (<100bpm), a third piece can be skated to any tempo, (3) the holds, movements, and steps in the PSt should reflect the style of music and dance chosen

2028-2029 - Pattern Short Dance - Jazz and Tap with a pattern of Quickstep

Jazz dance is a particularly broad genre that includes original social dances like the Charleston developed in parallel to the birth of jazz in Harlem, as well as more modernized styling.

Skaters should take inspiration from dancers like Bill Robinson, Jack Cole, Fred Astaire, Gus Giordano, nd Bob Fosse, as well as Broadway stage choreography and tap dance.

(1) Music choices and rhythms should be COHERENT and related, the two music choices should be related thematically, structurally, or stylistically, (2) one piece of music should be high tempo (>120bpm) and one piece should be low tempo (<100bpm), a third piece can be skated to any tempo, (3) the Quickstep timing can be adjusted to fit the tempo of the music chosen and to reflect the character of the chosen choreography.

See: https://gotta-dance.com/brief-history-of-jazz-dance/

2029-2030 - Original Short Dance - Nuevo Latin

The ISU has done a whole lot of cha cha, rhumba, and samba, but those are FAR from the only Latin rhythms. Dancers will be challenged to develop a new pattern that isn’t already an ISU pattern (and one that hasn’t been done a million times).

Examples of other rhythms: bachata, cumbia, danzon, salsa, mambo, merengue, bomba, lena, perreo, etc.

(1) The entirety of the PSt should be done in the same style and tempo but can differ from the the rest of the program. (2) Dancers are only required to pick one rhythm style but 2-3 are permitted. (3) skaters must have two points of contact with each other the entirety of the PSt, (4) at least 6 changes of hold must take place during the PSt, this can be from the same to same hold as long as a step or turn takes place during the change, (5) 1PSt must begin at the end of the long axis, 2PSt must end at the same end.

Choreo deductions: obvious use of cha cha, rhumba, or samba music/choreo. Tango, paso doble, and flamenco also excluded.

2030-2031 - Pattern Short Dance - Folk Dances with a pattern of Polka

Folk and country dance is characterized by it's informal and reflection of the general populace intended for widespread social dance. As opposed to court and ballroom dances, it should not be characterized as refined, ritual, or for stage performance. Skaters are encouraged to choose a folk dance related to their background. (1) Polka is skated to a bpm of 120bpm +/-4 and can be skated to and interpreted in any kind of musical style, (2) the same folk dance theme should remain constant throughout the dance or if two dances are chosen they should be closely related (i.e. the non-touch midline step sequence done in the line dancing style and the polka in the square dance style) (3) skaters may have a non-touch portion of their 2PSt provided they remain within one arm-length of each other.

Examples of folk dances include: maypole, hora, tarantella, polka, square dance, clogging, Dutch crossing, oberek, mazurka, Morris , polska, ballu tundu, bhangra, circassian, dabke, garba, khigga, romvong, peacock dance, nongak, yangge, chacarera, zamba, malambo, marinera, akayida, kizomba, agbadza, baile folklorico, shota, rugovo, cumbia, landler, schuhplatter, sardana, dragon dance, lion dance, mapale, danza de la tijeras, jenkka etc.

2031-2032 - Original Short Dance - Swing and Social Dances

Despite the many years of jive, charleston, and jitterbug original dances, there is no swing (or related dance) pattern. Dancers are to pick a swing-adjacent dance style and create a pattern. Examples: charleston, lindy hop, jive, jitterbug, shag, boogie woogie.

(1) Dance style should generally be from the 1920s-1950s era, (2) skaters should include intricate changes of positions for each partner reflecting the highly athletic nature of swing dancing, (3) 1PSt should begin in front of the judges with a 1-2 second mini-lift and end in the same location, 1PSt and 2PSt should consist of similar patterns across the ice and each take one lap, (4) skaters should utilize hops, skips, assisted jumps, and up to 3 mini-lifts per PSt to reflect the character of their chosen dance.

Swing does NOT necessarily need to be up tempo if choosing a style such as West Coast Swing which is danced with a distinct lack of bounce.

And then with time in "pattern" years, new patterns will arise and be eligible for interpretation. Would love to hear people’s thoughts :)