#did I ever release that one personal edit

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

DPXDC prompt ~ Honor to Us All ~ Gotham as one true the most haunted city edition

~~~~~

Instead of a welcoming banner in front of a city was an old column, so familiar to a boy, with a warning inscription:

"To outsiders mad enough to attack Gotham: You will be forced to understand that dead soldiers will also go into battle. And having risen to protect, they will be ready to perish all again, So no one of the living would die near them."

Danny smiled with love. 'I’m home, Mother.' Ghost whispered into the void. And Gotham answered.

~~~~

Danny: My Lady, I brought you the crown of Pariah Dark. And The Ring of Rage. They’re gifts to honor the Gotham family. Lady Gotham: The greatest gift and honor is having you on my side, child.

~~~~~

Danny Fenton was born in Gotham and lived here until his parents decided to move. The city didn’t accept them.

'When I die, I want to be one of the Gotham Knights.' Little Danny with pride and eagerly reported to his parents after visiting the Battle Glory of Gotham Museum on a school trip. This evening, Danny learned that not all his plans should be told to his parents.

Danny know his parents are crazy about ghosts. and that all ghosts are "bad". But obviously, the ghosts they talk about, and his, or rather Gotham's, ghosts are completely different creatures. The spirits of the defenders are those who, even in the darkest of times, make the shadows of the Gotham a protection to the citizens.

But that knowledge is his little secret for now. Because if he starts arguing he’ll be punished and he won’t be able to run off to the roof where he’s arranged to meet Robin. Robin’s cool! He works with one of the 'still-living' knights. And he knows more about the city than anyone. Danny doesn’t want to offend his friend.

~~~~~

Mr Lancer doesn’t understand why the lecturer about ghosts, Constantine, after seeing Danny, said something about the bloody gothamites and their inability to stay underground. It wasn’t nice at all. Mr Lancer doesn’t blame Mr Fenton for smiling at the man a little aggressive and viciously. Poor boy probably didn’t know how to respond to his behavior. Danny moved to Amity Park a long time ago and did not stand out at all. So what was this man’s problem?

Danny only half dies because Lady Gotham blessed him when he was a child. So when Danny sees snow-white hair and glowing green eyes in the mirror, he is not frightened but surprised that the Lady protected him even though he is not living in Gotham now.

~~~~~

Danny knows gothamites don’t consider that Gotham is a part of the USA. Even their Metropolis neighbors are just pathetic cowards, unable to withstand the hardships of life. No, really. Why the hell would they be patriots of the country that thinks they’re its dirty secret? This opinion is shared by old ones and children, rich ones and residents of Crime Alley, heroes and villains.

Danny loves Gotham. And he likes local jokes about how if one of their supervillains ever took power enough to threaten the government, he would be obliged to release them from that citizenship. Otherwise, he would be shamed and ridiculed by the inhabitants.

Phantom is not a villain. But for Gotham? For their common purpose? He is ready to pretend to be.

~ A ghost can bring his city ~ Great honor in one way ~

Gothamites remember that the child of mad scientists was the only person Boy Wonder was willing to call a friend. They remember how boys' laughter was heard from rooftops and from alleys on particularly dark nights. And they know whose restless spirit has returned to mourn the death of the second Robin.

The boy’s parents must be fools. Many outsiders are. They call their blessing a curse. People die in Gotham. And not all of them come back. Residents know that these ones are chosen by Lady Gotham herself.

The public enemy of Amity Park number 1? What nonsense. He is not theirs anything! In Gotham they will accept the Phantom as a guard, as a silent shadow, as a villain or a hero. In any kind. Because he belongs here. He should be part of their dance between life and death. He should be amidst dark alleys and acid rains, gliding between fear and laughter in the air.

Even local villains experience strange yearning. Like something’s wrong. Like a piece of a puzzle that’s lost. Therefore, the local abandoned observatory is empty, and none of them is in a hurry to call it their territory. Because it will be in demand, it will be loved and needed. It’s only a matter of time.

Let the spirit of Gotham guide you home, child. Dead gothamite is still gothamite. Which means there will always be a place for you.

~~~~~

When Danny first enters his favorite cafe in his Phantom form and with a wound on his leg, he doesn’t expect a cleaning lady to yell at him immediately for the blood on the floor. With a mop in his hands and with already bandaged leg, Danny feels as if all his worries had gone. They are not afraid of him. Of course. No one in Gotham would avoid him because of glowing eyes and sharp teeth. And that’s nice.

The waitress throws a tray of food on a table next to him: Welcome dinner for the wandering son of the alley. Red Hood said it's your usual order. He’ll be waiting for you on the gargoyle. You should know which one.

~~~~

If parents listened to his childhood stories about good ghosts, they would know that the Phantom is not special. He is not an anomaly of ghost nature and not a mistake. He is one of many who always were and will be defenders of the city. Danny stands in front of the costume that he admired years ago. He's ready to take another shift at work. The remains of his colleagues can rest quietly this night. Lady will wake them only when in dire need.

#dpxdc #dcxdp #dpxdc prompt #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc memes #dp x dc #dc x dp #dc x dp prompt #dc x dp crossover

[inaconstantstateofchange]

Who Builds Theseus' Ship?

This ties in to a greater discussion about Larian's changes to the game post-Full Release, and whether you consider those changes to be a good thing or a bad thing. Personally speaking, the quality-of-life and gameplay mechanics improvements were appreciated, while the direct changes to characters and especially characterization were not so much.

In such discussions, I often see people downplaying the actual changes to characterization that have been made thus far as "minor" things, but I often see one of the most glaring examples of a characterization change left out, because so many people aren't even aware of it ever happening:

Halsin.

For those who don't know, if you were romancing Halsin at the time of the original full release, and for almost four months afterward, if you took him with you to Act 3's orgy scene in Sharess's Caress, he would open up about a situation in his distant past. He would tell you about how he had briefly been "something between guest, prisoner, and consort" in a drow House, and been kept there for three years before escaping.

He stated that this was something that happened "a long time ago", when he was "a foolhardy young druid", which would mean it would likely have been between ages 100 and 245 — or at minimum 105 years ago, and at (likely) maximum 250 years ago. He closed the discussion with a line that really struck me, and that gave me such an appreciation for his character, and for the writers who had created it:

The passage of time has a strange way of polishing even the most arduous of memories into precious keepsakes.

As someone in their late-20s, with a number of traumatic events in my past, this resonated so much both with my experience of those events – once harrowing and haunting, now just simple happenings that do not affect me the way they once did – and as an inspirational message, that hurt would not necessarily linger forever.

Not only that, I really valued the insight it gave into Halsin's personality, further showing him to be someone who was deeply complex and meditative, always looking for meaning and something to take away or learn from any experience. It also served to showcase the likely reality of the relationship elves and druids both would have to the concepts of time and memory. (Another example of this is the experience of Shadowheart's father compared to her mother at the hands of the Sharrans.)

I started playing the game almost immediately upon its release in August, and was intrigued by Halsin from the start. He was someone who was kind and heartfelt, but also very settled in himself and with a simultaneously rigid and very flexible moral code. It was that complexity that drew me to him, and I appreciated the inclusion of a character distinct from the Origin companions, all at close to the lowest point of their lives.

It was to my surprise to find that this appreciation for his character and perspective on his Act 3 revelation was not unanimous. As it turned out, there was a vocal group of people claiming that this writing was problematic, and that Halsin clearly didn't even realize he was actually traumatized, and that Larian needed to fix it. Not everyone joining in with this crusade had even played the game.

And, ultimately, in a pattern they have continued to follow, Larian responded. They fixed it. At the end of November, as part of Patch 5, they uploaded an edited version of the scene with new dialogue, where the player could express this "reality" to Halsin, in one of the most gallingly patronizing statements I've ever seen.

Sounds traumatic. You may need to reflect on that.

(If someone said this to me after I had opened up to them about my trauma and my experience of it to them, we would not be maintaining a cordial relationship afterward.)

Halsin's new response to these dialogue options is a cringing, self-deprecating cascade of how the player is of course right, and he should have known better, and time could "prove to be a trickster on one's recollections" and that perhaps he had "lost perspective".

Quite frankly, it is a completely different character answering, and an almost directly opposing overall message about the role of time in healing, and the path forward when it comes to trauma. No more "one day these events will not hurt to recall the way they do now". In its stead: "only healing that looks a specific way and follows a specific path is acceptable - anything else and you are simply a poor fool lying to yourself."

The following quote is from a comment left on a video of Halsin's original dialogue in that scene, before the changes, and is just one example of how much that representation meant to more than just me to see:

That said, Halsin is trauma recovery goals for me absolutely. Being able to remember without actually being triggered? Being able to fully and freely engage HOW ID LIKE TO instead of being fettered by trauma responses? Goals. I don’t know if I’ll ever get there 100%, we don’t get elven lifetimes irl, but his level of healing brings me hope.

Ultimately, this post is not meant to argue that you should agree with me that one is better than the other. More so, I want to highlight that this existed — for many people, this was their experience of events and characters, and that is not so easily redacted. And I also want to just state, for the record, that Larian's way of approaching narrative and characterization changes to their full-release game has been incredibly frustrating. I did not agree, in August, to play an Early Access game with the inherent understanding that any potential narrative aspect might change at any time. I purchased a full-release game, and immersed myself in the story and the characters, to get to know them as the writers had originally presented.

And when Larian makes these changes based on fan feedback, they are explicitly making decisions about which fans matter, and specifically, which fans matter most. Rather than allowing everyone to experience the story they decided to tell, and draw from it what they take away, and let that spark discussion and engagement, they made the decision to defer to some fans over others, and prioritize their experience of the narrative — something that, no matter how well-intended, is always going to leave a bitter taste in my mouth.

#voidling speaks #bg3 #bg3 meta #my meta #it feels insane to have to do archival work for a six month old game #but here we are #halsin #larian #larian critical #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 halsin #meta

[buckyysdoll]

— “𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭’𝐬 𝐚 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥” —

જ⁀➴ — 18+ MDNI — summary: literally just sex; a/n: i edited this drunk at 3.30am in a hotel room, so i can only apologise; cw: sort of dark! bucky (eg brief choking), p in v, use of pet names “sweetheart, doll”; pairing: bucky x f!reader

MAIN MASTERLIST

The pounding of his cock was relentless, driving deep until he bottomed out in full. He retreated some inches — yielding little, giving less — and over again was the strong, hard length of him inside you. The only sounds in the room were lewd as he took his sweet time taking you, twin breaths coming heavy as you both tried and failed to regain a composure that just wouldn’t come.

You’d been at it for hours by now, and yet release could not be chased despite how hard you tried.

He’d groaned at the first slide of his cock into your warmth, and the narrative had been coming ever since — an endless stream. Who knew Bucky Barnes — the damn Winter Soldier — was so vocal in bed? Though if there was one person who wouldn’t complain it was you; you could barely form words as it was.

“Fuck” was the first word he'd said, though, and now was a mantra he could only repeat. It had been drawn out and lost in his throat but was now more assertive — he had taken control.

As if you’d ever not been at the mercy of his words and heated touch; as if anything else could ever rule you the same way that he could:

So damn absolutely.

For in an instant of him being within you, you had pulled him in so tight that you felt his cock strain, muscles tensing. You’d clawed at his back and Bucky had tried damn fucking hard not to come there and then; it was an effort to allow you to adjust to his length without letting his release spill inside.

The truth? You really just felt that fucking good. It seemed as though you had been made just for him.

It was because of this, all for this then, that you were now still lying spread on your back, wet thighs hot with your thorough arousal and the multiple times tonight you’d already come. You were so sore, so thoroughly ruined, that even a slight shiver of touch made you ache, but he’d have you in any way that he could until he thoroughly owned you.

He had told you as much.

But it was praise that now fell from those beautiful lips that were parted in the absence of breath; as he pushed further and deeper inside you, a litany of curses blessed the words that he spoke.

Bucky’s mouth was hot and wet in the curve between your shoulder and neck, stirring your nerves with each depraved word that he spoke into your skin like a prayer.

Like you were all he could see.

"Fuck yes, that's a good girl. Taking me so well, I’d think you're made for this cock." There it was again — that soft, soft praise. So warming that it heated both your heart and your core, too.

Indeed, the words were further pronounced with a harder, deeper thrust of his hips, and a spasm of pleasure flushed into your stomach at the truer, slanted angle of him in you.

When you started to clench on him, around him, the change was apparent and well known to Bucky; you were so close to finally coming again that as it neared you could barely even breathe through it.

For hours, you’d been edged and barely coherent with the need he'd openly refused, not deigning to satiate the ache between your legs and only wanting to build it.

You were fucking desperate.

It didn’t matter that your pussy had clenched on his tongue as he fucked you with his mouth just before, holding your hips down despite your protests that the feeling was too much, that you just couldn’t bear it.

Neither did your body care that so too had it been him that had urged you to take his fingers, and you'd already come on his cock enough times that you craved to only feel that full again.

You needed more.

And so it was that since then he’d been edging you into a mess. Only good girls got to come so many times in just one night.

And good girls begged.

Bucky had taunted that even now, after coming so much, it wouldn’t ever be enough — you were so cockdrunk that he thought, why even let you have more? Your pleasure was something only he could give so freely.

And you hadn’t yet earned it again.

The quiet mocking in his voice was almost enough, and you were so so close that it hurt. But —

If you could just “hold it" like he'd ordered, he said, then would come your last reward. And as it happened you had, and this now was it:

His cock again, again, and again.

The splinters of memory from your drawn-out night were now interrupted by Bucky's voice again at your ear, his vibranium hand so cool in its kiss as it held to your throat, giving just enough pressure.

You were compliant in his arms and he knew it, adored it, soaked up every single second of submission.

"How can such a good girl also be such a whore for me, hm? You're letting me use you like this, doll, just letting me take you however I want.”

You couldn't say a thing, could only whimper. Thoughts surfaced and broke. The sure, steady feeling of Bucky inside you getting rougher by the minute had you so sensitive that the threat of release coiled up through your stomach before you could stop it.

It was a good job then that he noticed the look in your eyes, in your tear-stained cheeks. That your fractured, desperate whimper of "Please" as you clutched to his back was at last granted some mercy.

But first —

"Tell me who you belong to." His tone was commanding, pure masculine authority. Now though, so lost to heat, you could barely make his words out through too much stimulation. Your entire world had narrowed to the thick, hard length inside you as he pushed in to your warmth, pulled out. Again and again and again.

And oh, fuck. Oh God, you were close. So close to coming that you wanted to weep.

You might've even actually done it but no shock of tears fell from your heavy-lidded eyes, and then a sharp little pull at your skin was revealed as Bucky’s teeth at your shoulder, impatient.

It was just as much warning as you'd get this time, but then your mouth regained its power to talk. All at once you came to realise that you hadn’t yet replied; Bucky’s order — the command in his voice — had so far been ignored.

And he didn’t like that.

"You Bucky, just you. Just you. " God, you were so close again but he just didn't even care. Every time your sex clenched and Bucky’s cock twitched in response, he only pulled out every time.

Or almost every. Not anymore.

Bucky now needed that wetness to coat him, needed to feel you tight and warm around his cock as you came. Needed to let himself go to release in the one place on earth he ever wanted to, now.

And so your admission broke the bonds of his subtle control, and he just ground out “Say it again." You did, and repeated it over and again with each thrust of his hips, with each groan.

You meant it and felt it with each piece of your heart as you mounted that swift sure precipice, building up higher even still as the tightly wound coil of arousal in you threatened to spill.

And so, with breath hitched and hips rolling up to match his own, your body frantic with the need to come again even after so much you'd been granted, you clenched around his cock at last as your vision was drowned in white, all and only for him.

Dark spots pricked at your coherence until every part of you was fused with Bucky, your nails at his back a last reminder that he anchored you to earth as a shattering orgasm swept you up in its tide.

And didn’t let go.

It was only a mere second later that Bucky's own thrusts grew less controlled, and his breathing pitched lower and far more erratic as he pounded, hips rolling as he came.

An ocean of warmth descended in the space between your thighs, and you still clawed at his back with weak fingers as soft aftershocks wracked through you with the force of your release.

Spent, Bucky stayed in you long after both of your breathing had slowed, his mouth and tongue working softly to soothe the bold, purple marks his teeth had made at your chest. Time passed that could’ve been minutes or hours and you spent it in blissed-out silence, your head to his chest and his heartbeat calming beneath your ear.

It was your favourite sound.

The only break in the quiet was him saying in a whisper, “Get some sleep, sweetheart.” And with his hands stroking down through your hair in such slow, soothing moves, your eyes at last drifted closed.

The last thing you heard was once again that soft praise: “You were so good for me,” and then darkness.

✪ ✪ ✪ ✪ ✪

#fanfic #s. smut ๋࣭ ⭑ #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes hcs #james bucky barnes #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x stark!reader #bucky barnes x plus size reader #bucky barnes x curvy!reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x female!reader #bucky barnes x wife!reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes smut

[straylightdream]

“𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐈 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐈 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐈 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭“

Lee Minho x F.Reader

friends with benefits / roommates au / college au

↳ The lines between friends and lovers is quick to blur. There isn’t anyone you would rather spend your time with, and he finds his sweet escape when he’s alone with you. What started out as casual thing that was supposed to be secret kept between the two of you leads to so much more.

wc: 5.8k

warnings: soft dom! Minho, unprotected sex, rougher sex, dirty talk, begging, edging, names such as: (kitten, angel, pretty), breeding kink, creampie, cockwarming, cum play and cum eating. Minho mentions knocking up the reader.

an: I probably didn’t edit this enough. This is a part of my college skz series SSFW where you can read one or all the stories. Each boys story weaves together but they can be read as ones shots. Thank you @sulfurcosmos for helping me with this stories and all my other stories.

Part two

𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬.

Rough hands grip your hips as he thrust into you from behind. Your hands grip the headboard holding on for dear life. Biting your bottom lip you try your hardest not to scream his name. 

“Minho,” you moan, his name barely loud enough for him to hear. He bends over so his body is pressed against yours as his hips snap into yours. His hand reaches around covering your mouth attempting to muffle the sounds coming out of your mouth. Muffled moans leave your mouth as his lips are brushing your ear. The feeling you get when you’re with him is like nothing you have ever experienced before. 

“That's it angel, your tight pussy is sucking me in,” he whispers into your ear. His pace is rough and quick and you can’t get enough. “How are you still so tight after I’ve fucked you so many times?” he whispers filthy words into your ear. 

“I think it’s time you came, angel,” he growls in your ear. 

Like a command your orgasm washes over you. Your walls contract milking him. Your head falls forward as silent moans pass your lips. Biting your lip you try your hardest to hold back making noise. Hyunjin is home and the last thing you need right now is him hearing you. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna fill you to the brim,” Minho moans in your ear.

He snaps his hips into your two more times before painting your walls white. His hand grip your hips, holding you flush against his hips as he rocks into you a few times. His hands leave your skin as he pulls out of you. Rolling onto your back you take slow deep breaths trying to calm down. Your legs are left spread and bent at the knees. An accelerating high washes over you. 

Minho sits back on his hunches between your spread legs. He runs his fingers through your wet folds. His release is already slowly seeping out of you. Using one finger he pushes his cum back into you. Leaving his fingers in you for a long moment. You watch him as he intently stares at your sensitive core. 

“You’re so obsessed with coming inside me. It’s almost like you want to get me pregnant,” you laugh. 

“Believe me angel I’m not trying to get you pregnant, but it wouldn’t be the worst thing if you did.” The idea of having a child with him isn’t terrible. Minho would make a great father and with his genes that kid would be beautiful. “To be honest you would look good pregnant though. Especially with my kid.”

His fingers run through your slick collecting some of his release. He brings it up to your mouth and your lips part, taking his fingers into your mouth. Your tongue swirls around his finger, getting every bit of his release off his digits. 

“It’s a good thing I’m on the pill then,” you smile. 

“I wasn’t like this before you. The thought of coming inside someone didn’t turn me on until you,” he leans forward, pressing a kiss to your bent knee. “You're the first girl I’ve come inside. Hell you’re the first person I have ever had sex without a condom.”

It’s nice to know he appreciates you, and knows the fact that you trust him enough to have unprotected sex with you is a big deal. 

“So your breeding kink is only because of me?” You raise your eyebrows suggestively. 

He scoffs rolling his eyes at you. 

“Well you’re the only guy who has ever been inside me without a condom,” you reach up grabbing his hand so he’ll lay down with you. You share a type of trust with Minho you’ve never shared with another person before. He’s someone you trust to do anything with your body. You know no matter what he would never do anything that would make you uncomfortable. 

“To be honest you’ve made me a different person. I wasn’t exactly social before college. Back in highschool I kept to myself. I was never someone with a huge group of friends or someone who went to parties. If I wasn't roommates with Changbin, who knows how college would have gone for me.”

“I’m glad you were roommates with him, because it led you to me.”

He leans over kissing the tip of your nose, “pretty I’m glad it led me to you.”

Having sex wasn’t a new thing for you and Minho. In August before senior year of college started you started sleeping with your roommate. Changbin went home with Jisung to see their families and Hyunjin was so busy at his art studio he was rarely home. You were home alone with Minho and after a night of watching movies you got to talking about your sex lives and one thing led to another and you were naked on the living room floor with Minho head between your legs. It wasn’t a one time thing by any means. You and Minho were constantly hanging out like you used to and now most of the time the night ended with either you sneaking off to his room or him sneaking into yours once he thought it was safe. Your nights spent with Minho we’re your little secret. You decided after your first night together you didn’t want to tell your friends. You told him if something happened and you stopped your arrangement you didn’t want your friends in your business. 

“Do you think Hyunjin is still here?” Minho asks.

“I don’t know, why?” 

“Because I need a shower before going to Chan and Jisung’s, and you should probably shower with me. I need to clean you up after the mess I made of you.”

Getting out of bed he reaches on the floor for his boxers. He pulls them up his thick legs before walking over to your closet. He pulls out the black silk robe he bought you when you bought a set of lace lingerie, because he said he saw it and thought of you. 

“Who should sneak off into the bathroom first?” Minho asks, handing you the robe. 

“You should go first and I’ll meet you there. Don’t lock the door.”

He slips out of your room while you get up pulling in the silk robe. You give Minho a minute to get the water warmed up, and you hope that Hyunjin won’t notice you joining Minho in the bathroom. Opening the door into the steaming bathroom You lock the door and take off your robe sitting on the counter next to Minho boxers. Sliding the glass door open, you step into the water. He’s in the process of washing his hair. He steps back under the warm water rinsing away your mango scented shampoo. He steps aside letting you step under the warm water. You lean your head forward letting the water hit. 

“Have I told you recently you’re beautiful?” you look up at him. His eyes are intensely trained on your wet body. You can’t help but smile. He steps closer to you holding a washcloth. There is something about the look in his eyes that always makes you weak in the knees. “I need to clean you up. I made a mess.” He’s always like this after you let him come inside you. Minho’s aftercare has always been great with you. Minho told you once if you’re sleeping together it’s his job to take care of you. 

“How crazy do we think Honey’s birthday party is gonna get?” You ask as he finishes wiping away his release from in between your legs. 

“Probably not. She doesn’t exactly like wild parties.” 

You work on washing your hair with the same mango shampoo Minho used. 

There is a knock on the door and you freeze in your spot. “Minho are you in there?” Hyunjin shouts. 

You open your mouth and Minho’s hand covers it quickly. You weren’t going to say anything. You were just startled by the interruption. 

“Yeah Hyunjin?”

“I think YN, already left but I’m heading over to Chan and Jisung’s place, I might meet Felix and Cherry there” he shouts over the noise of the water. 

“Okay, see you at the party,” Minho shouts. 

His hand stays covering your mouth for a few months after. Removing it you look up at him with wide eyes. Leaning forward he presses his lips to yours for a kiss. “We almost got caught,” he whispers with his lips close to yours. 

“It’s okay we didn’t,” you smile. 

Leaning forward he presses his lips to yours for a kiss. He can’t seem to get enough of you and that’s okay because you can’t get enough of him. Things with Minho are easy. You don’t feel like you have to put an effort in to make things work between. You have this perfect little thing between you. You have absolutely amazing sex, but you have this amazing friendship with him. Most days it’s rare if you don’t hang out with him after class, or eat dinner together. With Changbin having a girlfriend and Hyunjin being interested in Felix's roommate they’re both rarely home. For the most part it’s just you and Minho like it has been since you moved in with them. Even before both of your other roommates were busy with other people you were always with Minho. You started sleeping together long before the other two got into relationships. You didn’t think anything had really changed between you except for what happened when you were alone in bed. 

Your past relationships with men hadn’t been anything thrilling. You were still with your high school sweetheart freshmen year of college and then that fizzled out. Sophomore year you dated another guy and you got to really find yourself but there was just something in your heart telling you needed to stay guarded. Your bond with Minho seemed to happen as soon as you met. Even when you had a boyfriend Minho and you were still close. You lived with Chan’s girlfriend freshman and sophomore year. When junior year rolled around she rented a one room apartment off of campus. Changbin and Minho wanted to move off campus and found a four bedroom townhome not too far from campus. One of Minho’s classmates, Hyunjin, wanted to move in but they still needed another roommate. You had originally been trying to find your own one bedroom studio but gave up when Minho told you they still needed one more roommate. 

Adjusting to living with three guys was interesting. Luckily you were friends with them already and they all were nice and respected you. 

-

Chan and Jisung’s house was always the place for parties. You remember the small arguments Jisung and his girlfriend had about him throwing her a birthday party. The house is filled with friends, it’s quite a small gathering compared to the other parties the boys have thrown in the past. Walking into the kitchen looking for Minho you find an unsuspecting Chan with his best friend turned girlfriend pinned to the wall. His lips are all over her neck with her eyes closed. She looked like she was desperately trying to hold back a moan. 

Clearing your throat they pull apart and Chan’s cheeks immediately blush. His girlfriend on other hand seems way less embarrassed. 

“Chan don’t you literally have a room here you can do that in?” Minho says walking up behind you. 

Chan is left speechless and his face and tips of his ears are burning bright red. Bambi on the other hand is unfazed by Minho's comment. 

“Minho let’s leave the love birds alone,” reaching down you grab his hand pulling him out of the kitchen.  

The living room is filled with friends of Jisung, Chan, and Changbin. Changbin is standing on the staircase whispering in his girlfriend's ear standing very close to them and Jisung is playing beer pong while his girlfriend Honey is sitting on the couch with Felix talking. There’s a mix of other people who are friends with the rest of the boys in one way or another. Minho disappeared off to the kitchen and walking over you sat down on the couch next to Felix. 

“I feel like I never see you anymore,” Felix pokes your side earning a smile from you. 

“This last semester of school has been hard and getting into my nursing program hasn’t been easy,” think back to all your late nights studying and the difficult test you’ve been taking. 

“How have you two been?” You look between Felix and Honey who is sitting right next to him. 

“School is going good and my job is nice. I still spend most of my Friday nights at work with Jisung sitting in the library so I’m glad that didn’t change.” You remember before you had even met Honey you heard Jisung go on and on about the library girl that he brings strawberry lattes to. 

“This second year of college has been rougher but okay. Having a new roommate has been interesting,” he says. Felix's roommate is an interesting girl. She’s very sweet but kind of a hot mess. She comes from an extremely wealthy but controlling family. She’s been trying her hardest to be an independent person away from them but it hasn’t been easy. 

“Did Cherry come to the party?” You’re curious about where his roommate is. 

“Where do you think Hyunjin is?” He smirks. 

“Wasn't Hyunjin going to play beer pong with Jisung?”

“Cherry showed up a few minutes ago and that means Hyunjin will be by her side,” Felix smiles. 

“Poor guy's head over heels for her,” Honey chimes in. 

“I’ve told her she has to be gentle with him,” Felix responds. “I don’t know all about Hyunjin's past but I know he doesn’t date or anything like that. I told her he’s quite innocent.”

You remember one of the first times Hyunjin brought Cherry over to your place. She looked like she had been crying when she showed up late at night and the next morning when you found her and Hyunjin eating breakfast in the kitchen. From the stories you had heard about Cherry from Felix and Hyunjin you were a little worried she would hurt Hyunjin but after talking to her once when Hyunjin went off to his room you realized she’s a sweet girl. 

“Hyunjin can be naive and want to see the good in people, but I told Cherry one day I know she won’t break his heart,” you made her promise she only had good intentions with your friend. 

You watch as Hyunjin walks into the living room with his hand on Cherry’s lower back. The way she looks up at him you can tell she truly cares about him. You’ve seen him bring her into your apartment a handful of times with her makeup running down her face after she looks like she’s been crying. Hyunjin has become her person. From what you have seen he’s always there to pick her up when she’s had a fight with her parents or just needs someone to hold her. You can’t help but watch him as he stands by the doorway to the kitchen. Cherry is dressed in an expensive looking dress and her lips are that glossy cherry color they always seem to be. You don’t know the full details of Hyunjin’s relationships with this girl. You aren’t sure if they’re sleeping together or anything like that. You just know he’s kissed her before because he’s come home late before with her red lipstick stained on the side of his mouth. 

Honey’s birthday party is a fun time. After Jisung wins his beer pong game he pulls his girlfriend off the couch and makes her stand in front of a cake as the room filled with all our friends sings happy birthday to her. Jisung puts a dab of frosting on her nose before he kisses her. 

The party is fun and it’s nice to actually get out of the apartment and not have to worry about studying. Minho stands next to you barely leaving any space between you. Leaning over Minho lips, brushing your ear, “when can we go home? I’m too tired for this.”

Out of your whole friend group Minho has always been the one who isn’t a fan of parties. Most parties normally consist of you and Minho skipping them all together or leaving early. 

“We can leave now if you want. Did you just want to sleep?”

“Can we get food and then cuddle?” He asks. 

You say your goodbyes to Jisung and Honey, noticing that Chan and Bambi are nowhere to be seen. Finding Changbin in the kitchen with his girlfriend and Hyunjin you let your roommates know you guys are heading out. Walking out of the house Minho arm is over your shoulder holding you close by. You get into Minho's car and he drives off to his favorite ramen place that is open late. You’ve spent countless late nights at this place between studying or just hanging out with Minho. Minho doesn’t even look at the menu; he just rattles off both your orders to the waitress the moment she walks over. Minho presents in your life has been a source of comfort and security for a long time. Becoming roommates just made him truly become your best friend. 

“Do you think Bin is coming home tonight?” You ask as Minho takes a drink of his hot tea. 

He shrugs his shoulders and takes another drink. “If he does it’s fine. If he comes home he’ll probably have Kitten with him.”

Changbin and his girlfriend rarely slept alone at night. They tended to rotate from staying at your apartment or her apartment. 

“Do you think Bambi and Chan will be the first to move in together?” Between the three boys that have girlfriends you’ve been wondering which pair would move in with their significant other first. 

“Chan and Jisung have a nice house together and Bambi likes her apartment a lot. I don’t think they would move in together. I think if anything Kitten might move in with us.” You have to say you agree with him. Changbin and Kitten seem to be the closest to moving in together. 

“What about Jisung and Honey?” 

“I could see Jisung moving out with Honey too. I think if he did Changbin would probably ask us if we’re cool with him moving in with Chan.” For some reason the idea of Changbin moving out makes you a little sad. You’ve grown to be really close with him since living with him, but you know his best friends are Chan and Bambi so I would make sense. 

“Don’t be sad Angel, Bin isn’t leaving anytime soon.”

The waitress comes out bringing too hot bowls of ramen. Your late dinner with Minho is delicious like always. The hot broth of the ramen warms you up, making you feel good. 

Walking into your apartment you kick off your shoes. Minho takes off his own shoes before leaning forward and pressing his lips to yours for a gentle kiss. 

“Your bed or mine?” He pulls off his jacket and lets out a yawn. 

“Let’s go to my room,” follows you off towards your room. You make quick work of getting dressed for bed. You pull on just an oversized shirt and a pair of small shorts. Minho strips down to a pair of lounge shorts he leaves in your room. You both stand in the bathroom brushing your teeth before heading off to your room again. 

Crawling into bed with you watch as Minho walks around your room. He strips off his shirt leaving him in nothing but his boxers. His beautiful skin is on full display. He pushes his fingers through his hair letting out another yawn. Joining you in bed he wastes zero time pulling you against his body so he’s spooning you from behind. When he suggested leaving the party you fully thought your night was going to end with you once again naked and moaning his name. You didn’t expect him to just want to cuddle. Pressing his lips gently to your shoulder you can’t help but smile. 

“You only want to cuddle?”

“I just want to hold you,'' he whispers. There is this feeling you have that's been creeping up more and more that Minho isn’t just your friend. You feel things for him you don’t feel for your other friends. 

“I want you to hold me,” you whisper. 

-

This semester has been extra hard for you. Your senior year of college isn’t nearly as easy as you thought it was going to be. You have a huge test next week and you just finished a ten page essay you were beginning to think you were never going to finish. A few friends were going out to the bar tonight and they had invited you, but you had to decline so you could get some more studying in. 

“YN do you want to order dinner while we study tonight?” Minho sets his laptop on your bed in front of you. 

“Why aren’t you going to the bar with Bambi and Chan?” You thought he might go out tonight after you heard him talking to Changbin before Changbin left for class. 

“Why would I go there when you’re staying home?” He knits his eyebrows together and looks at you like you’re insane. 

“You are aware you’re allowed to have fun without me right?” Minho doesn’t normally do anything social if you don’t go with him you’ve come to notice. 

“I know that. Let’s be honest Changbin and Kitten will show up and to be honest I don’t want to watch him feel her up every chance he gets.” He’s not lying basically since the moment Changbin and his girlfriend have gotten together Changbin can’t seem to keep his hands to himself. He’s been head over heels for her long before they started dating and ever since they finally got together he’s always touching her. 

“So instead you would rather study with me?“

“I also have a huge test coming up. I thought senior year was gonna be easier and then I decided to apply for grad school,” he sighs, laying down on the bed next to you. 

“It’s okay Minho,” you pat the top of his head. “If we get enough studying done maybe you can feel me up.”

He looks up, cocking his eyebrow. “Are we talking about feel,” he motions his hands. “Or are we talking about me filling you to the brim.”

You scoff, pushing his shoulder, “you are literally obsessed with coming inside me.”

“Can you blame a guy?” He laughs. 

“I guess not,” you lean down pressing his lips to yours. 

Minho is one of the best study partners you’ve had. He’s actually helpful and can easily focus on a task when he needs to. 

Studying for this huge test seems to have melted your brain. Sitting on the bed with your back against the headboard and your legs across Minho’s lap as he sits in the middle of the bed. Biting down on the burger Minho ordered you, your eyes are trained on the side of Minho's head as he’s focused on the book he’s holding. He made a big deal about you eating your food before it got cold but can’t bring himself to put down the book he’s reading. 

“Minho,” you say. 

Lifting his head looks over at you and blinks rapidly a few times trying to focus. “Yes?”

“What happened to eating while it’s hot?” 

“I was trying to finish this chapter,” he closes the book, setting it down on the bed next to him. He picks up his burger and finally starts to eat. Things between you are comfortable just like they always are. 

“Minho I don’t want to study anymore you,” you whine between taking bites. A soft laugh leaves his lips. His hand that isn’t holding his burger reaches down and rubs your calf. “My brain can’t take anymore information tonight.”

“Okay, no more studying.”

“After eating if you massage my back I’ll give you a reward,” Minho giving you any type of massage is one of your favorite ways to relieve stress.  

He takes one final bite of his burger chewing slowly before looking over at you smirking, “can my reward be I get to fuck your brains out?”

Your stomach flips at the thought of having rough passionate sex with Minho. You could just picture it now him having you bent over the closet surface while he pounds into you. 

“Anything you want,” you rub your foot gently across his Jean over soft cock. He groans, biting his lip. You feel his erection start to grow before he grabs you by the ankle. He gets up so he’s sitting on the bed next to you and taps between his spread legs. Getting up you move so you’re sitting in front of him. He starts massaging your neck first. His finger works your tissue massaging away your tension. 

“Did you want to get dinner Friday?” He says casually as he continues his work on your shoulders. 

“Just the two of us?” You go out often just the two of you, but the way he’s asking makes it sound more like a date then it normally does. 

“Obviously.”

“Yeah I'm down for dinner.”

He finishes massaging you and both take all your studying materials off the bed. It takes little effort before he has you born completely naked. Laying on your back with your legs spread, Minho's hardened cock fits snugly inside you as your lips move together. He’s shown no signs of moving. He seems absolutely content just kissing you. He’s resting on his elbow with his body right on top of yours. Everything about him is consuming you and you never want it to end. 

You push your fingers through his hair pulling his lips away from yours. A crooked smile pulls at his lips. 

“What happened to I’m going to fuck your brains out?” 

“I’ll do it later, right now I want to savor my sweet reward,” he whispers.

The way he kisses you sends butterflies to your stomach. 

“Do you think Changbin or Hyunjin know about this?” You’ve wondered for a while if any of your friend group knows what goes on behind closed doors between you and Minho. 

“Are you worried they know we’re lovers?” he purrs before between kisses across your jaw. 

“Minho,” you whisper his name. 

“Pretty I could care less if anyone knows what we do. The only person’s opinion I care about when it comes to you and I, is yours.”

“I have a feeling Changbin has caught us,” you say knowing that your room is right by Changbin’s. “He always makes comments calling us love birds, and he seems more observant than Hyunjin.” You know Hyunjin’s mind is quite preoccupied between his art and whatever he has with Felix’s roommate. 

“I don’t care if he knows. I’m not trying to hide you. I would have no issue kissing you at one of Chan and Jisung’s parties. Or right out in front of Bin and Hyunjin.”

He’s staring into your eyes like you truly are the only thing that matters to him. Running your hands up and down his back you can’t help but smile at him. 

“I’m not some dirty little secret?”

“Pretty, you are definitely dirty, but you have never been my secret.” 

You can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips. “Is dirty a bad thing?”

“God no. Not when it comes to you pretty.”

Ever so slowly he rolls his hips into yours. His lips are all over the sensitive skin on your neck. He gently sucks on the juncture where your neck and shoulder meet. Your leg latches over his back resting just above his cute butt. He thrust into you at a slow but firm pace. Sex with Minho doesn’t normally happen in the missionary position, you learned early on that Minho is a fan of taking you from behind. Being able to see his beautiful face while he thrust into you turns you on even more. Your hand tangles in his hair and pulls his head back lightly. He removes his lips from your and smirks as he looks down at you.

“Lee Minho, I like you a lot,” you moan.

“Oh my pretty angel I like you a lot too.”

He sits up on his hunches and works on continuing to thrust into you at that same slow but firm pace. He leans over taking your hands. He laces your fingers together pinning your hands above your head. He thrust into you a little bit harder earning a gasp. 

“Minho,” you moan.

“Yeah Pretty?”

“I’m so close,” you moan.

Releasing your hands he moves so he’s hovering right over you again. His hands are on each side of your head. You wrap your legs around his body holding him as close to you as possible. With each thrust he hits the gummy part deep inside you earning loud moans from you. You’re so happy nobody is home that you and Minho can be as loud as you want. As you get closer and closer to finding your release Minho is there to coax you closer and closer to the edge.

“Pretty, can you come for me?” His words are intoxicating.

Silently you nod your head desperately wanting to come. “Minho, if I come will you come inside me?” you’re begging him. You want anything you will give you.

“That’s why you’re my girl angel. Come for me and I’ll come inside this tight pussy. I’ll fill you to the brim,” he groans.

A white hot wave washes over you. You see spots as your walls contract around his still hard length. “Your pussy was made for me,” he groans as his thrust grows sloppier. 

With one particular deep thrust he finds his own release painting your wall. He sits back on his hunches pulling out of you slowly. His eyes are glued to your core as his release slowly drips out of you. He drags two fingers through your lips collecting his release. He looks at the milky liquid before gently pushing it back into your sensitive hole. 

“Pretty?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re all mine. I don’t ever want to share you,” he hops off the bed and leaves you alone. He comes back with a warm washcloth. Your legs are still spread and waiting for him. He cleans up the mess he made and comes back to bed. You get under the covers and lay on your side. Your body feels absolutely spent after the passionate sex you just had with the man you’re in bed with.

Staring at him laying in bed next to you. He scrolled through his phone smiling at something. It feels like a light switch suddenly clicked. There is a warmth that takes over your chest. Nobody in your life matters to you quite like Lee Minho. The boy who was your friend, turned roommate, turned lover. You realized then that you were indeed head over heels in love with him. Sitting up you stare at him for a long moment studying his face.

“Minho, do you love me?” You wanted a straightforward answer, you didn’t want to play games.

“Yeah of course?” He sets his phone down on his nightstand.

“I don’t mean as a friend. Are you in love with me?.” He knits his eyebrows together and give you that signature smirk he gives people he when he thinks they're dumb.

“Yeah? Why? Of course I love you.” He said it like it was something that was completely common knowledge.

“Doesn’t it seem weird that all our friends are in happy relationship and we just have sex and do everything they do but we don’t tell them that?”

“Angel of course it’s weird, but if you want to date and have the boyfriend and girlfriend titles we can. But know you’ve been my girlfriend in my head since September,” he leans over with his lips close to yours. “You’re the only thing that I think I got right.” He leans forward pressing his lips to yours for a searing kiss “Should I formally ask you?”

You can’t help but smile, “yeah.”

“YN, you are the girl I literally spend every day of my life with. You’re the girl that Changbin literally refers to as my girlfriend. Will you be my girlfriend?”

“Obviously,” you lean forward pressing your lips to his.

-

The next morning you and Minho are in the kitchen making breakfast. More so he’s making breakfast while you make two cups of coffee. Kitten just left saying she had something she had to do and Changbin and Hyunjin joined you in the kitchen. It’s rare all four of you are home at the same time these days. 

He leans forward pressing his lips to yours. Changbin lets out a laugh as Hyunjin stares at you and your boyfriend with a very confused look on his face. 

“Does this mean you aren’t just fuck buddies anymore?” Changbin asks. Your eyes can’t help but go wide at Changbin’s response. 

“Wait what?” Hyunjin can’t get the confused look off his face.

“To be honest I don’t know who was more clueless. Hyunjin… or you two.” Changbin laughs as he pats Hyunjin on the back.

“Have you guys been sleeping together for months?” Hyunjin asks.

“I’ve known about it since December but I would bet money it’s been going on way longer,” Changbin says.

“You’ve known since December?” You can’t believe Changbin didn’t tell you before now that he knew. Minho just laughs wrapping his arms around your stomach from behind. 

“Hey it wasn’t my place to say anything especially if you guys hadn’t said anything. Let’s be honest even though you have been acting like a couple for way longer than December, the most your two do in front of everyone is hold hands and sometimes Minho likes to cuddle you like the cat he is.”

“Are you officially together?” Hyunjin asks.

“Yeah I have considered her to be my girlfriend since like September,” Minho finally speaks up.

“Yes we’re official and we plan on letting the rest of the group know,” you say.

Soon Hyunjin leaves telling everyone he needs to go see Cherry and Changbin heads over to his class on campus. You’re left alone with your boyfriend and you can’t help but smile.

“I knew Changbin knew,” you say.

“Somehow Changbin always knows,“ he says before pressing his lips to yours.

#stray kids #stray kids x reader #stray kids smut #stray kids college au #stray kids au #lee minho #lee minho smut #lee minho x reader #lee minho x you #stray kids x you #lee know #lee know smut #lee know fanfiction #lee minho fanfiction #lee know x reader #lee know x you #changbin #seo changbin #hwang hyunjin #skz #skz smut #skz hard hours #skz scenarios #kpop smut #ssfw #lover of mine

[ghostofwriting]

Kildare Split Part Three: Bleach

Rafe Cameron x Reader

Chapter 3: Bleach

Note: Hi! I love you all so much, thank you for reading and being absolutely wonderful. Here is Chapter Three, it covers the smau basically up until Rafe blocks Topper. Still no answers on that 💋

Warnings: none, not edited, angst, swearing, sadness, julio.

Word Count: 5,343

Synopsis: Everyone has noticed that there's been a shift in how Kildare Split acts around each other. Rafe and Y/N used to be so close, they were always pictured together, and always shared stories of each other and for the last few years, there has been nothing from them. A behind-the-scenes look at what went down between everyone's favourite band.

Chapter Three: Bleach

That didn’t go how he planned it. He hurt her inconceivable amounts and it’s not going to be easy to get her to forgive him. He needs to work for it, he knows that. Hearing her say that she meant nothing to him when she meant the world to him hurts more than he could have ever imagined. He’s so mad at himself for ever saying those same things to her. He doesn’t deserve her. He knows that too. He’s always been selfish when it comes to her though, he needs her back. He needs to figure out how to talk to her first. 

“Let me get this straight, you told her to listen to your album for what?”

“To understand what I’m feeling.”

“Rafe, the girl doesn’t need to understand what you’re feeling, she needs you to apologize to her.” His dad’s voice comes through the speaker. He was getting ready for bed when Ward called.

“The album is like an apology.” He tells his dad like it’s obvious. 

“Unless you have a song in that thing that says ‘Y/N I’m sorry,’ for 3 minutes straight, she’s not going to hear it as an apology. She’s going to take it as an excuse.”

“I’m just so ashamed, I don’t know how to approach it.” he stares at the phone screen, a picture of his dad and Wheezie stares back at him.

“I miss you, dad.”

“I miss you too, son. You’ll be home soon and we’ll go golfing, how about that?” Rafe smiles softly. 

His relationship with his dad hasn't always been this good. When he chose music over a ‘real’ career, his dad almost disowned him. Y/N had been the one to talk Ward out of it. Giving him a plan that if they didn’t make it in two years, she would drag him back by his ear and make him take over the company. They had to work their asses off but it happened, and Ward had accepted it. It had been a long road, they spent a lot of time not speaking to each other, communicating through Sarah. Ward hadn’t been to a single show before their first album was released. He remembers seeing Ward walk in next to Sarah and feeling his five-year-old self again, prepared to put on the best show for his dad to finally be proud of him. And he was, at the end of the night he hugged Rafe and told him everything he had ever wanted to hear from him. That he was proud of everything he had accomplished, that he was meant to perform, and that he loved him. 

And he owed it all to her. It always goes back to her. 

“That sounds great, Dad.”

“Have you talked to Sofia about this, you know girls, she might have some insight you don’t.”

“I don’t think Sofia’s up to giving me advice about Y/N.

“Rafe, this is only to get her back as your friend, correct? You and Sof are good?” Ward asks, concern lacing his voice.

“Yeah, of course. Sof and I are great.” Denial. Always in denial, Rafe Cameron.

“Okay well, I wish you luck with all of that. Get some rest. I’ll be out in a couple of weeks.”

“Bye Dad, love you,” Ward tells him he loves him too and hangs up. 

+++

Kiara of all people tells her to listen to his album. As if everyone else who’s telling her isn’t enough.

“Hold on, I thought I got you in the divorce?” Kie laughs at her joke. 

“You did, but I think you should listen to what he has to say.”

“Kie, he hasn’t even apologized in person, why should I?” She’s playing with the thread that’s hanging off of the comforter. 

“Because he’s always been better at explaining himself in song.” She says matter of factly.

“This is unbelievable.” Kie groans on the other side of the phone.

“Look, he’s a piece of shit and he was horrible to you. I know that, but god can he write.”

“I know he can. I work with him.” 

“Y/N.”

“Kie.” She mocks 

“Just listen.” She’s shaking her head and rolling her eyes, glad that Kie can’t see her. 

“Okay, whatever, I don't want to talk about this anymore. What happened between you and jayj?”

“Ha! Nope.” She whines, wanting to know the drama between her two friends.

Sarah walks in with Penny in her arms. They had gone for a walk, Y/N citing vocal rest to skip going out in the rain.

“Vocal rest but you’re talking on the phone?” Sarah calls her out.

“My baby!” Sarah drops the small dog on the hotel bed, Penny running into Y/N’s arms.

“Thanks, Sarah.” She pouts at her. 

“So what are we talking about?”

“Trying to get Y/N to listen to ‘Angel.’” Kie’s voice cuts through the speaker.

“Absolutely no use. She won’t.” Sarah says. She nods along agreeing with Sarah. 

It’s not that she can’t listen to the album. She doesn’t want to. Why should she care about whatever he said in the album when he can’t tell her directly? The last time they talked he didn’t say sorry, albeit she didn’t let him say sorry with her whole speech she had been internalizing for three years. Even still, if he had just opened with ‘sorry’ she might have been more inclined to listen to his stupid album. She already knew it was about her, what more could she possibly learn?

So why can’t she get the thought of listening to it out of her head? She’s alone now, her dog next to her, sleeping tucked between her pillow and her neck. Sarah went back to her room a few hours ago and Y/N’s been trying to go to sleep to no avail. 

So she plays the stupid album that she told Rafe to shove up his ass. 

By the end of the album, she’s angry again. It’s great. Of course, it is. It’s him and he’s amazingly talented. Everything he touches turns to gold and she despises him for it. The chord progressions the tempos, the synths. Everything is amazing. Even the stupid lyrics that she wishes she could hate. How dare he be so talented and make her hate him just a fraction less?

The lyrics bother her. ‘I bought a house to live in but you’re the home I’m missin'?’ His fault. ‘I watched the weeks fly by, I’m not myself when you’re not there.’ His fault. Again. ‘I’m not a sentimental guy, I need you in my life.’ Well Rafe Cameron, why do you think she’s not in your life? It’s like he’s trying to hide the fact that he completely obliterated her heart and is pretending that she just walked out on him.

Fuck you, Rafe. You don’t get to pretend.

+++

She hears Topper in the lobby of the hotel. He’s most likely the first one down here, waiting for the rest of them to wake up so they can take the car to the arena. 

She stands off to the side, their manager Ash, handing out their backstage badges. She sees Topper take two from Ash out of the corner of her eye. 

He extends the badge out to her for her to take and offers her a smile. 

“Thanks.” She tells him. 

“I know this is probably a long time coming and not the best place to have this conversation but I’m sorry.” She looks at him eyes wide, she tries to hide her shock, a small frown still visible on her face.

“Thanks.” She says again, not knowing how to respond to him. 

“I know I’ve been a shitty friend. I didn’t know how to act when everything went down. I knew about Sofia and I felt like I betrayed you. You were so hurt and I didn’t deserve your friendship. I let you isolate yourself and I’m sorry. I should have done better.”

She feels her eyes welling up. She won’t let herself cry. Not where anyone could see them.

“Yeah, you have been shitty.”

“Is it too late for you to forgive me?” She shakes her head, launching herself into his arms. Strangely it feels like coming home. She is finally hugging her best friend again. The guy who used to want to fight anyone who even looked at her wrong. 

“I missed you.” she breathes into his shoulder. 

“I missed you too, I’m sorry.” She lets go of him sniffling. She sees unshed tears in his eyes too. 

“It’s going to take some time for me to trust you, but I’ll work on it.”

“I will get on my knees, beg, and cry if you need me to.” She laughs

“I’ll let you know.”

As soon as the other two arrive, their badges are given to them and they all walk towards the car. She usually opts for sitting in the front ever since everything happened between them. She thinks that this time she can sit next to Topper. 

“Hey, Ash?” She calls for her manager's attention, “Mind if you sit in the front this time?” Ash looks at her surprised but nods her head anyway. 

“Of course, go.” She motions for Y/N to step into the car, Rafe and Barry look at her questioningly from the very back. She smiles at Topper and sits directly next to him, he offers her one of his airpods and she takes it. He’s listening to something she’s never heard and she doesn’t mind at all. For the first time in a long time, she doesn’t feel like the loneliest person in the car. 

Rafe burns holes into the backs of both their heads. What the fuck is going on?

+++

“So are you going down there for your anniversary?” He hears Sarah ask. She and Y/N are getting their lunch. 

“Ya, it works out perfectly with the tour ending just in time,” Y/N responds, 

“So are you expecting a ring?” His ears perk up at the question, willing everyone around him to shut up so he can hear her answer clearly. 

“I wouldn’t be opposed.” Y/N has a teasing tone to her voice and he feels like throwing up. He gets up from the table where he’s eating with Barry and Topper. His fork clanged against the plate as he stood up and stormed off. He can’t eat with the bile already rising in his throat. What’s wrong with him?

+++

He notices as Topper and Y/N fool around during their private soundcheck. They’re playing off each other, Y/N messing with his guitar as he sings into her microphone. He notices that it’s a little awkward but it’s better than it has been in years. He gives Barry another questioning look and Barry just shrugs. He makes a note to ask Topper what happened. 

“I can’t hear myself in my left ear, I just hear Barry’s excessive screeching,” Y/N speaks into her microphone at one of the sound techs. 

“Oh, I’m sorry we can’t all be professionally trained singers, princess.” Y/N scoffs. 

“You’re in a band Barry, maybe learn how to sing.”

“Why are you being such a bitch right now?”

“Hey!” Topper yells turning towards Barry, “cut that shit out.” Barry makes a face at Topper but drops it. 

“What the fuck is going on with you two?” Rafe asks, done with waiting to ask Topper after soundcheck. 

“Just have her back, man.”

“Since when?” He raises an eyebrow. 

“Since he apologized, maybe you should learn how to do that.” She purses her lips and instead of being annoyed, he can’t stop thinking about how cute she looks.

“I tried to apologize and all you did was yell at me for 10 minutes.”

“You didn’t try to apologize, Rafe! You tried to get me to listen to your album.”

“If you would have just heard me out.”

“What? I would know that you’re so apathetic it’s pathetic but you need me now? Or how about that you’re down on your hands and knees Beggin' me please, baby.”

“You listened.” He feels a sense of relief overtake him which is quickly washed away by her tone.

“Under duress.”

“What did you think?”

“I think it’s bold to sing songs about me when your girlfriend is ready to marry you.” He wants to deny that any of the songs are about her. It doesn’t work like that. Everyone knows. Instead of denying it or calling her conceited for thinking it’s about her, another question rises up and out of his mouth before he can stop it.

“Are you?”

“What?” She asks, confused. He wants to keep his mouth shut. Why does he need to know anything, why does he want to hurt his feelings so badly?

“Ready to marry him?” Oh, he’s so stupid.

“Yeah.” There is no hesitation in her answer and his heart breaks a little.

“Great.” He says shortly.

“Great.” She turns away from him and back to her microphone, talking to the tech until he gets the volume in her left ear right. He storms off the stage shoving his guitar into Topper’s chest, narrowly missing Topper’s guitar. 

+++

“What’s your problem?” They’re waiting to be called to the stage for their second soundcheck with the fans. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You have been insufferable all day, more than usual. I can usually ignore you, I’ve been doing it for a really long time but you’re all pouting and grumbling. What’s wrong with you?”

“How could you forgive Topper and not me?”

“I haven’t forgiven Topper, but he apologized for everything, it’s more than you have ever done.”

“I’m sorry.” He blurts out.

“Rafe. Stop.” She goes to walk away but he grabs her arm, stopping her. 

“What? You beg me to apologize and now you don’t want to hear it?”

“I didn’t want to beg you for it, I wanted you to apologize because it’s the right thing to do.”

“I know that I haven’t been a good friend to you. I’ve been so absent from our friendship. I let people get in the way of us and I self-sabotaged and pushed you away.”

“Rafe please.”

“I think that I pushed you away because I couldn’t be with you but I couldn’t be your friend.”

She holds her breath, waiting for what he says next. 

“I couldn’t be just your friend because I was in love with you.”

“And I’m stupid okay? I’m the biggest idiot in the entire world for saying the things that I said to you.” He pauses to gauge her reaction. She’s looking directly at him, her gaze not faltering.

“You were never just someone I fucked. You weren’t some girl or someone who didn’t mean anything to me. You are the girl, you mean everything to me. You always have. And I am sorry. I am so sorry that I ever said those things.”

“Why did you?”

“I was terrified. It’s an excuse I know. The way I treated you should have never happened but- I just- I was so scared to ruin our careers and take away what we had been working for since we were practically babies. The work that you put into the band and I was just being so careless with it, I could have ruined everything. I didn’t know how to deal with that and being in love with you and high all the time. I couldn’t do it.”

“You got clean right after.” 

“I knew that sabotaging us was the first step to me ruining everything else and I needed to make the sacrifice worth it so I got clean.”

“I’m a sacrifice. You sacrificed our friendship to keep the band but if you had just talked to me we could have decided together. We could have made something work.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” They hear the five-minute to curtain call announcement and Y/N sighs.

“Do you think you could ever forgive me?” He asks her, hopeful.

“I don’t know. You hurt me more than anyone ever has.” She shrugs.

“fuck, b- Y/N I’m so sorry. You have to believe me.” She nods.

“I think I do. I need time. I need to get used to the idea of letting you back into my life before I do.”

“Okay, yeah. What can I do?” He feels hopeful for the first time since he started trying to get her to talk to him. 

“Just give me space for now. I’ll let you know.” She walks past him towards Topper. That’s a good start, he thinks. 

+++

“Baby!” She yells as she gets off stage, running into Julio’s arms. His flight had been delayed so she didn’t get to see him before the show. 

His arms wrap around her waist as he lifts her off the ground, spinning her around. 

“When did you get here?” She asks him, kissing his lips before he answers. 

“Just as you started the second song.” He pulls away to answer but buries his head in her neck, kissing her. 

“Thank you for coming. I missed you so much.” She tells him, still not letting go. 

“Always.” He pecks her lips again as the rest of the band comes up behind her. 

“Hey, guys.” Julio greets them the best he can with a Y/N-sized necklace still hanging off him. 

“Hey, man!” Topper taps him on the shoulder as he passes by him. Barry mumbles a ‘hey’ and Rafe just nods, his jaw tight. 

+++

Julio had only been here for one night and already he knew everything that Rafe had told Y/N, Which is how he found himself sitting alone with the man in the green room.

“Y/N told me what you told her last night.” He really doesn’t want to have to explain to Y/N why her boyfriend is on the floor bleeding but if he throws the first punch, Rafe is only defending himself. 

“Yeah?” He looks up from his phone and at Julio.

“Look, you hurt her. A lot. To the point where she thought she had no one because of you. She cried herself to sleep every day because of how alone she felt.” Rafe’s stomach churns at his words.

“I’m going to make it up to her.” He puts his phone down next to him. 

“And you better mean it. Don’t lead her on. Be honest with her. Do not hurt her again.” 

“I won’t.” He assures him.

“Good.” He thinks the conversation is over but Julio speaks up again.

“Rafe, I know how you feel about her. You need to back off. I love her. And she loves me. I will be here until she no longer wants me. Please don’t get in the way of that.”

“I’m engaged.”

“That doesn’t change the way you look at her. Your heart isn’t in it. Respect my relationship and I will respect you.” 

“You don’t have anything to worry about. I just want my friend back.” It’s not like she would take him back anyway. Even if he wanted to.

“Okay.” Cleo and Pope walk in to save him from the awkward silence. 

“I’m going to head out.” He picks up his phone and stands up from where he was sitting on the couch.

“Nice talking to you,” Julio calls.

“Yeah, you too.” He all but runs out of the room on a mission to find Sarah.

+++

Sarah Cameron is not one to spread rumours. She’s very much the type to wait for confirmation. She blames the circumstances and constant stress she’s under juggling her brother’s stupid feelings with Y/N’s and vice versa. 

There has been way too much talk about marriage, Sofia finally arrived and all she can talk about is wedding dresses and the caterer and the first dance and Sarah is exhausted. And of course, Rafe is panicking about things he really shouldn’t be worried about like ‘Oh is Y/N getting married? Sarah, she said that she was ready.’ and Y/N herself teased that she wanted the ring and she wouldn’t say no if Julio proposed. So what is Sarah supposed to think when she hears Y/N squeal from her dressing room as she screams “Yes! Of course, I’ll marry you.” Sarah is tired. 

She should have known there wasn’t an actual proposal when it happened in the dressing room of all places. She knows Julio, he’s a romantic guy, thinking back on it, there’s no way he would have proposed like that. Again, Sarah’s tired and she’s not thinking and she needs to tell someone and the first person she sees. Barry. Bad idea. 

“Julio just proposed to Y/N and she said yes.” The information spills out of her mouth, it takes Barry a moment to process what she said but once he gets it he’s laughing. 

“Shit. That’s going to kill him.” Fuck. Rafe. She hadn’t even thought of her brother’s reaction. She wants to be the one to tell him but he’s out with his trainer. She has to make sure no one tells him before she does. 

“Topper!” She runs down the hall towards him.

“What’s up, why are you like sweating?” She waves him off.

“When does Rafe get back?”

“An hour still.”

“Shit.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Y/N just got engaged and I need to be the one to break the news to him.” 

“Holy shit. Good for her. Where is she?” Sarah shakes her head at him. 

“That’s not the point, I need you to find out where Rafe is training so I can find him.”

“He’s probably running laps outside or at a nearby park.”

“Do you have his location?” 

“No, security list.”

“Oh my god! I hate that you’re all famous sometimes.” She says through gritted teeth. 

“I need to find John B. Make sure Rafe doesn’t find out!” She says running off down the hall again. 

“Find out what?” Sofia’s voice comes from behind him. 

“Jesus, Sofia, be louder next time.”

“Sorry. What’s going on?”

“Oh, nothing. Y/N just got engaged and Sarah doesn’t want anyone to know yet.’

“Fun! Congratulations to them, that’s so exciting!” He sees her pull out her phone and walk in the direction of the busses.

“See you, Top!”

“On the bus?” He asks her. 

“Yeah.” She gives him a toothy grin. 

Shit. Topper thinks. She’s going to tell Rafe. 

+++

Kyle had just made him run way too much. Keeping up his stamina was important to perform every night. This time though Kyle really wanted to kill him. 

“You hate me, man.” He says opening up his phone. Kyle laughs. 

“You did great.” He tells him as they start their walk back to the arena. 

He has a few notifications from Instagram from friends back home sending him reels and Wheezie tagging him in stories. He swipes out of Instagram and goes on to his Twitter quickly checking to see if the lineup for the show had started already, trying to see which way they took back to the arena without being seen. 

Something catches his eye as he scrolls past it, he scrolls back up trying to find the pink icon. 

‘@KSUpdates: 💍💍💍’ He reads through the other tweets wondering what that’s all about, were they promoting something he forgot about? He keeps scrolling until he sees someone say that Y/N’s engaged. He stops where he is, Kyle looking at him questioningly. 

“You okay?” His head is spinning, his heart is racing faster than when he was working out, and he feels like throwing up. No, he’s not okay. 

“I need to go.” He starts booking it to the arena, Kyle trailing behind him. 

He has three unanswered texts from Sarah, a call from Topper, and one from Kelce by the time he makes it back to the arena. He says bye to Kyle and rushes to the bathroom. He’s going to throw up, he feels lightheaded. 

He didn’t realize how not okay he was with losing her forever right until this moment. He couldn’t face it for the longest time. He loves Sofia. He does. She has been important to him, his growth, and his life, she’s been an amazing partner. But that’s all she’s been. A friend. Because he couldn’t give her his heart. Not when Y/N was out there already walking around with it. She had never given it back. She owned it, owned him. He knew that now. With every fibre in his being, he knew that he was still in love with her. And she was marrying someone else. He was losing her. 

His breathing feels laboured. He feels the room continue spinning, he slides down the bathroom wall trying to keep the panic attack at bay. How could he be so stupid? How could it take him so long to realize that he couldn’t live without her no matter how hard he tried? It would always be her. 

He hears his phone ringing again but ignores it. He needs to get his breathing under control before he can talk to anyone. They can’t know he’s losing it. 

He needs to do something. He needs to get his shit under control and talk to Y/N. He hasn’t had a panic attack in so long. He’s not used to dealing with it. He needs to find Barry first. 

+++

She’s in one of her moods again, every time Julio leaves she gets sad and it takes her a day or two to get back into the swing of things. It’s been a week since she had asked Rafe for space. She thinks that she’ll be able to work towards forgiving him or at least putting the past behind her. After talking to Cleo, Sarah, and Julio, they had all given her the same advice. Do what she believes is the best next step for her. 

She notices Sarah hovering over Rafe like a mother hen, checking in on him, asking him if he’s okay every two seconds. She doesn’t know what happened but Topper had told her he went missing for the entire day until their show. And she’s pretty sure he showed up high. She’s scared for him. He’s been clean for so long that getting into drugs again now could shock his system. He’s not her responsibility anymore but she cares if he lives or dies. 

That same day that Rafe went missing, everyone was congratulating her for being engaged. The updates account had hinted at her being engaged too, she doesn’t know where they got that information, she not only had to tweet, she had to tell the entire team that no, she was not engaged. 

It had been a stupid misunderstanding that Sarah had apologized for a significant amount. Cleo had asked Julio how he would propose so Julio had set the scene for her and gotten down on one knee and Y/N had played along. Stupid and dumb. 

She’s reading a contract for a new magazine shoot she’s doing when Rafe comes up to her. 

“Hey.” He seems anxious. He can’t seem to stand still and his hair’s a mess.

“Hi, you good?” She asks him. 

“No.” She gives him her full attention now. Wondering what he’s about to say to her. 

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m selfish.” She doesn’t like the tone he says it in. Like he knows he’s about to tell her something he shouldn’t.

“Whatever you’re about to say don’t.” She goes back to her contract, staring at it blankly.

“When I thought you were engaged-”

“Rafe. Enough.”

“I had never felt so heartbroken in my life.” She’s shaking her head at him, trying to get him to stop.

“And I thought, I have to stop this now. I have to do whatever I can to stop it before it goes too far and I have to ruin your wedding. Because I would. Because I’m selfish.” She doesn’t know what to say to that so she says the first thing that comes to mind.

“It’s too late.”

“It doesn’t have to be.” There’s desperation in his voice, his eyes glassy.

“You’re engaged!” She yells, getting up and in his face.

“No, I love you.”

“I love Julio.”

“I love you.”

“Stop!” She turns her back to him and tries to find her breath.

“None of that changes how I feel. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry it’s taken me this long to figure myself out.” She feels him behind her, looming over her shoulder.

“Why are you telling me any of this?”

“I can’t lose you. And that’s what’s happening because I’m an idiot. But I can’t lose you and I’m going to fight for you.” She turns around to face him, taking a step back, creating distance between them.

“There’s no fighting for me. We’re done. We’ve been over for so long. For three years I only spoke to you on stage or in interviews! There’s no us.”

“Tell me you don’t love me.”

“Rafe.” Her voice is firm but he doesn’t care.

“Tell me you don’t love me and I’ll go. I’ll leave you alone and you won’t ever have to see me again.”

“Not possible. The band.” She doesn’t know why she needs to make sure the band is safe in this moment, so much has happened between them to keep it alive, it can’t be at risk now.

“Outside of that then. Tell me.” She stays quiet, shaking her head once more.

“Please.” She snaps.

“I was in love with you for years! Since I was 13 years old you have lit up my goddamn world and when you finally gave me that chance, when you started looking at me like we could be something you ripped it all away. You hurt me so much and now? Now is when you want to come back and tell me everything I’ve been hoping for for years. Now when you’re getting married and I’m in a happy relationship?” She finishes, her chest heaving anger leaving her body in droves.

“You’re not in a happy relationship.”

“Rafe.” Her tone is warning him to not continue.

“Come on!  He doesn’t understand you the way I do! Doesn’t understand the life we live, and the sacrifices we have made to be where we are. He’s not good enough for you.”

“And you are?” 

“No.” She throws her hands up, “but, I understand you. I know who you are at your core, baby.” 

“Stop.” She’s sure she’s shooting daggers at him now.

“Why?”

“You don’t get to call me that.”

“No, why are you with him?” He’s close to her again, she can feel his breath hitting her face.

“Because.”

“Because what?”

“Because I love him!” Rafe’s face falls. She exhales. “I love him.”

“No, you don’t.” She stays quiet. 

“You can’t.” He backs up a little, his head shaking, eyes sad.

“Rafe,” she says softly, stepping closer to him. She reaches out but pulls her arm away quickly.

“It’s too late.” She repeats her words from earlier.

“But I love you.” She doesn’t want to hurt him but she knows she has to put an end to this.

“I don’t love you.”

“I’m so stupid. Oh my god, how did I ever let you go? I’m an idiot th-“ she cuts him off putting a hand on his arm.

“Hey hey, stop. It’s okay. We’ll get through this.”

“How?” Tears are threatening to spill over now. His eyes are red. She doesn’t know if it’s from holding back tears or from smoking.

“By being friends.” His blue eyes pierce into hers.

“I’ll try.”

“Okay.” There are a lot of things left unsaid between them. She hugs him for the first time in years and he puts his face in the crook of her neck. She feels him crying. His tears soaking her neck.

“I love you.” She does too. Not in the way that he wants. Not anymore.

“I know.”

#kildaresplit au #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe x reader #outerbanks au #rafe obx #rafe cameron au #rafe cameron smau #rafe x you #rafe fanfiction #rafe imagine #rafe outer banks #rafe fic #outerbanks rafe

[murfeelee]

Murf's Top 50 Mods - Part 3 (2020 - 2023 Edition)

I made a Top 50 list (Pt 1 and Pt2) back in 2016, talking about mods that I've used & love. But with all the goated content that the amazing TS3 community continues to churn out, I NEEDED to update my list! This one in no way diminishes or negates the other mods I've already listed--like, I shouldn't have to sit here and explain how NRAAS continues to carry TS3 on its freaking shoulders, ok. This is just MORE mods, the Top 50 most RECENT ones I've tried out since, like, quarantine.

I am a VERY niche simmer--I love fantasy gameplay, so my fave mods are the ones that not only offer general quality of life improvements, but also add new abilities and interactive objects inspired by different cultures, time periods, or genres. So y'all already KNOW which ones have earned my top spots. They're not based on which mods are "better," just which ones I personally have been using the most.

1: Smooth Patch, LazyDuchess

I've already gushed about this mod, but oh well. Like--I use an EFFTON of CC. My Live Mode gameplay itself doesn't tend to lag so much as my game's slow to LOAD, slow to save, CAS is a nightmare, I can do my taxes waiting for the Misc Decor section to open, etc etc. But the Smooth Patch loads everything so much quicker for me! 😭

One thing is that on the EA App version (curse you, EA) the Master Controller package didn't work on my end, so I took it out, but everything else has been great!

2: Search Mod, LazyDuchess

Speaking of the Misc Decor section -- HOW LONG did we ask EA for a Search function y'all? Only to be ignored. Then the second TS4 is released, it ain't got a effing thing in it, but it's got a Search function??? 🤔 ISTG it's like the simgurus were told to take all of the TS3 community's best suggestions, and poach them for TS4 (like vampire coffins--NO I'm not over it!). WHY do modders have to do your frikkin job for you, EA?! I call EA lazy all the time cuz EA you suck, so it's the most ironic thing ever that LazyDuchess is out here KILLING IT.

My ONLY "complaint" about the Search mod is the position of the icon. I use A LOT of Collection Files, and I noticed that the Search icon actually covers the Delete button when in the Collection viewer. So I can't delete items in collections with the Search icon in the way.

But this is a MINOR nitpick--I almost never delete items, it's just something I noticed is all.

3 - 8: OCCULT MODS: EVERYTHING by @puddingface1902

Y'all already know the Enhanced Witches mod is my favorite mod ever made. But PF1902 also made cool enhancements to the Fairies, Genies, Vampires, Werewolves, and Mermaids too! My sims are usually Nraas hybrids (e.g.: Sakura is a faery, witch & plantsim; Magnus Bane is a witch & genie; etc.), so it's FANTASTIC having so many new abilities for my magical occults. 😍

9 - 11: OCCULT MODS by xantak22

Even more occult mods at MTS are for enhanced Plantsims, Ghosts, and Mummies! I was dying for more Plantsim abilities, omg, they're my 3rd fave occult after Witches & Fae.

12: Sim Control Tools by Knight

Sooooo many quality of life mods have come out! ^0^

I've been ABUSING the Teleport To Me function, to quickly get sims off of lots & where I need them to be. It also lets sims unlock more Social/Romantic interactions. (Now all we need is a way to interact with sims from EA's useless thumbnails.)

13 - 18: @anitmb's mods

There are SOOOO many--most I've yet to even try. But so far newer ones I've been using are the Deck of Cards (FINALLY something other than EA's bulky AF poker table!), Farm Mod (look at all these CHICKENS!), and Hunting mod so my 8000 archer sims can actually hunt! (Ofc I've also used the Woodcutter and Anvil mods in my older gameplay posts, too.) And @mspoodle1's edit of the Cup of Tea mod is so pretty.

19: @mspoodle1's Poker table

Another excellent cards mod is this medieval style poker table I use a lot now, too.

20: @omedapixel's Wildflowers DR

I like EA's default wildflowers from SSNS, but Omeda's are just sooooo much nicer. (I haven't gotten around to trying out their Harvestable Plant DR yet.)

21: Swordfighting mod by CyrusBanefort

En garde! This mod is so freaking epic!

One thing I've noticed is that the game lags while it waits for the mod to boot up (a message has to first pop up saying it's running when you first launch your saves). But other than that this mod is excellent.

22 - 24: Yoga rugs

I've long been using the yoga rugs by Kitabalibar and the edited one from @mspoodle1. But now there's the newest one by @twinsimming, with brand new animations & features. The more the merrier I say, LOL. What's especially neat is the kids wobbling around as they try to do yoga! :3

25 - 30: TheSweetSimmer's mods--so cute! :3

Omg so frikkin many, I can't even catch up! The interactions are so freaking precious, like from the More Toddler Interactions (cuddle, look at, etc) & Biggest Little Mod (hug legs), I've never had so much fun playing with kids! <3 And I LOVE that they can Catch Butterflies and Pick Flowers--you'd think plantsim children would be able to do this by default, EA! Honestly, just grab everything by TSS, your kid sims will thank you!

31 - 33: @spheresims Medieval/Nature/Tribal mods

Y'all know I'm crazy about the Functional Fireplaces mod (the cauldrons, baby! 😈), but the One with Nature and Wildlife Hunting mods are great too, perfectly complimenting the off-the-grid realness.

34: @olomayasims/Cmomoney Smoking Mod Overhaul

The original smoking mod was on my first Top 50 list, so it's awesome seeing it get new upgrades, interactions & animations.

I've never smoked IRL, but sooooo many of my sims just puff-puff away; I'm such an enabler. U_U Now all we need is cigars and pipes!

35 - 38: Callia-Evergreen/Camkitty's CAS CC for animal hybrids at MTS

Not a "mod" per se, but whatever--my list my rules! I love ALL of their CC, but I get SO MUCH use out of animal-themed CC like the digitigrade sliders, wolf feet, lizard tails, and fae wings. Do check them out if you like to play with horror and monster-sims!

39: @greenplumbboblover's Sheep

EASILY one of the most incredible mods I've ever seen. Like....HOW? (Once @omedapixel's Goats are done I'm gonna start screaming someone do llamas pleeeeeaaaaase!!!)

40: Arsil's musical instruments mod

I used the sax most recently in my IWTV gameplay, and it was excellent, perfect for the NOLA vibes! However, although I use the flute A LOT more (for my Untamed gameplay--it's been such a GODSEND!), I really wish the hands were positioned better, preferably using the poses from Chisims' flute poseset. (But I don't eff with poses/animations, otherwise I'd do it myself. U_U) Ah well, it's still one of my fave mods though.

41 - 42: Flower Arranging mod by zoe22 + @mspoodle1's Florist Collection

Guys, I've been wanting this mod since FOREVER! ^0^ (I swear, the best thing about TS4 is all the 4t3 conversions, LMAO!) I just wish Teens could Dabble and use it, too--all they can do is stock the table.

43: Just Sit/Nap Anywhere by FloTheory

Sometimes you just want sims to fall asleep anywhere, DANG, EA!

44: @sweetdevil-sims' Toddler Food DR

Cuz EA's food is UUUUUUUUGLY~! I kept forgetting to install it, only to be rudely reminded every time I had to look at my toddler sims eating MUD.

45 - 46: @mspoodle1's mail pen quill DR and @omedapixel's pencil quill DR

I looooove quill pens IRL (ballpoint pens, not the fountain pens--I'm way too messy), so having mods that let my sims use them too is 👌

47: Fireflies Enhanced! by Canibal_MLO

I love anything that enhances the wildlife and collectibles/harvestables to be more dynamic and interactive. And I was JUST about to do a firefly catching scene for my IWTV insp. gameplay, so this came right on time! The falling leaves effect is delightful, but I kinda wish it was falling flower petals instead, cuz ofc I do. 🌸

48: Unicorn Aurora DR by Canibal_MLO

GORGEOUS. This mod replaces the unicorn mist with northern lights, like.... I love the genius ideas simmers have.

49: Custom Plumbbob Color tool by CrossTheMersey

What a neat idea! Although the default Maxis colors are ingrained in my psyche, with the iconic green plumbbob, as soon as I saw this mod I knew I wanted to at least try something different and play around with it.

50: @aa6x7's Teru Teru Bozu + other edits [Honorable Mention]

I rave about Cmomoney's Time/Weather Mod all the time, I use it constantly. AA6x7's Teru Teru Bozu (Japanese "Sunshine Monk" charms) is kinda like a simpler version of it, as it just resets bad weather back to Sunny. But it's such a cute idea and perfect for my gameplay. Plus, AA6x7 makes all kinds of neat edits/mods to EA's bulky AF meshes, so if you haven't checked them out already, DO!

And that's all the mods I've managed to try out recently!

I don't have anywhere near the kind of free time that I used to, so my simming has been put on the backburner and I've missed all kinds of cool and exciting releases. But trust: I am taking note, so that I know what to try once I have time.

All my deepest & sincerest gratitude & love to the entire sims community, for keeping The Sims 3 going--this year was the 14th anniversary! Here's to 14 more! 🥳 Happy Simming!

#simblr #sims 3 mods #sims 3 content list #the sims 3 #sims 3 medieval #sims 3 fantasy #sims 3 supernatural #EA you suck

[daemon-in-my-head]

Gortash is hot, but the thing that actually makes me horny about this train wreck of a man is that he's a human villain.

Brother didn't wake up and choose corruption (looking at you, pale elf), my guy was genuinely incredibly hurt, and that hurt, and the fact that nobody ever came to help him led him down a path of war crimes and even more torment. He didn't start out vile. Even he was just a kid once. Before he was made to be what he is now.

Most people aren't born evil. They're made. By other people. By their environment. By the shitshow that life can be. I like villains that are the guys that weren't saved in time, because it's real. I'm pretty sure to some degree, everyone can understand why Gortash, Ketheric, Orin or even Durge did what they did. You can sympathise with their motives and their pain, maybe even emphasise. They blur the line between utterly good and utterly evil. And I like that. Because life is not black or white despite what some may claim, neither is morality or what one does.

It doesn't excuse what they did. Vivisections and human experiments are never appropriate, but it makes them more interesting. Because what if Gortash had been saved in time like your beloved companions? What if any of your villains had been saved in time? Where would they be now? What if someone had recognised their hurt or harmful environs and saved them just in time?

Ultimately, they're all just hurting, one way or another. But like an injured, scared animal, they lash out rather than back up. And I mean, their original primary motivation isn't even evil. It's as human as can be. Everyone can understand wanting to be loved and wanting their loved ones around them. Wanting to be accepted for who they are. It's just that these people, despite their constant struggle, never got rewarded with what they so rightfully desired and what they would've deserved. But even so, the original desire, their original sin, was one everyone could understand.

Anyway, just thoughts.

Ah hm yes. My posting is giving even me whiplash at times.

Edit cuz reasons: Yes I mean Astarion. Yes he is evil. He was a corrupt magistrate and will straight up admit to embezzlement even before Cazador happened. Even in the sanitised released version, don't even get me started about his EA personality. Shit can happen to evil people too. And even evil people may change their ways. But that guy still chose to abuse the power he had even before he became entangled with Cazador. And I never once said smth about redeeming Gortash. I'm literally just explaining how his reasons are understandable.

#“i should have ended him in the womb” #gods i hate this fictional woman #bg3 #bg3 spoilers #bg3 gortash #enver gortash #bg3 durge #lord gortash #durge #dark urge #orin the red #ketheric thorm

[scalingsvt8thusiast]

Skin-Deep Chapter 1

summary: The one where you fall for Seungcheol amongst all the protests and insecurities. The one where you don't know that he's fallen for you too.

A/N: my very first fic ever. not proofread, except by my obsessive editing. this is just chapter 1, so it's going to be a series :D . please bear with me, I have the entire draft done already and depending on the reception I may release the other chapters. also you can probably tell from my grammar where I'm from D: .

All you could think about was the music. So loud that you could barely hear your own thoughts, so loud that it made this random individual standing too close to you think that it was alright to speak into your ear. You could literally feel their breath down your ear canal and their spit on your neck. The lack of distance between your bodies was making it hard to breath and you felt too warm to be comfortable. 

You did not ask for this conversation, this person just thought you looked “lonely". Sure, standing in the corner next to the lamp and a vase made you look odd, but you were very content standing in the corner unnoticed, very content scrolling through Pinterest, very content left on your own. 

You watched as their mouth moved, hearing nothing but “finance” and “investment”. On second thought, maybe you were thankful for the loud pounding in your ear, not wanting to subject yourself to this conversation even in a library. Occasionally throwing in a smile or nod when they looked expectant of a reaction, you tried your best to discreetly text Mingyu to come and save you. 

Just as you were about to hit send on a poorly written text message, you felt an arm snake around your waist. Your eyes snapped up and a series of unsavoury words about to leave your mou-oh?

“There you are, princess,” that familiar drawl. Your turn and your eyes met a pair of familiar brown ones, your lips stretched into a smile. Not Mingyu, but this was much better.

That random individual immediately pulled back, it helped that Seungcheol had a larger build so he basically pushed the person away. You relaxed into his grip, relishing the feel of his arm around your waist. It felt like the music was drowned out in the time you looked into his eyes. 

“Sorry, she’s taken.” Seungcheol had managed to pry his eyes away from yours to give the unwanted individual a hard stare. They seemed to get the hint and muttered an apology before slinking off, probably to bother another poor unsuspecting party goer. 

You turn your body so you were facing Seungcheol, both his arms now around you and your hands rest on his hard chest. His eyes sliding back to meet yours, a confident smile decorating his face. The two of you could stand there forever if it weren’t for the loud music and rowdy party people. Someone elbowed you causing you to stumble further into this chest. 

“Woah there princess, drunk already?” He leaned towards you, “knew u were a lightweight but come on.”

The distance between the two of you not leaving any room for Jesus. You could feel the butterflies in your stomach going feral and your heart rate speeding up. His eyes pulling you in further, his smile making your knees weak. Maybe you did need to get a health checkup. 

“Y/N?” Both of you jolted out of your trance, realising the position you were in, you quickly pushed yourself away from him. His arms left your waist and all you could hear was the loud music again. 

“Y/N? Y/N!” Mingyu pushed himself through the crowd, “there you are, my god.”

Mingyu ushered the two of you towards another part of his house, the music wasn’t as loud here as it was in the previous room. There were lesser people and it was much easier to have an actual conversation here. 

“Gyu, I thought you said this was going to be a small party,” you say with your arms crossed.

Had you known that it was going to be such a big party, you would have rejected Mingyu’s invite immediately. You weren’t fond of large parties, preferring to spend your nights rolling around in bed with a good book and a nice cup of tea. When you did attend parties, you were almost always standing in a quieter part of the party scrolling through your phone and you only attended because of Mingyu’s constant pleading, he never liked it when you stayed at home for too long. 

“Yea, that’s what I thought,” he said, looking exasperated, “I told Soonyoung and next thing you know half the uni’s at my house. His fault really.”

The three of you turn to stare at Soonyoung who was currently doing a keg stand with Seokmin and Seungkwan at his sides shouting words of encouragement. You and Mingyu rolled your eyes while Seungcheol chuckled. 

Seungcheol gave you a pat on the arm before walking off to join Jeonghan and Joshua on the sofa. Watching his retreating figure, you hated to admit that you already missed his presence.

Once Seungcheol was out of earshot, Mingyu whacked you on the arm. “What’s up with the two of you?”

“Okay, ow.” You say while rubbing your arm, sometimes you wonder if he thinks everybody is as muscle-y as he is. “Nothing’s going on, he just saved me from some finance-bro.” 

Mingyu made a face, he quickly excused himself when he noticed Soonyoung getting off the keg looking like he was about to throw up in a nearby vase. Luckily Mingyu managed to catch him in time to redirect him towards an empty bucket. Seokmin and Seungkwan, who you were assuming were equally as drunk, booed at Soonyoung’s bent over figure as he slumped into the bucket. Mingyu turned to look at you with a look of pure disgust on his face. 

You grinned at him, not making any move to help. This was actually surprising, normally at this time of the night Mingyu would be the keg stand-er, everybody else would be drunk off their faces and you would probably be in Mingyu’s position right now. The only reason Mingyu was very sober, too sober he would argue, was because he had originally planned a movie night with your small friend group before it was clearly ruined by Soonyoung.

“And this is why we don’t tell Soonyoung anything in advance,” you muttered under your breath. 

Honestly you, and probably Mingyu, didn’t know 90% of the people in the house. You shuddered to think what was happening in the upstairs bedrooms. The last time Mingyu threw a party this big was on his birthday and you had stayed back to help his house staff clean. Whilst going through the rooms, you found that each and every bedroom was occupied by a couple or multiple couples doing things that you wished you had not seen. You then spent a month after that regularly attending Sunday masses, trying to rid your brain of the unsavoury images. You weren’t even religious!

You found yourself an empty spot on the sofa and decided that was where you would stay for the rest of the night. Pulling out your phone, you were just about to resume your very interesting read on dating sims and it’s effects on one’s love life when you feel a dip on the sofa and someone settled next to you. 

No doubt, it was another respectful individual trying to add you into their long list of women that they’ve hit on throughout the night. Maybe you’d be in this person’s top 10 if you were lucky. Once you’ve finally motivated yourself enough to greet the person, you planted a tight smile on your face and lifted your head. You were surprised to come face to face with your knight in shining armour. 

“Don’t look at me like that, princess, you forgot to thank me for saving you back there.” He tilted his head in the direction of the room you just came from, his arm resting on the back of the couch behind you.  

“I had it under control, my good sir,” your smile becoming more genuine, happy that you were finally in a softer environment where you could truly appreciate his voice.

“Didn’t look like it, milady,” he quipped with a playful gleam in his eyes, leaning closer to you. “You looked like you were 5 seconds away from investing in some poorly constructed pyramid scheme.”

“Was that what he was talking about? Honestly the music was so loud, all I could really feel was his spit.” you stick your tongue out, shuddering. 

Seungcheol chuckled, that deep baritone chuckle that would have millions of girls, including you, swooning. In fact right now some girls were throwing you dirty looks.

“Why are you here anyway? You were pretty quick to abandon me for Hannie and Josh.” 

“Aw come on princess, didn’t want your bodyguard over there t’have any reason to punch me.” Seungcheol gestured to Mingyu who patting Soonyoung on the back while Seungkwan and Seokmin danced around them. You were about to tease Seungcheol further when you felt a shadow loom over the two of you. 

“Cheollie baby, you promised me a dance!” You swore it was the highest, whiniest, squeakiest voice you had ever heard come out of a person. Some girls you didn’t recognise had surrounded Seungcheol and were currently giving him fuck-me eyes and pulling on his free arm. They purposefully pushed between the two of you, blocking your view of him. 

It was amusing how panicked Seungcheol looked. He eyed you, silently begging for help as the tugs got stronger and more violent each time. Some girls had, for the lack of a better word, started molesting his arms and chest. 

“Don’t let me keep you, Cheollie baby~” You say with a pitchier tone and the brightest smile you can manage. You give him a slow wave as you watch him be yanked off the couch by the giggling banshees.

Turning your attention back to your phone, you hear one of them say, “Why do you hang out with her Cheollie? She has a job? She’s like poor!” 

You weren’t sure if Seungcheol heard it. He probably wouldn’t care anyway. 

Now, back to datings sims and your love life.  

A/N 2: I always welcome constructive criticism. Send me something if you think I need to improve somewhere

#seungcheol x reader #scoups x reader #seungcheol fic #scoups fic #seungcheol fluff #choi seungcheol #scoups #svt fanfic #seventeen seungcheol #svt x reader #svt fluff #seventeen #svt #mingyu #svt fic

[precious-little-scoundrel]

Trash Magic

Big Daddy Trailer Park Cop AU One Shot

Summary: it’s 2008 and it’s the pits of recession, not that the suburbs of El Paso would notice, things have been rather shit among the rows and rows of trailers for some time now. With your dad locked up for being a little too ‘entrepreneurial’, it seems your only ally in these tough times is the town‘s scary old softy, Officer Presley, and the more than professional interest he takes in your speeding and footwear. 

Era: modern but with that dumbass tumblr dusty Americana feel to it I hope?

Kudos: so many to @eliseinmemphis who was my plot guru, kept this thing alive and gave so many lines and sentences used herein.

Word count: 15k and I didn’t edit this sorry for misspells, etc

18+ and may be thematically disturbing to some please read cautions, proceed at your own risk!! More specifics below the cut

HAPPY NEW YEAR MY DARLINGS!

Specific warnings: sexual content, drug use, stripping, casual prostitution, age gap, reader isn’t a minor for such activities but only eighteen?? which is not touted as a good thing but it’s in here?? if that’s a hard no then be warned. graphic descriptions of kinda gross blowjobs and very gross blowjobs, spanking, officer Presley does take too many pills for his pain ok? driving under the influence, minors drinking, trailer trash lifestyle in general, such as I personally have had experience with, it’s rough out there folks but there’s always the good ones trying their best. Sorry I really threw Joe E under the bus. I’m not really sorry but I’m sorry you have to read about him in here. Please let me know what warnings I missed if I did. Again, could be thematically disturbing due to age, solicitation, law officers, drug use, humans not being tidy little robots.

When you were three years old you recall the smell of plastic heating in the sun, the hot smell of fresh cut grass and the cold splatter of hose water on your skin. A little paradise it seemed, that tiny kitty pool and your mama waving the hose over you with one hand, her cigarette dangling between the fingers of her other, bright warm sun and yellowing grass stretched out in large swathes between the little white shacks stacked row upon tidy row. Always the same and ready to guide you home after each little wander into the thicket behind the clearing.

That was life in the Shady Oaks trailer park. There really was only one mature oak tree and it was a live oak and the sunshine beamed right through its little leaves all seasons of the year.

By five you had a sizable jar of grasshoppers collected and had become too scared of their hoards and awful beady eyes to ever release them, fearful they would swarm you the minute you undid the lid of the mason jar and gave them freedom. You had let one out and watched it hop across the torn Hexagons of the linoleum floor before it jumped in an acrobatic feat and landed in the mac & cheese your mom was making. You never know what she did with those jars, but you were half relieved, half heartbroken at the fact they were no longer your responsibility.

By eight you knew you lived in a trailer park and spending your time collecting ants and moths for the new set of grasshoppers to eat was a peculiar and uncool pastime. As were muddy knees and torn t-shirts on a girl approaching her teenage years. But mama hadn’t been able to take the heat and the rows upon rows of mildewing trailers anymore and daddy was too busy with his “entrepreneurship” to dress you right.

By twelve you had learned that some nights daddy came home, and some nights he didn’t and you couldn’t be sure which you preferred. His drunken state was unpredictable and confusing even though he was not abusive, but his absence left you counting quarters and wondering how long your Fig Newtons would last if he stayed gone longer than a week again.

By fifteen the Dollar Store and its fluorescent bulbs leached the vitality out of you with each long day shift, school was an afterthought, and your days smelled of plastic bags and detergent. You brought that smell home to your musty trailer, seeped into the sweaty fabric of your tank top. The only thing that stayed consistent whether your daddy was home or not was the religious watching of the NASCAR races. Reruns and live, it didn’t matter, where many girls escaped into Disney or Reality TV, you did your dreaming while sitting in the ratty drivers seat of daddy’s Ford, making the engine thrum.

By seventeen, your daddy was gone for months at a time. Sometimes he’d leave the Ford and take off on the road with Benny and Gregg in Benny’s motorhome from a few rows down. Greg had the pale blue trailer with the blinds that were always smashed in the one window. He always left his damn lights on, even when he was gone and they’d glow yellow and demented between the brittle plastic. Some nights when you walked back home from town, maybe a little more plastered than you’d like to admit, you’d keep Gregg’s trailer and his silly window as a landmark to turn left in the maze of trailers.

One night the bulb burnt out. One by one the rest of them did too. The fellas, they’d all been gone so long. Next week the electricity got turned off to yours. The bill hadn’t been paid. Dollar Store wages kept peanut butter and miracle bread in your cabinets and bought you cheap tequila from Terry who lived five trailers down and didn’t care about ID’s so long as there was cash on the counter. What the wages didn’t pay for was electricity or gas money or a new car that could actually accelerate fast enough to give you that thrill you craved.

Despite your lousy education and demotivated upbringing, you had some spark of diligence and ambition residing inside you, it was stoked to a decent blaze by the awful, humid and stale air of the trailer without its swamp coolers humming at night. Not even the fridge stayed cool longer than forty eight hours and you ended up at the seven eleven eating roller dogs.

You weren’t looking for job opportunities while licking corn dog grease off your thumbs but opportunity came to you anyway. As you nibbled at the soggy fried dog and licked at the rancid oil while leaning against the auto supply shelf, you’d have to be some sorta dumb to not know that Carl was hanging around the same aisle for something besides windshield washer fluid.

Carl was a native to the outskirts of El Paso just like you, and he was a married man, married to Clarissa in fact. Clarissa who’s plastic miniature flamingo’s gracing each edge of her weedy gravel drive had a younger you thinking she was the height of trailer park sophistication. That was before Officer Presley, who lived in a spacious double wide down by Gregg’s trailer and its burnt out bulbs, got himself a Tiger figurine made outta real concrete and painted pretty as anything, its blazing feline eyes not missing a speck of paint, unlike the flamingo’s slashed ones. Officer Presley only had the one and it was assumed he was saving up for another, and he placed it by the little porch he built off his trailer door, the proximity to the structure giving it a noble sorta air that sitting statues out by the street didn’t manage.

“If you keep watchin’ me like that I’ll have to start chargin’.” you told Carl and his leering face, and took another bite, munching with the carefree manners of someone actually hungry.

“Can’t do that here.” he wheezed a laugh, then thumbed over his shoulder at the bright lights of the trucker club blazing in the dark sky through the dirty glass doors of the gas station. “But over there it’s legal.”

“You so horny you’d pay to watch a girl eat a corndog?” you were dubious, wondering just how little Miss Clarissa put out if he’d waste money on this, it wasn’t like she was busy repainting her Flamingo’s peeling eyes or nothin’.

“I’d pay for a drink for ya.” Carl offered, fidgety hands wedged in his fraying front pockets. “And you can eat another dog. You like hot dogs? They’ve got ‘em over there.”

“Nah, I need cash.” you declined, aware that you could barter for drinks and end up evicted or else make sacrifices regarding the booze and keep your tin roof over your head.

“Cash?” he repeated like a dumb parrot.

“Yeah, stupid.” you flailed your hands a little in annoyance, fully certain everyone in this run down rural suburb knew you were as broke as you are alcoholic at seventeen.

“Ok, then I’ll pay for your hot dog,” he negotiated with an oil stained finger scratching at the sore on the corner of his mouth, “And you can eat it so long as you do it how I tell ya.”

You sighed and ran your chipping nails along the plastic jugs of car oil. “So long as ya let me eat it.” you stipulate, “And you gotta pay for the show.”

“I ain’t made of money, girl!” Carl protested, “I’m buyin’ dinner, you should be thankin’ me.”

“You were plannin’ on buyin’ me a drink.” you pointed out, “Where’s that money gone?”

“Jeeze ok, ok,” Carl sighed, “I’ll pay you same as a wild Turkey would cost.”

“And a dog?”

“Yeah.”

“With chili on it?”

“Oh c’mon now-“

“-It’ll make for good slurpin.” you pointed out sagaciously

Carl groaned in annoyance and appreciation for the mental image. “Ok, a chili dog and the cost of a shot. No funny shit with the tab and you eat it how I say.”

“Does the club have air conditioning?” You asked your last stipulation.

“Course it does, it would be hot as fuck without.”

Your trailer was hot as fuck and anytime spent loitering elsewhere was greatly desired. “Ok then.” you agreed with a shrug.

By the time you’d crossed the parking lot, with Carl’s guiding hand on your lower back, you were irritable from the heat and exhaust fumes. Inside was cool and almost as dark as the parking lot except for the wild, multi-colored lights swirling around the place, highlighting the girls humping the stage floor in the middle of the establishment. One more underage addition wasn’t remotely as remarkable as the fella in the corner trying to take a bite outta a lap dancer’s boob. He got smacked on the cheek for it and nothin’ more, got his full dance anyway and as you watched her after while sitting up on the bar stool, you noticed her negotiate something similar to what you’d just done. She stayed in his lap after her dance was done and after some gesticulating and her unimpressed sighs, some agreement was reached and you watched them get up and walk to the back of the club, through the backdoor that you knew led to nothing more than miles and miles of desert.

Five minutes later a similar transaction occurred between a trucker and a pole girl. They went out back, too. Ten minutes later the first couple came back in. She went to the stage and he went out the front door Carl had brought you in by.

By that point you were slowly inserting a hot dog onto your pink tongue and swallowing a bite every three minutes or more - at least, that’s what it felt like. Carl’s directions were so slow and infuriatingly erratic that you found yourself grateful for the fact you’d already eaten a bit at the gas station, otherwise this would’ve been the cruelest tease to your belly that hadn’t had lunch and only Raisin Bran for breakfast. You chose to ignore the way his hand moved in the shadow of the bar, wiping at his jeans too many times to be passed off as sweaty palms.

A nearly fully dressed girl in cut offs eating a chili dog was hardly the most sensational thing to be watched in this seedy joint, but it was the most peculiar and no sooner had you finished the dog after a laborious thirty minutes, collected the extra drink cash and prepared to go home after declining Carl’s offer of a ride before you found yourself propositioned for the same ordeal. This big fella actually offered a drink with it and much to Carl’s betrayed horror you agreed. Carl ended up leaving, going home to Clarissa, feeling too cuckolded to continue watching someone else watch you eat meat in a casing.

In between sipping Hard Mike’s lemonade you chatted with the fella and spilled pinto beans on your bare legs from the excess. Even the bartender had stopped being annoyed, he even got a bit invested in your gig, retracting the offered napkins for the spill when another guy, a farm hand from the pecan grove down the interstate, asked to lick it off.

You charged seventeen bucks for that spit bath and felt funny as the saliva dried in the chilled bar room air. The bartender asked you if you lived in El Paso. Hesitating to give yourself away or open yourself up to a driveby, you merely agreed that you lived nearby, he didn’t need to know you lived in the Spark City suburb and walked to this tuck station grill to save fuel.

Marty, he said his name was, and Marty was pleased you lived close. In that case he asked if you’d wanna work there. You knew at the time he wasn’t offering you to bartend, your age prohibitive even in so lax an establishment. Your eyes flicked over to the long gal with her sallow skin and stringy red hair loling around the stripper pole in the glow of a green spotlight. It had to be 3:00 am by then.

“Does everybody do extra?” You asked him, plainly referencing the deals that took folks out back into the sagebrush and the backside of the club.

“You do as much as you wanna get paid for.” he admitted. “Plenty just strip.”

Just, he had said. Just strip.

Just stripping was a gross understatement for the rigorous and demoralizing ordeal of flinging your practically naked body around on stage for gaping older men to ogle each night. But it took up hours of your time not paid by the dollar store wages, and you could snooze from five am to eight when your shift began again in respectable retail. You earned a decent amount, even after having to pay Marty and the doormen a portion and even turning down a lap dance or two. The chili dog schtick kept its novelty for three nights and then you were driven to grinding against the pold like all the others, wondering if they’d all hoped to not end this way, same as you.

After a few weeks of this your piggy bank was less empty than it had been in months, hidden under the sink of your trailer behind the Comet and pulled out only to stuff in bills or else retrieve bread money, one Sunday you counted enough to pay your lease for the trailer slip. What was left would make a tiny little down payment for the electricity bill.

Or gas money for at least fifty miles or more in your gas guzzler. You weighed the bills in your hands and mournfully inspected your bruised knees. It was your off day, you contemplated going to the club in the evening as it didn’t respect the Lord’s day like the dollar store, but until then you had hours of a perfectly cloudless day to burn. Suddenly your trailer felt unbearable in its stuffy crampedness.

You tore outta your door and cranked up your daddy’s old Ford and with relief found it started with only a few tries. You tore down the road too, seeking the interstate after using that cash to top her tank off. For the first time in ages a full smile had begun to split your face. You went east, passing the last remnant of civilization that you called home and comprised El Paso’s dusty satellite cling ons. Then it was open range, nothing just mesas and tumbleweed, no one else could brag of such flat country or so wide a sky.

You floored it, the speed limit a decent 80 on its own, you went up to 120, fast as you dared push the transmission without fear of being stranded in the desert. Billboards warned of “last chance for gas, Van Horn 200 miles” followed by a possibly related: “God is coming, have you repented?”

All flew by in a unheeded blur as you cranked up the stereo and let the wind whip your hair. You covered a patrol car in a cloud of dust and saw his lights flash at you in the rearview. No chase commenced. When you leisurely drove back you noticed it was highway patrol, the sun was setting and he flashed his brights at you. You flicked them back.

“Hey officer Presley.” you murmured amused at him turning a blind eye to the speeding. Back when you had more money and made a regular habit of this amateur racing, you noticed the same benevolent light flicker and never a siren broke the still of the desert. “You ole softy.” you giggled at the thought of the middle aged officer being generous for you and only you, and wondered if he’d heard about what had become of you yet. Seems like most of the trailer park had. Favorite topic these days, right up there with when or if your daddy was ever gonna come home. Had the wives hating you during the day for the suspicion of their men wanking over you at night.

“Maybe if you could spare a single food stamp or somethin’ to help a gal in need I’d not be strippin’!” You had hollered at Ms Clarissa for all to hear and you stood by it. Buncha lousy, miserable hypocrites who did far worse behind their canvas doors.

You do go to the club that night.

You stripped down to your panties and bra and made enough to buy ice and a trip to the dentist. You packed the ice in the dead refrigerator and pampered yourself with some milk and a carton of ice cream for the filled tooth.

Next day you filled up your gas tank again and blazed a path through town, headed to the wide open and dreaming of busting your way into the male ranks of nascar drivers. You were deep into a daydream and committing a little self pity about how you hadn't been able to afford cable and were missing all the races when a siren’s blare broke your fantasy and the flicker of red lights against a pale blue sky filled your rearview. Begrudgingly you pulled to the shoulder as you cranked down your window, fiddling with the radio knobs till you could actually hear your crime when your peruser sauntered up.

“Well, well officer Presley, finally got persnickety about laws, have ya?” you observed to yourself with a grin as you watched the handsome man swagger towards you along the white line in your side mirror, tugging at his pants as he neared, trying to shimmy the article of clothing a little higher but is impeded by his belt, stopped by his sizable belly, his holster and buckle sitting under the bulge of it.

Your mouth watered. It had been close to a year since you’d seen him up close, not since last time he pulled you over, though you always took note when he was lounging outside his trailer in a lawn chair with his dog or stripped down and working under his hood. He was always built, intimidating to all the stupid rascals he kept in line along the border, but now he had become outright fat and his khaki shirt pulled apart between each button. Yet when he came up to your window, that little boy's grin was still gracing one of the most exquisite faces known to man, and his voice was tender and playful when he greeted you, just as you once recalled. You could see his sweaty hair, matted on his chest and belly between the gaps, his underarms have massive pit stains, doubly apparent thanks to the light color of his police uniform.

Your smile had something of the she-wolf in it as you greeted him, sniffing the air in hopes of catching a whiff as he leaned on your window frame, nearly crowding you from outside. “Hey Miss Lead Foot Louie,” he greeted, “you know why ya been pulled over?”

“Haven't got a clue, officer.” You stated the truth and enjoyed the way his title rolled off your tongue in a bantering way. It was easy.

Officer, officer. Somebody important and authoritative. No sir, yes sir, Officer.

His left eyebrow quirked and you wondered what he looked like at twenty five, how devastating that expression would have been before his wound and his meds and the water retention. Whatever power it may have once held, it holds nothing to that slightly bemused, slightly cynical world weariness that shows in his every expression now, that had a twitch of an eyebrow making you feel a fool in the most delicious way. “You’re goin’ seventy in a forty five, Miss.” his tone was patient even as his face suggested he’d like to tan your hide for being so reckless. “Reckless endangerment of others, and yourself,” he quoted sternly, “it ain’t no small matter and I don’t countenance it on my highway.”

Gosh, you just loved it when he laid claim to government property like highways and interstates. It helped you smile meekly at him and nod.

“Sorry officer, I got lax.” You purred, batting your eyes and you could see the heavy flap of their coal coated weight in your periphery. “I’ve seen you lettin’ me fly by on the interstate. I guess I thought…”

He leaned further into her car window, shirt gaping helpfully at his neck and allowing you a glimpse of sweaty hair, little droplets shining like rhinestone studs in the coarse curls. You leaned towards him, nipples hardening beneath your t-shirt bra as your mind started to the taste of salt. “You’re in town, miss.” he pointed out with grave disappointment for your lack of behavioral modulation, “S’one thing on the open plain, it’s another when you’re endangerin’ your fellow citizens, flyin’ through intersections, speedin’ up and threadin’ traffic when you’ve got a visible yield sign. Right there! Ain’t responsible. And I won’t countenance it.”

“Sorry officer.” you pleaded, lingering on his rank with all the sultry appreciation of a girl who lacks authority figures in her life. It made his palm itch.

He sighed and gave you a small smile, puffy, marshmallow lips set under a dark five o’clock shadow and it wasn’t even noon. “Now, how many times do I gotta pull ya over ‘fore ya start listenin’ to me?“ he asked with patient expectancy and you swallowed hard, actually feeling a small bit of guilt.

“Well,” you drew it out, biting your lip before tossing your head and beaming at him, “maybe just one last time. Like always.”

He tsked at you in reprimand but his eyes lit up with enjoyment, and that was worth whatever fine he might slap you with. It really wasn’t, not with how broke you were but gosh, you loved breaking the ice on him, reeling him in for another verbal tussle. One day you hoped those expressive hands would accidently smack you mid-wave when he was explaining something or other. You lived in hope of that day.

You watched as he straightened briefly and reviewed your vehicle, thumbing at the peeling paint on the hood near his thumb and swished at the sand on your tags. You held your breath, hoping the dust would disguise their expiration. Officer Presley just grunted and surveyed your lemoning old truck with the face of a man who appreciates nice things and doesn't see any nice things in sight. The face of a man whose patrol car was a Ford Mustang.

“You like speed.” he observed, still glancing at your tires with lip curling disdain. You wanted him to look at you like that but his face always softened when he turned back to you. It did this time as well.

“Yeah.” you breathed.

“You got a shit truck for speed, terrible drag, shit tread on your tires, bet it’s a gas guzzler, too.”

“Well yeah, officer,” you rolled your eyes at his survey, “but it’s not like I can afford much else right now so -I do this for fun. Fun’s not illegal in America yet, is it?”

He looked at you gravely then and his eyes turned sad. “Yeah I heard about the strippin’. You watch yourself now, be careful and make sure you don’t engage in no extra-curric-u-lars.” he advised sternly, peering over his tinted sunglasses at you while saying the big word, over pronouncing it with authoritative gravitas, “I’ve told Marty that means no bar tendin’ when you’re underage. And I’m tellin’ you now, that goes for solictin’, too. You understand me? Nice lil girl like you could get in a heap of trouble real fast. And I won’t countenance it.”

The rest of you perked up at the heavy handed advice, feeling smothered and also cherished that someone would give a shit, even if they were just defending laws n’ government regulations. Thinking of them as Officer Presley’s laws, as his property you were twerking on somehow ennobled your calling, made you feel like giving it a try to be good and not disappoint him. You felt grateful he hadn't chewed you out for the stripping like half the neighborhood, you’d expected some disgust.

When he finally looked at you with disdain, and you were determined that he would, it would be for something less unchangeable, a little less broke, a little more sexy.

“Yes sir, I got ya.” you acknowledged with a nervous laugh to hide your discomfort with the way he kept staring at you, reading you, it felt.

He kept at it for a few moments, chomping on that gum stick in his mouth, dexterous pink tongue lolling the stuff from one row of molars to the others and back. Most fascinating ping-pong match you’d ever seen and while he did his soul-reading, you watched his mouth.

As his jaw worked overtime, he narrowed his eyes at you, so blue they looked violet behind the tint of his lenses. “A’ight.” he decided at last and suddenly your window was bereft of his congenial bulk, you heard the rap of his knuckles on your truck roof.

“You stay outta trouble now, Missy.” he let you off with only a warning, two sharp knocks on the metal and then, “I’ll be seein’ ya.”

You watched the side mirror with investment as he meandered away, futilly hiking up his holster again as he went before he entered his squad car. He flashed his lights at you as you stayed gawking, you fumbled with the ignition and peeled out off the shoulder, moderating your acceleration upon afterthought. You’d promised to be good.

But nights at the Trucker Bar didn’t pay to be good. You had a laundry list of things you wanted and a hefty list of needs alongside it. You tried picking up a shift at the Texaco but Ashley there near tore your hair out against the beer coolers for encroaching on her shift. Everyone needed work and Spark City had never been much of a City, too little infrastructure to prosper its community in good times, much less in the pits of a recession. The Best Buy in El Paso was hiring, you read in a mail advertisement. Their wages cost as much gas it took to drive there and back.

So you got pretty good at something else, something Officer Presley wouldn’t be impressed by, or maybe he would in a moment of weakness but lord, much as you worried and panicked some times about him dropping in on the Trucker stop, meeting eyes and him just knowing you’d been doing extracurriculars, he never showed. Must not have been his scene. Not that you were sure what his scene was, you only ever saw him in his patrol car or else cleaning his guns on his trailer porch next to his Tiger figurine.

You assumed he liked blow jobs as much as the next man. But he never showed and so you got more and more lax, went out back of the bar to the Sagebrush desert and blew heavy tippers against the concrete wall, ant bites and stickers plaguing your knees. So far you hadn’t even needed to walk on over past the broken wall to the dingy motel in back and do the horizontal tango.

Moderate extracurriculars and the dancing was enough to tip your little piggy bank into having a little something to shake at the end of the day. You got yourself a haul of cereal and hot pockets that night, even splurged on milk that went rancid by the next day without refrigeration. You spent your late mornings debating how much money you had left for rent and how much you had for electricity and the viability of buying a generator instead of paying the bill. You also wanted a Blackberry phone real bad, your old flip phone a relic and on its last wheezes -maybe that’s why your dad’s calls never came through.

You were chewing off the price tag of your dollar flip flops, walking barefoot out of your daytime workplace -Dollar General- at the end of your shift when you realized there was a patrol car pulled up beside your Ford. First you cursed, then you grinned as you saw the familiar figure of Officer Presley wiping at your windshield with a bandana. Then you cursed again as you realized he was checking your expired tags.

You jogged over the burning asphalt, still tied flip flops in hand, hoping you didn’t look like shit from having taken off the Dollar Store vest without smoothing your hair afterwards. You hadn’t been good, he could be here for anything, soliciting, or for the speeding you know he caught on his radar or else the tags.

“Hey officer!” you chirped, as carefree and smiley as you could manage -and you’d gotten to be a tidy little liar at the club, insisting you couldn’t wait to have greasy, unwashed truckers in your mouth.

He turned his head slowly, hand still heavy on the windshield and observed you through those glasses again. “Don’t you ‘hey officer’ me.” he retorted, riled despite himself at the way you always said his rank like he had you locked up with frilly pink handcuffs to his waterbed. He shook his head and focused on the variety of delinquencies he had to reprimand you for. “These tags are out of date.”

“Aww,” you feigned consternation pretty decently as you really hadn’t bothered to prioritize the tags with every other dire cost pummeling you right now, “I’m sorry Elvis.” you tried a little familiarity as you drew closer, watching enthralled as a stale desert window tufted the front of his black locks of his sweaty forehead, “Things’ve been a lil tight for a while now, what with daddy leavin’. Slipped my mind.”

He pulled his hand off the windshield and his hands tried to rest on his hips but they slipped and ended up in an odd, off-kilter sorta sling on his pockets and belly, “They’re three years overdue.” his tone sounded unimpressed, you shivered despite the heat.

“Oh.” you chewed your lip and gazed at him hopefully.

“I oughta tan your hide, lettin’ you turn feral with all my concessions.” he said aloud while stippling his fingers on your rusting truck hood. His eyes dropped to the newly purchased, junk flip flops you still clutched. “Why’re you bare foot?”

“My last pair broke.” you explained, end of your shift the thong had snapped and here you were with the replacements.

“Well put ‘em on, the road’s nasty.” he grunted in aggravation, eyes dropping to your feet and widening in disgust at the welts and blisters you’d accumulated from your cheap stripper heels. “Holy shit, that’s gnarly right there.”

You felt a bit offended by that, wanting to object it was the toll of the job, sorta like fat guts came from lounging in patrol cars for a living. Figuring you were in deep deep enough shit as is without outright insulting him, you bit your tongue and chewed on the plastic connector again, trying to free your sandals.

“Oh for God’s sake, stop that.” he growled after a minute and to your bewilderment he stepped in your space and grabbed the foam footwear out of your mouth, “Gonna chip a tooth goin’ on that way, then your tips’ll go down, ya thought of that? No? No you don’t think ahead about nothin’.”

He was working himself up into a frustrated frenzy, tugging at the plastic tag, mumbling all the while about your behavior until it snapped at last and separated the flip flops. He stared dumbly at his success for a minute while you tittered. Bad move on your part, his eyes darkened and he genuinely scowled at you, something more effective than it should have been with his outdated sideburns carving lines in his cheeks.

“Turn around.” he demanded and you snapped your mouth shut, confused by his attitude and furtively eyeing your flip flops still dwarfed in his gloved hands. Who the hell wore gloves in this decade? In this century? In an El Paso suburb that was only a degree or two cooler than the surface of the sun.

You turned around.

“Hands on the hood.” he told you.

You placed them on the burning metal and wished you had gloves, angling your body away from the hot body of the truck, wincing at the heat, on tippy toes to save your feet from the asphalt. Was he gonna cuff you? He hadn’t even read you your rights and could a person even be arrested for tags? You really didn’t know and you never thought he would-

Suddenly a loud snap resounded in the empty parking lot and a white hot sting against your bottom distracted you from the pain of the hot car. You yelped in shock, hand flying to nurse the denim clad ass cheek that was burning from his smack. You glared over your shoulder at Officer Presley, ready to give him what for about him taking parental liberties until you saw his face folded into childish consternation, poofy bottom lip jutted out in remorse as he viewed the snapped flip flop in his hands.

He’d broken a shoe on you. Appreciation flared back, and you wanted to squeeze his cheeks and tell him it was ok, he could ruin the other, too.

“Aww shit, now I-I-I didn’t mean for that-“ he bemoaned, turning the ruined foam pad around and around in his hands as if there was a way to fix it when the other half was on the ground.

“It’s ok.” You heard yourself comfort the fucker who’d just spanked you in broad daylight.

“But you just finished your shift.” he muttered, and his consideration for your inconvenience touched you, “Here I-I-I’ll go buy ya another pair. Uh, yeah, c’mon.”

You skipped alongside him, trying to get him to look over at you but his face was flushed and his eyes trained on his task, picking out a hot pink pair instead of the polka dots you had chosen. “Does nothin’ for your lil sooties and brings the attention away from the polish ya got painted and instead directs the eye to the crustaceans and shit ya got goin’ on.” he referenced your calluses with a grimace and reached into his back pocket to pull out his worn wallet.

You stared at the hefty meat of his ass the entire time and almost missed it when he pulled out five dollars and put them on the register. You watched his ass and its khaki clad splendor as he returned the wallet without change and wiggled it into the tight back pocket.

At the double sliding glass doors of the front he snapped the tag there and then and squatted down with a little grunt, his knees popping audibly as he gallantly laid out your cheap slippers. You stepped into them, taking the liberty of putting a balancing hand on his sweaty shoulder.

His hand ran up your wrist and held you there a minute longer than it needed for stability. He squeezed twice and let go. You watched him heft himself up to his feet with admiration and a little pity for the stiff way he moved when he’d been stuck in one position for too long. Seemed to you so long as he was kept moving he did alright, nice and fluid and you’d seen him chase and tackle a man on foot awhile back, he’d been runnin’ like the wind then. He had it in him, just lounging in the patrol car hardly helped things.

You got the sudden and stupid urge to ask if he wanted to go swimming in the Motel 6’s pool, it would be good for his joints and your sore back and he’d be wet and maybe have his shirt off and you could-

“I got somethin’ to tell ya, it’s w-w-why I-I stopped when I saw your truck and uh, sweetie, let’s stay h-here in the cool.” he gently tugged your arm back with the pads of his pretty fingers hooked on your deltoid, pulling you back over the threshold and into the dryer sheet scented air of the Dollar General.

“What is it?” you asked him as he seemed nervous, a foreign look on him. You started to feel a little panic at the thought he might be leaving, going back to wherever he came from, done with this Podunk town and its big crime and little criminals.

“There ain’t no easy way to say this a-a-and I wanted you to hear it from me.” he chose his words carefully, eyes trained on the white and speckled tile below your feet until after a big breath he lifted his stunning eyes and gazed at you gently and in the most gallant way you’d ever been looked at before, murmuring in clear, compassionate tones, “They caught your daddy the other night -drug runnin’. Ain’t no petty marijuana charge or somethin’, it’s the big stuff. He’s gonna be put away, for a long while, in-car-cer-ated.” he specified with distinct pronunciation, “For a long while, Miss. I’m sorry to be the one t-t-to t-tell but I wanted you to know it’s true, I-I-l booked him in myself.”

“Well,” you swallowed hard, a little ashamed you’d been more alarmed at the prospect of officer Presley leaving than suspecting anything wrong with your walking disappointment of a father, “well damn.” you muttered.

“You don’t seem much surprised.” he pointed out, pulling his tinted shades down his nose to get a clear review of you, he had a red line on his nose from their weight.

“I barely know him anymore,” you admitted, “and I doubted he was gone spreading charity or something.”

“Yeah.”

“But damn -he was supposed to come back.” you felt a little angry about that part. A little childish for believing it too.

“Maybe he meant to,” he soothed, although your father’s entrenched position on the river suggested a more permanent stay, “and was doing all that sellin’ to give you somethin’ better but he was breakin’ the law and endangerin-“

“-Endangering others, I know.” you snapped at him, not because he was anything but nice, you snapped at him because he was very kind and he had a silver, shiny, sanctimonious badge on the large swell of his left peck.

The longer you stared at the badge the more you wanted to sink your dollar store acrylics into the meat of that man and try tearing -they’d probably break and it made your eyes swim with tears of frustration and you stomped out of the double glass doors into the heat of the parking lot. The sun would be going down soon and that’s when your best customers would pour into the club. You snapped your way across the asphalt on the flip flops he got you, ignoring his calls behind you as you wrenched open the squeaking truck door and hopped up into the cab.

“Really it’s fine!” you yelled at him as he came up to the window again, the concern and reproval written on his face way more heavy than you could take right then, “It’s not like I was expecting him back anytime soon anyway and -and you’ve got a job to do, ok? I get it. I get it, ok? Now I gotta go, officer.” You cranked up your engine and diesel fumes swirled around him. He batted the air in front of his face like a dainty lady would a swarm of flies and leaned heavier still on your rolled down window.

“I just wanted to let ya know.” he reaffirmed his intention, his gesticulations bringing your eyes to the gold watch around his wrist that jangled against the car metal, “Tell ya not to uh, don’t do nothin’ rash, alright? Just ‘cause he’s gone. You’re a big girl, you’ll make it. You ‘member what I said last time ‘bout extracurriculars?”

“I’d like to do you some extracurriculars.” you seethed with an angry smile and he looked taken aback, actually stepping away from the truck and his belly heaved with his offended breaths. One hand balled in a fist at his side and the other twitched, fiat palm swaying beside his thigh like he was gonna smack again. Extracurriculars -you’d like to take his no doubt chubby little cock right down to the sweaty thatched base and chew, just to earn a real spanking.

Maybe this lewd intent was written on your face but he slowly backed away from your truck like you’d gone looney, pointing his finger at you as he went, “You be good, I mean it. And that’s goes for respectin’ officers of the law.”

He was about to get into his side, looking over his car top in admonishment and you quickly made sure your truck was still in park before turning round in the seat and hanging yourself out the window, cleavage pressed against the edge to your best advantage and blew him a kiss. “I’m always a good girl, officer!” you swore adamantly and it stopped him dead in his tracks, stopped in a half crouch to his seat, that eyebrow disbelieving, “Officer Presley commissioned me to be good and I ain’t anything but!” you swore.

Took him five whole seconds to recall he was supposed to have his ass seated by then and he lowered himself the rest of the way into his car. His belly brushed the steering wheel and his legs spread themselves even in the driver's seat, it made your crushed breasts tingle. “Be-have.” he pointed that finger again and your thighs clamped shut on your seats, overwhelmed with unbidden thoughts of the long and slender digit probing inside you. How’d his fingers stay so slender when the rest of him bulked up?

You saluted as poorly as you could and watched him drive off, aggression plain in his accelerations and the way he took his turns. He shoulda stayed and spanked the other cheek, you thought, as you turned around and slumped in your seat, legs splayed and fighting a desperate urge to slip a hand down your shorts. You hoped to god he’d find some quiet shoulder of the road in the desert this evening and with a car passing every twelve minutes, tug a load out to the thought of wacking your denim booty with his belt. It would be good for his blood pressure.

Hands sticky from your own dismal release, you pulled out of the parking lot ten minutes behind him and, too scarce on time to go home first, drove straight to the club, knowing full well that you could always just strip down to your underwear.

Or less.

What with dad permanently unhelpful now, it was a fact of life that you’d have to do more than get by till he came back. You’d already accepted that awhile ago, this just confirmed it. You figured you’d need to save another stash of money, like the real professional girls did, girls like Kelcie and Shay, a little fund for renting out a motel room at night. The one a quarter mile out back of the truck stop, no harm in it except for a few bramble scratches in the dark and the odd coyote not scared off by the truckers’ loud moans out back at the blow job wall.

But for tonight you hadn’t any such stash and so after a few hours at the poll and chatting up the fellas lounging on barstools, you found the tip jar lacking and made one of those lil deals that were becoming almost as commonplace as getting your butt pinched.

This time, in the moth attracting glow of the outside light, your customer had a New York accent and while at cock level you learned from his fancy, dangling silver keychain that his buddies knew him as Joe E.

Now Joe E had a little brown cock and a small, fused ballsack under a sizable belly like most of these men in here did, and you did some of your best work on him. It was easy to do with him fitting in your mouth so easily, you pulled out every trick you’d learned at this wall, all of which he unfortunately resisted succumbing to more than the usual client. He’d pull himself out of your throat and he would grip his base, prolonging his experience and you supposed he had a right to it, he was paying money for something and he might as well do it how he liked but your jaw ached after a while. Soon your ears ached worse, exhausted and fed up with the self important monologue he kept up between the usual, self promoting stud talk that an unimpressive man in his forties likes to indulge in while paying for sex acts out back of a hole in the wall truckers club.

Joe E tasted like he hadn’t touched a fresh vegetable in years and through the overwhelming desire to puke you recognized with some pleasure that he was tipping you extra for being “like a damn vacuum down there, you pretty little dog.”

You drove home from the club, headlights on dim in the early morning and passed by Officer Presley’s double wide with intent, choosing the route you’d take if you were walking. It was dark inside but as you passed you saw he wasn’t asleep, his car was still gone.

You wondered if his doggie was in there or on patrol with him. You sighed and pulled into your own weedy drive, depressed with something you didn’t know the cause of.

You brushed your teeth, you ate cereal after remembering you hadn’t eaten, and stripped out of your clothes before crashing into bed, falling asleep in seconds despite the musty, unconditioned air inside.

It was the next morning, so near afternoon as to barely warrant it but Elvis Presley liked to take credit for any bit of effort he made and so let the record show it was still morning, when he entered the Waffle House off Moody Blvd and sat himself down in a booth and ordered his usual. It arrived at 11:56 in the morning and so it was breakfast, not lunch by any stretch of the imagination. He’d been up all night, the usual plaguing reasons and a few added to it. You, thoughts of you and tanning your hide and gripping you and you squirming over his lap made his patrols a hellish experience and he was almost glad for the distraction of the fucker without plates pulling out in front of him and making a run for it through the border checkpoint at 8:45 pm.

Now he was distracting himself with food, and if there was anything in his life to rival his appreciation of a slippery and obligin’ pussy, it was five scrambled eggs piled high on a white plate with burnt bacon to the side and waffles stacked on a companion plate. Brenda put them down with a smile and gave him a side hug that made his face brush her apron and shoulda gotten her fired by the food regulations but Elvis liked Brenda for her affectionate ways and the way he didn’t ever have to correct her about his order.

“You look tired.” she worried over him and he found a smile starting to threaten on his face, he stuck his fork in the eggs to distract himself.

“Just a busy night.” he admitted and absentmindedly rubbed at his sore knee.

“Aww you’re a treasure, keepin’ us so safe.” he patted his arm again and he fully smiled this time. “You just tell me if you need anythin’ else. I’ve got more coffee, lemme get ya more coffee, Elvis.”

“Thanks Miss Brenda.” he called to her and she giggled as she fetched the cloudy pot.

The bell over the entrance jangled and from Elvis’ chosen vantage point in a booth that faced the doors, always facing his entry that man, he saw Joe Esposito walk in, smiling like a motherfucker for a Wednesday morning and swaggering like Elvis hadn't seen the little runt do since he passed the bar back in 1980 something.

“Hey Brenda, hey EP!” Joe greeted and Elvis braced himself for a cheerful morning when all his hopes had been for some quiet and a little maple syrup glazed despondency.

“Hey Joe.” Elvis greeted his old friend, “You in town?”

“Yeah, my route’s takin’ me to Las Cruces.” Joe informed him as he helped himself to the booth across from Elvis without invitation. If he ate one of Elvis’ bacon strips, even reached for it, Elvis would be pulling out his Glock.

“How’s business?” Elvis asked as neutrally as possible, knowing that it was a sore subject for Joe who had once bragged about being destined for big things, holding it over everybody else at the high school back in Memphis. Still Elvis couldn’t help but ask, partly because it was small talk and if he could get Joe on the subject he knew the feller wouldn’t stop talking, and Elvis could then eat his eggs with minimal requirements for speech. He also took some inner consolation in the fact that all Joe’s brags had worked out about as poorly as Elvis’ dreams had.

It made for two portly middle aged men in a Waffle House booth discussing gas prices at noon.

Joe ordered just pancakes and Elvis judged the lack of meat from beneath his lavender shades and patiently asked the right questions to keep Joe smacking his breakfast with an open mouth and waxing sentimental about life on the road. It suited Joe, even if it was boringly unimportant, he was king of the road in between stops at Walmart distribution centers and out in the stretches of no man’s land the girls were cheap, far cheaper than any Times Square street walker. Joe hadn’t been to Times Square since he was sixteen but it was something he still liked to brag of and to incorporate in his life story like it was an integral part of his narrative.

“But are they fresher?” Elvis inquired, always intrigued by the subject of pussy but also harboring a deep aversion to the way most men spoke on the subject.

“Nah, not really, but that’s why ya go for the mouth.” Joe catechsied Elvis on the ways of call girls and Elvis felt his eye twitch, personally he enjoyed blow jobs as much as the next guy but to avoid the pussy all together as Joe was suggesting? It took all the joy out of the act for Elvis and he picked at his eggs morosely as he listened. He’d had such a large appetite before Joe sat down and started talking of fishy cunts and girls with throats like drainage pipes.

Joe had been to the truckers lounge, the trucker club, the strip place, whatever it was called -the place Marty ran. Elvis knew it, he tried not to react to the name, to pretend he didn’t gas up at the Texaco next door with the express intent of hoping to catch sight of you some nights. He never did, and he’d never been in. But Joe had gone in and Joe being Joe sat across from Elvis the next morning and bragged to a law officer about paying for a blow job. Which along with ruining Elvis’ appetite was offense enough for Elvis to decide to arrest the fucker, but the eloquent details of the slut who’d given it to him made Elvis see red.

Elvis didn’t really mind folks watching you, some stupid, possessive part of him was glad that all those fuckers drooled over you and couldn’t touch, same as him as he sat year after year in his lawn chair on his porch, watching you pass his trailer with longer and longer legs, prettier and prettier as the dusty days rolled by.

But to touch you? That someone else had touched you? The butter on his waffles suddenly looked wrong.

“-just fifty bucks man. Fifty bucks well spent.” Joe was bragging like he’d cheated the stock market and Elvis heard a roar in his ears that the doctors swore the pills would take care of.

You’d sucked Joe Esposita for fifty dollars right after Elvis had told you to be good and you’d blown him a kiss.

His chest hurt.

Elvis had Joe’s greasy face pressed into the syrupy plate with his hands behind his back and cuffs clanking before either the officer or the suspect even realized his intent. “Prostitution’s illegal, motherfucker, as is paying for such services in the state of Texas.”

You’d told him you’d be good. Fuck! He so badly didn’t wanna think of Joe being your first that he had to countenance speculation about you making a regular habit of this thing which was both worse and better all at once and he took out his frustration at that knowledge by trundling Joe into the back of the squad car with far more force than necessary.

It was a flimsy charge to file, Elvis knew that even before the clerk gave him the usual papers to fill out with a confused look. Wasn’t like Elvis was gonna put down your face or name, give away your crime. Without that connection the charge of paying for sex was flimsy and Joe would be released before dark. But it was nice to hear him sqealin’ and bitchin’ about his driving schedule and a buncha other ordinary begs that made Joe E sound as pathetic as Elvis knew he was.

It fortified Elvis throughout the day, kept him from going to your trailer or interrupting you at work to ask why in God’s name you would degrade yourself like that. It kept him bolstered with red hot rage until he was staked out in desert twilight on the dark side of the Texaco, headlights off and his eyes squinted as he watched patrons and girls go into the club.

This was his fault, for locking your daddy up, driving you to such lengths. He felt sick about it, shoulda known a stubborn, white trash girl like you would just reach for the next alternative this easy. Made him sick. Elvis suddenly felt nice and superior to all these men filing into the neon lit cinderblock structure, he had resisted touching himself to the fantasies that had filled his mind about you last night. Wasn’t pertinent that he had a stiffy right now, that was just the nerves and excitement of a stake out revving him up

He lit up a cigar and let Mellancamp growl over the stereo, engine off and the key turned just a little for the dash lights to stay on. He wasn’t sure when you got off work at the club, he assumed it must be some time around dawn and that suited his shit circadian rhythm just fine. He wasn’t tired as the hours went by, he was downright furious and his heart hurt and he popped a couple oxys sitting there with his busted knee throbbing and his mind a demented echo chamber.

By the time the sky was turning a sickly violet with the first promises of sunrise, Elvis had worked himself up to such a degree as to have his door flung open and one boot rhythmically tapping against the cement in his agitation, legs spread to alleviate the ache his pills had provoked in his groin even as the rest of him felt loose and untethered and decidedly deserving for once.

When you walked out the front of the club into the stale early morning air you laughed to yourself at the silliness of thinking you’d need a coat. Your little denim shorts and cherry print crop top suited just fine even in the early dark. That NASCAR jacket you’d had your eye on, the one Shay showed you on eBay, it would have to wait, the tips were shit tonight. No real hurt with that, wasn’t like it was cold. Just another something you wanted and would have to put off. You hadn’t driven tonight as the walk was cheaper and closer but you’d forgotten your pepper spray back at the truck stop and you hesitated for a moment about going back in, hating the idea of getting sucked into some sorta early morning drama from the drunk leftovers. While you were debating, a flash of white seared your vision and you staggered to a stop in the middle of the mostly deserted parking lot.

Headlights.

Well shit, now you really wished you had that spray. You thought about making a run for it, trying the nearest truck cab and praying the guy in it was less of a creep than whoever stakes out on the deserted side of the building.

“You get over here!” the approaching figure came into view, finally silhouetted by his own lights as he stalked towards you wearing a leather trench coat like some noir villain.

It would be a lie to say you breathed easier when you recognized Officer Presley’s commanding baritone.

“Shit shit shit.” you chanted beneath your breath at how riled he sounded and his right hand started making angry gestures for you to approach as he himself closed the distance with a deceptively fast gait.

“Hey, get your ass over here, I called you.” he yelled far more loudly than necessary with his massive hands already closing around your wrists, you didn’t even think to make a run for it, where exactly in the world was a kinder place to turn to than this angry law officer who always nosed in your business too much? “Get, get over here.” he repeated with a yank and tugged you stumbling over your flip flops to his squad car.

He bent you over the hood, just like you’d dreamed of more than a few times and you felt the heat of the headlight against your thigh as your shoulders got twisted back. “-solicitation,” he was pronouncing and your heart sank at the realization he had caught you after your promise, “prostitution-“ the cold clamp of a handcuff on your wrist had none of the rebel thrill you once imagined, it was terrifying and you whimpered pathetically at the thought that you’d expended his patience, that maybe your flirty banters had been one sided and he really was fed up with you.

“Officer-“ you begged with your cheek smashed to the hood.

Some guy had walked up, actually being a good citizen and concerned about the manhandling. It took one flash of Officer Presley’s badge for the guy to back away with a mere “you at least gonna read her the rights, man?”, throwing concerned looks over his shoulder. Maybe he’d been a tipper, you didn’t recall one face from another unless they were awfully ugly or skinny.

“Yeah, yeah I’ll read you your rights, you got the goddamn right to remain silent-“ Officer Presley was struggling with the other cuff and his weight on your lower back made you wheeze just as he was short of breath. He was awfully worked up, huffily trying to clasp the cuffs and slurring your Miranda rights carelessly for so staunch a believer in laws and precepts.

When he succeeded and stood you upright you craned your neck to look at his sweaty face behind you and his eyes were wild and his hair disheveled like he’d run his hands through it a million times tonight. He looked a bit obsessed with his nose flaring like that, his speech slurring and his usual decorum completely goners.

“Are you drunk?” you balked in alarm as he trundled you into the backseat, face first into leather with your cuffed hands behind you, ass stuck out the door.

“Of course I ain’t!” he howled and pushed your butt further until you righted yourself on the bench seat, “I’m your officer of the law, that’s what I am.”

“I-I-I know that, I just-“ you felt a cold sweat break out at the realization he kept all his stubborn righteousness even skunk drunk on something, “-you seem a little…impaired. For a law officer. For a law officer driving on a government road. See! I do listen, I do and I really don’t think that while you’re dr-“

“I don’t even touch the booze, unlike you.” he spit. “Nothin’ gonna get you outta this, this time you’re gonna learn your lesson!” he wagged his finger and slammed the door shut, you could hear his seething monologue through his open door as he came round and took his own seat up front, the hard plastic partition only muting it slightly. “I can’t stand, won’t stand for it, no hard times gonna make for you-“

You tugged at the cuffs on your wrists and swallowed at their security, the ole man might be inebriated but he sure knew his line of work. It made you doubly anxious at how vulnerable you were, unbuckled and cuffed in the back seat of a man about to hit the road in a blind, possibly medicated rage. Your one glimmer of hope was the fact you were the cause of that rage -and you hoped, hoped so damn hard he cared out of some sort of fondness, not anger.

“Strippin’ and blowin’ and probably snortin’ shit and you ain’t even outta highschool-“

“You turned eighteen?!” He balked, jerking the rearview down to stare you in the eyes.

“Yes sir.” you agreed meekly.

“And you didn’t tell me? I’d have gotten you somethin’!” he cried out, “Eighteen and don’t tell nobody, no mama, no daddy, and now fuckin’ with the law-“

“Officer Presley I understand you’re angry and I’m sorry-“ you tried your most vehemently ass kissing tone and scooted up to the edge of the seat, face pressed the the scuffed, forehead greased plastic divider, “I’m so sorry I had to break my promise to ya but money’s been so tight, I—ooh shit-!“

You tipped over on your side as he hit the accelerator, the wheel already turned for a complete 180 spin to leave the dingy parking lot and its flashing neon lights. You sat yourself back up and pressed your face back where you could watch his leather gloves spin the wheel, and breathe as close to him as possible even if it didn’t serve to make him notice. The plastic sorta hampered the more primal assets at your disposal. You were readying for some more protests when he spoke up, his pouty, boyish, hurt tone emphasized by his jerky merging into three lanes worth of morning commute traffic

“— why didn’t you come to me?” he cried out and you had to give it to him, crossing three white lines that smoothly while in a rage wasn’t for anyone, he had a knack, “Why didn’t you say, ‘Officer Presley, if I don’t have me enough money for’ -what is it you need money for?”

“EVERYTHING!” You screamed back, exasperated and a little scared at the blur of tail lights he wove you through.

“You’re greedy,” he surmised, “you’d rather go work at the tit shack as a lot lizard, shakin’ it for strangers and suckin’ Joe E’s cock than ask for my help. My help!” He stabbed at his chest with a gloved finger and it was quite obvious how tore up he was over that mental image, you didn’t know he knew such particulars but you could use this to your advantage, you could try at least.

“Officer Presley,” you cooed as gently as you could with road noise and a plastic divider hampering your sultry intentions, if you had freedom of movement you’d be reaching around his thick neck and tucking that one sweaty curl behind his ear where it tufted with his sideburn, “I’d have preferred it was you,” you watched closely as that sank in, the lead foot easing on the accelerator, there was a choice up ahead, left to the precinct or right to the trailer park, “but I’ve got my pride and I couldn’t just take charity from you. I kept hopin’ you’d come in, then we could both do each other a favor.”

You could hear him sniff, running a hand underneath his nose. “That right?”

“Yeah.” You breathed, forehead thudding back against the plastic and at the red light intersection he stopped and craned his neck to look at you. “Don’t take me in, not this morning, please, pleaaasssse!” you begged, “We’ve both been working all night and we’re tired and sad and- you need somebody to make you dinner before you fall asleep, don’t ya?”

It was a dirty, dirty ploy to distract him like that but you could see with searing clarity the way his eyes wavered in their glare, then softened into childlike meekness at the thought of food and companionship. “You wanna come back to mine?” he whispered, gravelly from all the yelling and his eyelids batted under the lavender shades, azure and owlish.

“I really do.” you agreed, “Mine hasn’t had any air conditioning in seven months.” you admitted and he made a wounded noise of protest for your deprivations. You’d make him see why you took to stripping, he just had to be eased into it.

“I didn’t take it outta the freezer ‘fore I left.” he realized dejectedly as he turned right -away from the station.

You took a massive breath and tried to make it go to your swimming head, relief coursing through you at getting your way. Then you tried to process what he’d said. “Oh, your dinner?” you prodded.

“Yeah. It’s frozen. Lasagna.” he mumbled.

“Well, that’s nothing me and a microwave can’t solve.” you assure, gauging how his profile had softened in the dim lighting of the cab lights but his grip on the wheel and his jittery leg were about as stiff and upset as when he cuffed you. “What could I do for you in exchange for a bite?” you whispered, the sudden stop of the car making you realize with a hitch in your breath that you were in front of his place.

“I liked you.” he suddenly spoke up with such vehemence that it would have been comedic, what with him having already given into you and taken you home, but instead it was a little heartbreaking. “I liked you but you was too young!”

“I still like you.” you hedged, “Even though you cuffed me and called me a lot lizard.” you teased.

The solicitation, the sharing, it seemed to be his chief sore.

“That’s whatchu is!.” He grouched, staring out his front windshield at the single hung lamp illuminating freshly washed vinyl. “But I’ve taken you home anyways.”

“It’s really sweet of you.” you insisted, shifting on the peeling bench seat and wondering when he’d take you out of the car. “Are you gonna let me warm up that lasagna?”

“You said you wished I’d come in?” he ignored you and went back to your previous comment, about wishing he had frequented the truck stop.

Well, well, Officer Presley - a man like all others, after all.

You smirked, sticky lip gloss feeling a little cracked at this corners as you beamed at your little victory. “Maybe I could find a way to show my appreciation for takin’ me back to your air conditioned little palace. -while the lasagna is warming up.” you clarified and heard him grunt, and shift, his legs spreading a little wider in the cramped front seat.

“Yeah?” he pressed, sounding a little winded unless you were just too quick with the assumptions tonight.

“Yeah.”

“You offerin’ to be *my* lot lizzard?” He asked and after a tense minute where you were unsure if he was about to be angry again, he tapped the glass and whispered, “A joke, c’mon, don’t you get it? It’s a joke.”

“But I would!” You insisted after laughing for his benefit.

“Hmm.” He sniffed again, “Well. Hmm.” and with that unclear utterance he opened his door and heaved himself out into the stale Texas air, hiking up his pants again in that useless habit and shutting it behind him. It seemed an eternity before he finished hiking and shifting and shaking a leg out before he came and opened your door, a gentlemanly action made necessary by the stupid cuffs, still clanking around your wrists, as you scooted out of the back seat.

Officer Presley surveyed you up and down, blinking blearily as if he hadn’t seen you fully in the dark parking lot, like the glare of his headlights wasn't sufficient to show him your little cherry tank top and denim shorts, the satin tops of your red bra peeking out of the stretched neckline. “Hmm.” he hummed again and surveyed you once more, the pull of the cuffs behind your back adding to your posture being a bit booby. “Now ‘fore you cross my threshold, I’ve got house rules.” he was swaying a bit alarmingly and caught himself on the side mirror, you chose to ignore this and give him all the deferential attention needed to cure his -jealousy? Was he jealous? Of all the men who tipped you? “First rule, no dirty feet in the house. I hate filthy carpets. I hate them.”

“O-ok.” you agreed.

“Clean feet.”

“Okey.”

“Hmm. Ok.” he closed his eyes and recalled the next, “Let’s see uh- no back talkin’! No talkin’ back, what I say, goes, in my house.”

It was a trailer, not a house. But:

“Of course! You’re the man of the house!” you enthused with a little bounce for his benefit. He was still wacky and veering so fast from niceness to belligerence you were pretty sure you’d end up a little worse for wear after this no matter what. The thought excited you.

“Ok.” he pronounced, staring at the gravel and your feet like he didn’t know what to do now. You wondered when was the last time somebody had come into his place. “I got a doggie, too. Backroom. His word is law, don’t go botherin’ him none.“

Having seen the size of the dog, even if you were inclined to be a jerk to it, you wouldn’t dare. “Gosh of course.”

“Ok.” again. “I’ll get the hose.”

He left you there, leaning cuffed against his squad car as he trundled over his singed lawn to the side of the trailer, returning with the running hose in hand.

You knew it was destined for your feet and didn’t make a fuss as the warm hose water splashed against your blisters, soothing away the dust and the sticky cocktail splashes and god knows what else.

“House rules?” he prompted as he sprayed.

It was getting quite light out now. Probably close to six in the morning. What a long night. “Clean feet, respect doggie, no back talking.” You listed.

“And make yourself useful.” he grunted as if he had mentioned that before and you’d been faulty in your retelling.

“Yeah, of course.”

“Mm, ‘cause you’re my lot lizard now, ain’t ya?” he hummed, hose pointed to the side and suddenly his face was very close to yours, his belly closer and pressed to yours.

“Y-yeah.” you gasped.

“You gonna be a useful lil helper, hmm? Let hims take care of ya while you take care of him?”

Well shit, you weren’t at all sure if this were house rules or a big sexual game. Either way you wanted some lasagna and the crisp prospect of air conditioned sleep. “Yes, officer.”

“Good girl.” he turned the nozzle off on the hose, clamping it at the mouth and dropping it to the gravel.

“You- are you gonna uncuff me?” you giggled nervously as he swayed above you, nose almost brushing yours, eyes heavy and drooping.

“Hmm,” he stepped back and hooked a thumb in his belt loop, a shit eating grin spread over his face, bunching up the apples of his cheeks and turning him into a boy before your very eyes, “nah. I think -nope. Not gonna.”

“Well- shit, officer.” You sputtered, “You’ve got some little secrets?”

“I’ll let you be the judge of how little they are, sweetheart.” he cheesed before reaching out and hooking a finger in your strap, and tugging you gently by it up his porch.

It was odd, Seeing his ceramic tiger up close. Like déjà vu, or walking into a movie, some dream playing out. If your hands had been free, you would’ve pet the head concrete reverently, feeling some sort of gratitude to the noble beast for making your girlhood wishes come true as you tripped through the screen door and into an icebox of a trailer.

He shut the door and pressed you up against it with a move smoother and more practiced than you expected from him. Maybe wrestling criminals and doing the nasty called for the same dexterity. Or maybe he’d been fuckin’ somebody else all this time, waiting for you to grow up. Maybe he’d made a whole harem out of the trailer park and you were just his last pick. The thought hurt terribly, worse yet as you knew most days he was a sweetie, a funny man, attractive and well liked, not this grumpy, pill drunk trailer Baron that smushed you with his belly and sneering face so near but never descending as a lover’s should.

“Kiss me.” you goaded, licking your lips in a studied way. The little contemplative, whining sound he made took you by surprise.

He pulled down your bottom lip with a gloved finger and checked your mouth and tongue like a damn dentist. “Listerine first.”

Of course. Hygiene.

Clean feet, clean mouth, just for him to probably put his piss dribbled cock in it.

He stepped away and methodically took off his gloves, laid them on a small, doily adorned side table by the door, and then his gun and his belt came off with a satisfied grunt that made your inner thighs tingle. The thud of his large flashlight finished this routine.

Doilies.

There were doilies and frilly curtains and the oddest assortment of cheap finery around the place. A nod to the Tuscan craze taking over places like Target and such, while having a unique spin on it you weren’t sure what to name. You took it all in as he piloted you to the bathroom and methodically he pulled out a still wrapped toothbrush and plopped a jumbo sized bottle of mint flavored mouthwash on the fake marble counter.

“You kept that in case you have a lady guest?” You teased as the clinical silence was all a bit funny.

“Yeah.” he agreed without a hint of amusement and you sobered up again at the idea of him having anybody in here but you.

He poured a large quantity of the mouthwash into a paper cup, retrieved from the tidy stack of paper cups beside the sink for that purpose. His housekeeping was an odd mix of spectrum-like meticulousness and slovenly disorder. There were three pairs of pants on the bathroom rug beneath your feet and yet the mouthwash cups were stacked as carefully as the Tower of Babel. “Swish it for seventy five seconds.” He directed very soberly, tipping the liquid disinfectant into your mouth. You almost swallowed the shit. While you swished till your eyes burned and your tongue went numb from scalding mint, he tore at the packaging for the toothbrush.

“Ok, spit.” you happily spat out the green torture liquid and grinned back at him in the mirror.

“Never had a man ask me to spit it out before.” you teased.

He fumbled the toothbrush in surprise for a minute before giving you an admonishing eyebrow. “Girl don’t. We gotta brush your teeth.”

Instead of doing the obvious thing, the honorable thing and uncuffing you, he instead took his place behind you and pushed the toothbrush between your lips, moving it as if you had no arms and were helpless. All this to keep you cuffed.

What a pervert, you thought, charmed.

It was oddly cozy even if it was more than a tad bazaar, him pressing himself to you and running his spare hand along your side as you bent over the counter, trying not to ruin the moment by slurping paste too much. It didn’t seem to bother him, he didn’t watch you brush, he just discreetly rubbed the front of his slacks against your butt and kept his hand jerking the brush across your teeth. His other hand soothingly running up and down the curve of your hip, fingers fluttering under the hem of your tank and brushing bare skin with reverent little swoops.

When you were finished he laid the toothbrush down beside his, on a folded little towel in the back left corner of the vanity next to the mirror.

The domesticity made you smile. “Look, they’re spooning.”

He grabbed your chin gently, tilting your head to the side as he leaned over your shoulder. His lips very close again. “Happy late birthday.” he whispered, “I’d have gotten you a cake. Cupcake. Somethin’. You deserve to be celebrated.”

“Kiss me?” you asked again and this time he did, at his own pace, micromanaging each swipe of tongue and press of lips but he kissed you, strongly and angrily and admiringly in turn. He pulled down your tank as he went, stretching the neck out beyond any salvaging and then your bra, unclasping it with strange proficiency and letting your top gather in a ugly bulge around your hips, stuck by your cuffs and shorts, as his hands cupped and squeezed your breasts, somehow making this appreciative mauling seem essential to the act of kissing.

You two finally separated, breathless and revved up, staring at each other with wild, half lidded eyes.

“Ok.” he pronounced and you readied for more only for him to say, “Lasagna. C’mon.”

His kitchen was far nicer than yours, but still it was a mobile home kitchen. And he was a thorough bachelor. He crooked his fingers into the plastic handle and yanked open the freezer, standing aside with a grin on his face that bode no good for you. “I’m helpin’ ya out a little,” he explained sheepishly, “since you’re hampered.” he had a way of saying it like handcuffs were a natural disability, “But I let you off scott-free in exchange for you makin’ me some food.”

“Food and other things.” you bitched, “Didn’t sign up to be a comedy act.”

“Oh that’s right,” beamed, “you did offer other things.” he bit his lip and you thought you’d won when he went right back to it, “You said while it was warming up, you offered other things, while it was in the microwave. Yeah, so go on, grab that TV dinner there, not the fettuccini one, the lasagna.”

You stared at the open freezer and then back to him and then back to the freezer. “Grab it?” you sassed, not having a lot to lose with your tits out and your hands cuffed and a law officer having fun at your expense.

“You’ve got a mouth don’t ya?”

“You’re sick.” you smiled in realization before sticking your head into the cold space, nipples pebbling against the chilled plastic, and biting at the package containing Walmart’s latest gourmet provisions.

“Uhuh, that’s it.” he sounded more pleased at the sight of you with a frosted package between your teeth than he had all this time, “Heyer doll, I’ll open the microwave for ya.” his ability to make himself gallant when he was demeaning you so thoroughly made your pulse thunder uncontrollably.

You had to jut your chin and strain your jaw to plop the heavy foil package of frozen shit into the mounted microwave -fancy mobile home owning bastard- and shove it onto its proper revolving plate.

“There we gooo!” he cooed to you and you stepped back to allow him room to shut the door. “See if you can punch the buttons with your widdle nose.” he suggested excitedly and having gone this far, you didn’t see the point in objecting, not when it made him grin like that. You managed to hit the five for five minutes but the “cook” button wouldn’t respond and after banging your nose against it many times, with many laughs shared between, he finally punched it with one of his oddly pretty fingers.

“There we go.” you echoed, finding that you were blushing the minute the hum of the microwave buzzed the air, his eyes pinned to your face.

“Five minutes.” he whispered.

It was a hint. You expected something a little lewder from a man who had you carrying out food prep like a circus dog. A man of many moods and tastes, was officer Presley. “Can you cum that fast?” you asked, turning to face him.

“That’ll depend on you.” he replied levelly, a challenge in his eyes. He still wore his glasses, somehow that made you feel filthier than all the cash favors you’d ever done. He turned a little in his stance to lean back against the counter, his wrist watch jangling against the edge of the formica, his legs widening.

You dropped to your knees, linoleum freezing against your skin and you looked back up at the ticking microwave timer. You knew what he wanted, and if you were being half honest, it’s what you wanted too. So you didn’t act too good for pressing your face to the crotch of his uniform slacks, forehead indenting the swell of his belly above you and taking his zipper between your teeth. Filled out as his slacks were, with all the stupid gathers and the still fastened button, you could only barely see veiny pink flesh behind the newly opened fly.

“No boxers?” you chided him with a smirk and the unapologetic one he gave you in return made your belly clench, as did the musky smell of him and that soft double chin he had when looking down at you. There was stubble on it blending into his throat.

You’d been right, mouthwash and sterilization for your tongue but not even a spit bath for his sweaty balls and clammy dick -the man was out of his mind. You swallowed down the natural aversion the scent gave you and nuzzled your face nearer, trying to nose the button out of its hole. All you did was succeed in brushing his pants against him and making him impatient.

“Four minutes and twenty seven seconds.” He enunciated the timer reading for your benefit and you whimpered at the impossibility of getting the button undone without hands.

“Please, I can’t undo it.” you asked for his help, tugging at your handcuffs angrily, shoulders painfully aching and only the base of his thick penis visible with its nest of curls and heavy sack.

“Then make due.” he stared down at you unimpressed and you felt an overwhelming urge to grind yourself against his boot at his disdainful expression.

Blinking away horny, frustrated tears, you held your breath and buried your face again, nuzzling inbetween the fly gap, using your chin to tug the crotch further down until his heavy, purplish pink balls spilled over the respectable khaki’s and into the cold air. A bit of hope filled you at how taut and bunched they already were, he wasn’t so cool and unaffected as he acted. You saw him reach into his pocket, digging for something as you weighed your next decision.

“Don’t you want some lasagna?” he prodded.

That made you mash your face to his pants and take both of those hairy balls into your mouth, slurping and sucking at them like a shop vac. His jangling movements in his pocket ceased suddenly before picking up again, and then he withdrew it, a sharp gasp heard above you before he stuck a retrieved cigarette between his lips and lit it. A billowy cloud of Marlborough was blown over your crouching form as the microwave hummed on and his chest hummed in satisfaction. He shoved his hand back into his pocket, knuckling along at his cock.

“That’s it.” he sighed as you mouthed at the base as best you could, tonguing at the hefty vein running along the underside, slathering as much as you could reach. He was salty and tacky to taste and his pants were growing wet from something more than your spit. He was a leaky little man, it made your smirk and smack your lips.

“Feel good, officer?” you moaned in question, just as the microwave dinger went off. “Nooo, damnit, no!” you whined at the sound, a poor loser at all times.

Officer Presley only chuckled and twisted a little to pop open the door, hissing and cussing as he grabbed the benign edges of the hot foil and plopped it into the counter, “Hey hey hey, I didn’t say you could get up, now, did I?” he chided as you shifted a tiny bit away to watch him pull off the cover and reveal cheesy red sauce. Your stomach was in knots, it was so empty.

“No.” you admitted.

He twisted his torso to snag himself a fork from the drawer beside your head, and then, stabbing the casserole with it, took both his hands down to his pants and undid the button at last, letting his pants fall to the floor as they’d been trying to do and been prevented by a belt each time you’d seen him. “Finish what you started, doll, and then I’ll give you a bite.”

You swallowed hard, saliva pooling freely in your tongue at the smell of Italian food. It would be of use. He was tapping his sputtering fat cockhead to your lips and after a tiny grunt of resistance, you gave in, opening your glossy lips and letting him slide the thick meat over your tongue, tangy and salty and pulsing like a living rod, all the way to the back of your throat.

“Fuck me, that’s it.” he nodded to himself as you gagged around him, pulling back a little before pushing back in.

You heard the slide of the casserole tray against the counter and the crunch of tin foil, looking up through bleary eyes you saw him cradle the lasagna pan to his chest, balanced on top of his gut. You hollowed your cheeks around him while watching in disbelief as he stabbed at a bite and brought the laden fork to his mouth. He groaned around the bite in enjoyment -your guess over which pleasure was gaining the upper hand. Feeling a little competitive against TV dinner lasagna, you worked his cock faster, sucking more deliberately and trying very hard to let him down your throat, pleased as his hips began to cant and thrust in time with your encouragements.

“That’s it, that’s it, my sweet little homegrown hoe.” he mumbled to you adoringly through a mouthful of pasta and it made your face glow in pleasure, chin and chest dripping with the filth of it all. “I’m gonna, I’m gonna-“ he warned suddenly, pasta tossed back on the counter as he stood up straight and grabbed the back of your head, holding it still, smoldering cigarette pinned dangerously near your ear and hair as he fucked your mouth with fast, frantic pumps before a frankly preposterous amount of spunk filled your mouth and dolloped down your throat.

He petted your head as you struggled to breath again, cloying gloop coating your mouth, one hand coming up to take off his glasses and toss them to the side. He rubbed at his eyes and you realized you weren’t the only one teary eyed from the intensity of it. “Mm, reckon I gotta keep ya after that.” he decided, knuckling your cheek fondly, they were sticky to your surprise. “Want that bite?” he asked conversationally and while you’d have preferred some water to wash down his most recent gift, you nodded anyway and he stabbed at the casserole until he had a great big bite and brought it down to your mouth, smirking as your cheeks once again bulged at the mouthful.

“Thank you.” you smiled up at him and he humphed bashfully before motioning with his fingers for you to stand up.

“Wanna eat the rest of this in bed?” he asked eagerly, licking his teeth, “I’ve got a waterbed.” he added like that would convince you.

“Of course you do.” you giggled. “And of course I do - lead the way.”

He grinned and pushed off the counter, grabbing the casserole as he went. “Might even find the keys for those back here.” he joked about your cuffs before adding with a wicked little wink, “No promises, mind.”

Hope you enjoyed, I write for screams and comments and unhinged feedback. 🤓♥️

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#early post for my brit babies #elvis presley #elvis fanfiction #elvis fanfic #elvis #elvis imagine #elvis presley smut #elvis presley fan fic #elvis presley fandom #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis x reader #elvis x y/n #elvis x you #big daddy elvis #big daddy Elvis fanfiction #archive #trash magic

[starberry-cupcake]

Me reading this book is like trying to pin things to a cork board with red thread but the things I'm trying to pin down are fog and they vanish before I can grasp them.

Here's a visual representation of me finishing a chapter:

previously, in harrowbeenie the ninth:

this happened

currently, after chapter 5 (you're gonna have to be patient with this one):

we're moving back and forth between the second and third person

knowing now the content of the letters that yandere twin had talked about in the prologue, it makes some sense

but we aren't there yet

I need to point out something I don't think I specified enough last time

ice cube barbie changed eyes

people be changin' eyes here

she used to have eyes like harrow and now she has, and I quote: "ever since you had writhed in Lyctoral agony, her eyes had turned a yellow that made you dizzy to behold: a bronzed, hot, animal yellow, as amber as the inside of an egg"

this is from gideon's last ch.: "Gideon's eyes, as they always did, startled her: their deep, chromatic amber, the startling hot gold of freshly-brewed tea"

just gonna leave that there

but now, moving forward...or backwards to ch. 3 flashback of sorts

we got a recap of most of the events we knew, but in a gideon-less ver.

I'm gonna also point out that harrowbean mentions her mother holding her wrist the same way she said ice cube barbie did when they were in the coffin hangar

another addition to the clown emperor's story is that the Resurrection is described in harrow's memories as "ten thousand years ago had given them all release from death that none of them had deserved"

I don't know about any of this

we've got a disturbance in the force when harrow describes her parents finding out about the tomb thing

it says "her parents had...found out...about what she had done"

interesting edit of the story there

there's a gideon-sized hole in this story

there's also an interesting new count of nooses??

she says they tied five, two for mortus (???) but in gideon's book she said they tied their own nooses and then helped her tie hers, what's up with mortus having two??? is this nothing and I'm just obsessing about every detail???

I'm gonna start seeing palmolive's force ghost roaming around my house

at the end of ch. 3 it says "there had been another girl who grew up alongside Harrow—but she had died before Harrow was born"

this is a VERY INTERESTING wording

if someone dies before you are born, they can't grow up with you

UNLESS

I'm not gonna dwell on that yet

let's put a pin on that

ch. 4 has the re-apparition of yandere twin

*live studio audience cheers, maybe*

she gives her a letter addressed to her from her

the letter has a lot of instructions of things she doesn't remember at all and also are supposed to be opened at specific times/events

one of them says "in the event of the emperor's death"

another says it's in case she sees regina george twin, which makes a whole argument happen and knives are used to settle it

yandere twin will not hear someone imply her sister might be no longer with us

she probably isn't dead, this I know for certain, people wouldn't be confusing my names for them if that was all we got from her

the most important letter, though, is the one in case she sees camilla, who harrow claims not having interacted with ever

this is a very important thing to note, but most importantly, CAMILLA MENTION

very important to be noting who harrow remembers interacting with and who she doesn't

very important as well that she remembers yandere twin losing an arm in battle but does not remember gideon or camilla

I haven't mentioned it yet but, in the letter, past!harrow tells present!harrow that she needs to check yandere twin's tongue and lower mandibule

to which I think to myself "I bet she's gonna kiss her"

and that she did

which makes me want an edition of this book but with gideon commentary

like a dvd commentary but it's gideon commenting on all this stuff

and cracking jokes

because I bet she'd be cracking jokes about this

remember when she joked that yandere twin would marry mayonnaise uncle?

and then both harrow and mayonnaise uncle were like "ew the third's magic is weird"

imagine if she saw this display

another CRUCIAL thing is that harrow is doing like an oath to yandere twin as requested by past!harrow

and she says "by the ripped and remade soul of ortus nigenad"

and yandere twin goes "who? oh, yes—the cavalier"

I mean, mood at not remembering the names, but also SUSPICIOUS BEHAVIOR

she also tells present!harrow "I gave you something you cared about very deeply at the time"

side note, there is yet another moment in which chad is read for filth

get obliterated even in undeath, chad

last detail from this chapter is that harrowbean almost gets assassinated

maybe I should have started with that

at this point there's so much going on, death seems like a normal one

so yeah, she's gonna get killed with a pillow to the face and then she defends herself and discovers at the end of the chapter that she didn't hallucinate the whole thing and it was hidden from her on purpose that somebody tried to end her

so what's the point in being in this clown death star and surviving big brother canaan house if you can't even sleep peacefully???

moving on to chapter 5

remember the timeline I was making?

yeah, about that

chapter 5, in the third person continuity, establishes that what I saw previously was not necessarily a memory but an au memory

if we can call it something at this point

so my calculations were made as if the timeline was one

but this is not one timeline, it's a sort of parallel gideon-less one

of course my heart is making me believe the gideon-less one is the one that isn't real

and that past!harrow might know what's going on with that

maybe gideon's existence needs to be protected

maybe the emperor doesn't have to know about her

(I'm still holding on to the gideon hope, leave me alone)

but, in any case, present!harrow doesn't know

let's remember the prologue begun with harrow doing something she shouldn't and yandere twin saying something like "was there something in those letters I don't know about?"

I'm just gonna have to throw my timeline in the trash and start over with multiple timelines for now

ALSO, I didn't say anything about it yet, but it's mentioned that harrow is "in love" with ice cube barbie

take that as you will

which is another joke gideon has made in the past and would be stellar in a commentary of this

and, talking about things gideon would be awesome at commenting

in the new ortus-inclusive (?) narrative, ortus is talking about the epic of Matthias Nonius, who we know because harrow has compared gideon to him in the past

and also there's is a comment made about how ortus looks down on people who read "prurient magazines or pamphlets"

I really need gideon confessionals commentary over here

she also says that "the ninth house character, she was forced to admit, had always been low on wild and confident fucks"

yeah, well, how about that

and we end with THE FLIMSY

lots of important flimsies in this

she finds a note that reads "THE EGGS YOU GAVE ME ALL DIED AND YOU LIED TO ME"

ortus says he can't read it

but, in any case,

that made me stop in my tracks because I was reminded I forgot about the writing on the walls of canaan house?????

I filed it under canaan house weirdness but then, it was never talked about?????? again????

also the paper gideon found with her name

which I assumed was addressing the other gideon that not!dulcinea mentioned knowing

but who tf knows at this point

who knows what time and space are anymore

time to leave it for today...this is getting wild, you guys

#luly reacts to tlt #tlt spoilers #harrow the ninth #harrow the ninth spoilers #the locked tomb #long post #gif cw #me looking for that scene of Kim just to make that gif #I need to start making these shorter istg

[genericpuff]

hope this isn't too out of nowhere but ik you're very critical of webtoon as a platform and often talk about how problematic it is, and something really frustrating happened to one of the creators i follow. where basically, they put out a new webtoon last week called 'Manny' and it's like all their previous works a horror story, but this week it was suddenly put on hiatus for over a month. apparently webtoon decided, after the release, to review the webtoon again and install new guidelines?? /1

Damn, so I did some digging into it, and yeah, you weren't kidding, WT literally cut A. Rasen short-

For anyone unaware, A. Rasen is also the creator of GremoryLand and Counting Sheep. Their specialty is horror, which is already a very underpopulated genre on the platform in terms of readers, but they've become known for making some of the best horror on the platform through existential storytelling and visceral body horror art. Guy is like the Junji Ito of Webtoons.

So yeah, hearing that they had started a new series and are now being cockblocked by Webtoons is, while unsurprising for Webtoons, still shocking considering Manny isn't the first webtoon they've done that's on the more viseral side, and since GremoryLand, WT has actually implemented age ratings.

I'm not sure what will happen to Manny after WT has run it through their "reviewing" process, and I feel like A. Rasen themselves are just as unsure considering this has never really happened to them before. I think it speaks volumes as to how little oversight there is in the editing process, as despite Manny having three editors, not a single person alerted A. Rasen to these content guideline violations until after the series was posted and well underway. It's not like there's a whole pre-production period where they could have done this review process that would likely involve shitloads of rewriting and redrawing /s

It also speaks to WT's ongoing issues with picking a lane. They have series that are literally softcore porn, but apparently Manny is too much? There's so much cherrypicking of the ToS happening between editors, not just in the Originals section, but in the Canvas section also, and it leads to a moderation process that basically boils down to "better hope you didn't get the stickler for your editor". I understand that WT has to have content guidelines in place for the sake of keeping their app accessible (as Apple and Google can and will restrict the WT app on their respective app stores if they feel content guidelines are being broken, and that includes content depicting blood, gore, nudity, sex, etc.) but again, it's the fact that this isn't A. Rasen's first rodeo on the platform but it's only apparently now an issue when the content moderation has been more lax in practice than ever.

So yeah, it sucks, and I wish only the best to A. Rasen as they try to sort this shit out with WT. Please go read their work and show your support! (*CW for blood/gore, violence, jumpscares, these are horror stories!)

GremoryLand

Counting Sheep

Manny

#ask me anything #ama #anon ama #anon ask me anything #webtoon critical #gremoryland #manny #counting sheep

[daisysliv]

now or never | eddie munson

word count: 4035

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: eddie's plans to confess don't exactly go to plan

warnings: swearing, angst, fluff if you squint, mentions of drugs (not specified), smut, p in v, protected sex (wrap it before you tap it mfs)

notes: sorry for being so ia for a while, i just started working, and by the time i get home, im too tired to even write, but i managed to get this done over the last few days. this was my first time writing smut, let me know if you like it! this is one of my personal favorite fics i've ever written, so i hope you like it <3 there is a part two for this in works so let me know if that's something you would like and as always, not edited, so all my mistakes are my own

library

stranger things bookshelf

Standing outside the burgundy-colored door of his best friend’s home for what felt like hours but was merely a couple of minutes as he gathered the courage to ring the doorbell. He released a puff of air that he had been holding and lifted his finger to ring the bell, only to hesitate and lower it again. He repeats the same action a few more times. He was shaking, not from the cold breeze that nipped at the exposed skins of his hands but with nerves. His heart pounded against his ribs so hard he thought it would burst out of his chest at any given moment.

Truth be told, he had no idea what he was doing here so late or what he was going to say if you answered the door; all he knew was that if he didn’t tell you how he felt now, then any and all courage he felt would be gone. He could already feel it slipping.

He shook his arms out in some lame attempt to get rid of the nerves that coursed through his veins. He had been nervous and overthinking this all day, but it didn’t compare to how he currently felt now that he stood outside your house. Muttering a few words of encouragement to himself, he finally rang the doorbell and turned his back to the door to try and gather his jumbled thoughts before it inevitably opened.

The door opened with a low creak followed by a velvet-like voice that had taken over his every thought, “Eddie?” Spinning back around, a nervous smile tugged on his lips, and—fuck.

You looked beautiful, which wasn’t anything new. You always looked beautiful without even trying. He stood there in awe, his lips parted as his eyes danced over the woman in front of him. You looked like you had just finished getting ready for bed. You wore a Black Sabbath that he recognized as the one he gave you at school when you claimed to be cold while sitting in the cafeteria, paired with black sweats and her face bare of the makeup you had on earlier in the day. “Did we have plans or something?”

Snapping out of his trance, Eddie shook his head, his eyes never straying away from you. You smiled at him and moved out of the way, opening the door wider to give him room so he could enter. “Are you okay? Did something happen?”

“No, everything is good. I just…” He trails off, his back facing her as he surveys the living room for any signs that your parents are there. “Are your parents here, or did they leave already?”

You shook your head as you shut the door, making sure to lock it. “They left a bit ago. Got the house all to myself for the next few days.” You followed him to the living room and moved around picking up the disregarded trash that was piled on the coffee table. “I meant to call when they left and see if you wanted a movie night, but I fell asleep. Why are you asking?”

“Well, I didn’t really want anyone to witness possible failure on my part because I…I have something to tell you,” A warm smile tugs on his lips as he watches you dump the trash in your arms into the nearby trash can. “So…can we sit and talk?”

“Yeah, just let me finish throwing this shit away. Robin and Steve came over after school before my parents left, and I couldn’t be bothered to clean after they left.” You rambled while carefully placing some dishes in the sink, the alcohol into the fridge, and threw away a few more pieces of trash that you found lying around. Eddie paced the living room, rubbing his hands over his jean-clad legs to wipe away from the sweat that gathered on his palms. “Do you want something to drink?”

He shakes his head and darts his tongue out to wet his dry, chapped lips. He could feel his nerves taking over the longer he waited to get this over with. He could feel the courage he took weeks to gather slipping away with every second that ticked by. “Princess, please just… just come here.” Eddie pleaded, his eyes on his best friend, hoping you could see the desperation in his eyes. Fortunately for him, you knew him and could hear the desperation in his tone. You moved towards where he was and took a seat on the couch, folding your legs under your butt and adjusting the hoodie you wore. Eddie followed you in sitting on the couch, his elbows resting on his knees, and he ran a hand over his face.

He hadn’t thought this through all the way, and he didn’t know how to approach it. You were able to sense his nerves, so you reached forward and grabbed one of his hands. “Eddie, what’s going on? Whatever it is, you know you can tell me.”

“Shit, uh… I hope that what I’m about to tell you doesn’t ruin anything because I value our friendship more than anything. And I know I’m not the easiest person to be friends with, but–”

“Eds, spit it out.” You cut off his ramblings, your eyes locked on his, and he could feel his heart speed up in his chest; that same pounding feeling from earlier. He was certain that one day he would go into cardiac arrest around her.

Now or never, Munson. He thought. He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out, his throat feeling dry and scratchy. He felt sweat form in the palm of his hands and felt his cheeks heat up. You looked at him with concern carved into your features, your eyes scanning his face, looking for something, but he didn’t know what.

“Are you high or something?” You blurt, pulling your hand out from his.

“No! I’m clean. I just… I’m nervous.” He spoke, his brows knitted together. “Why would you automatically assume I’m high?”

You shake your head, letting out a breath of relief. “I’m sorry, it’s just that you’re all jumpy and won’t get to the point, and I haven’t seen you like this since the day before that… that night.” His heart clenched at the mention of the night he reached rock bottom a year and a half ago. It had been a hard week leading up to it all around, and he finally reached his breaking point where he felt so alone and unwanted that he took everything he could to not feel that way anymore. Eddie could hardly think of that night without being bombarded with the image of his best friend's face when she stumbled into the trailer and found him barely breathing on the couch.

He was awake but unaware of most of his surroundings. He could speak, but it came out slurred and incoherent. His complexion was turning bluish-purple, his lips already blue, and a thin layer of cold sweat coated his body. His pulse was barely there, and his breathing had turned shallow but erratic.

He barely remembered anything once all the drugs kicked in, but he remembered waking up in the hospital a few days later with flashes of that night swirling through his head, but there were only a few things that stood out the most. The sound of your voice cracking while begging for him to stay as sobs racked your body was one of them. The broken and distraught look on your face was another. That one haunted him weeks afterward. It still did sometimes. The doctors told him that wouldn't have made it if you would've arrived just a few minutes later.

After that night, he never wanted to see that look on your face or his Uncle Wayne’s face or hear the way your voices broke ever again. He didn't want to feel himself slipping away slowly and not being able to move or call for help again so he made it his mission to stay away from that shit. You were there for him through every single step he took. You never left his side even when he had his mood swings, and he couldn't have asked for anyone else.

“I know, and I promise you, I'm okay. I just have something important to tell you, and I'm scared that it'll ruin everything.”

“It won't. I promise, so just tell me.” Placing your hand in his once more, you intertwined your fingers, smiling at the warmth that shot through your body. Eddie smiled at the same feeling, not realizing you did the same.

His eyes flickered down to your lips for a moment, the urge to just press his against yours, to know how they felt and tasted, grew stronger with each fleeting second. You, however, didn't notice the not-so-subtle action as you were too focused on the warmth your body felt whenever you made skin-to-skin contact with the man. It was like a warm blanket was being draped over your shoulders after being in the cold longer than you should be. It was like curling up next to the fire with the warm blanket and the comforting smell of cookies floating around the room.

Looking up, you force your eyes away from your locked hands and stare at him, your eyes finding his light brown eyes already staring at you. At that moment, he felt a surge of confidence wash over him, all his nerves disappearing, and he lifted his free hand to cup your jaw, the pad of his thumb tracing over her cheekbone.

He watched your face contort from concern to curiosity the longer he stared. With a nervous smile, Eddie leaned in closer, pressing his forehead on yours, your noses touching and mouths hovering over one another. You were so close that all it would take was one wrong move from either of you, and your lips would touch. His eyes darted back down to your lips, taking note of how yours did the same, the once nervous smile now a smirk.

He looked back up to your eyes, searching for anything that told him that you didn't want this to happen; he didn't find any. “Eddie,” You whispered seconds before he surged forward and pressed his lips to yours in a searing kiss, full of pent-up tension you had been suppressing for years, your eyes immediately fluttering shut. You moaned quietly at the feeling of his lips on yours, your free hand immediately gripping his long hair, tugging at the root while the other disconnected from his hand to wrap around his neck.

He hummed against your mouth, the groan building in the back of his throat making itself known. Your mouth opened with a gasp when he placed his free hand underneath the hoodie you wore, on your waist to pull you closer; the warmth of his touch sent a shock up your spine.

Despite the awkward position you were in, your lips moved against his in perfect sync until the need for air became too much, and, with a lot of hesitation, Eddie slowly pulled away. His eyes opened slowly to look at you while he dragged air back into his lungs. Your eyes fluttered open shortly after his, your chest heaving as you fought for air.

“So beautiful,” He murmured, wearing a dopey grin on his face.

A smile pulls at your lips, and you tighten your grip around his neck, pulling him down to connect your lips once again, now craving the feeling and taste of them more. Eddie responded quickly, removing his hands from where they were on your body to grip underneath your thighs to pull you into his lap, swallowing the noise of surprise you made when he did. He smiled against your lips, his heart still beating rapidly against his ribs.

Your hands tangled themselves into his hair, tugging at the roots and eliciting a groan from the metalhead. He leaned back on the couch, his hands going to your waist to hold you still when he felt you move. You were the first one to pull away this time, your eyes remaining shut while gasping for air for a minute before diving back into his lips. “Hmm,” He hummed against your lips.

You giggled at the vibrations it sent through and down your body. You pull away, keeping your hands tangled in his hair. “Does this mean what I think it does, or do you go around kissing all your friends like that?”

“Only the real pretty ones.” He jokes, and you remove a hand from his hair to smack him in the chest, throwing your head back in a laugh. Eddie took the opportunity to duck forward and attach his mouth to your neck, your laugh quickly turning into a gasp.

“Upstairs.” You said through gasps while he worked on your neck, nipping and sucking gently. You were sure he left marks behind.

He reluctantly pulled away, and you took the chance to disconnect from him, pulling him up off the couch. “Lead the way, princess.” He smirked.

As soon as your bedroom door closes behind you, his lips are on yours again as he presses you against the door. “Are you sure about this?” He asks breathlessly, his lips already back on your neck.

“Yeah, fuck, please.” 

“Just making sure.” He leans in again, covering your lips with his. You wrap your arms around his neck, pressing yourself against him. He was warm, despite the cold air that filled the room from your cracked window, and you felt like you were dreaming. 

He moves his hand under your—his hoodie, running his hand over your skin, and you can't stop the shivers going up your spine. You're tingling everywhere, all your senses zeroing in on him. His scent, the way his body felt against yours, the way his lips felt. Everything. 

You throw your head back, giving him more access to your neck, and it doesn't take long for Eddie to suck and nibble on your skin. “You're so beautiful, princess.” Eddie leans his forehead against yours, his chest heaving with heavy breaths. 

“Eddie…” Your eyes dart back and forth between his own, your heart pounding against your chest. “Kiss me.” He obliges and plants a quick kiss on your lips, and then he picks you up with one swift movement, making you squeal.

Your back hits the mattress as he lays you down, a giggle tumbling past your lips. The chain he wore swung in your face, and you reached up, hooking a finger through the chain to pull him closer. You meet in another kiss, all tongues and teeth, while you busy your hands with his undoing his belt. Eddie uses one of his hands to support his weight on the bed. “What do you want?” Eddie lays his forehead on yours, his cheeks flushed. 

Instead of answering with words, you wrap your hand around his and run it down your body until the heat of his hand is seeping through your sweats, and you feel the gentle pressure on your center. You feel yourself get even more turned on. Eddie rubs his hand over your sweats ever so slightly, but it’s enough to make your heart pound faster against your ribs.

“I see. You want my hands?” 

“Please,” You nod quickly, bucking your hips into his hand.

Eddie huffs out a laugh with a slight shake of his head. “I have no choice but to oblige.” He quickly gets to work with undoing the strings on your sweats and hooking his fingers into the waistband, and pulls them down, exposing your underwear that you were sure was soaked through at this point. And you couldn’t bring yourself to feel embarrassed about it. He takes off the fuzzy socks that you wore to keep your feet warm before pulling the sweats off your legs completely, kissing his way back up until he’s resting between your legs. His hands are on your hips, yours in his hair as he gets closer to where you need him the most. “You’re so wet for me, princess.” You could hear the smirk in his, but you don’t get the chance to think more over it, let alone say anything in return, because in the next second, Eddie is running his tongue over your covered core. 

You let out a curse when the tip of his tongue finds your clit. “Right there.” Your grip on his hair tightens, and you feel his fingers press into the skin of your thighs. 

“Hmm, I think I’ll have to get closer.” 

“Fuck, please.” You wouldn’t be surprised if you turned into a puddle at his touch. With nimble fingers, Eddie pushes your panties to the side, his breath now hitting your wet folds directly, causing you to let out a high-pitched whine.

“So fucking beautiful. Definitely worth the wait.” And then he spreads you with his thumbs and dives in, circling your clit with his tongue, lapping and sucking on it. You can feel sweat begin to form, your whole body growing hot under his ministrations.

“Fuck, I love the sounds you’re making, princess.” He replaces his tongue with a thumb, and the sudden change in pressure makes you moan loudly, your thighs clenching. “I'll take my time with you next time, but, right now, I gotta have you.” 

You definitely were not complaining. As much as you enjoyed the foreplay, you needed him inside you, reaching the places you couldn’t. Eddie sits back on his legs and pulls off his jacket and shirt. Just as he leans back down to cover your lips with his, he stops, his brows knitting together. “Condom?” 

“Fuck, uh…my bathroom. Top drawer.” You tell him. 

He smiles and lifts himself off the bed. “One second.” He disappears into your bathroom, and you reposition yourself so you’re on your knees, waiting patiently for him to return. You hear him rummaging around through the door for a moment before he reappears, a foil packet in his hand, stopping in his tracks at the mere sight of you sitting nice and pretty for him. His eyes visibly darken. “Fucking hell, sweetheart,” He groans. 

You don’t take your eyes off of him as he walks over with a triumphant grin on his face. Your eyes flicker down, catching the outline of his hard cock visible through his pants, a low whimper passing your lips.

“God, you’re so hot.” He pulls his bottom lips prisoner in between his teeth as positions himself behind you, placing a kiss on your shoulder blade. His lips sent a shiver through you. 

You look over your shoulder, watching as his stomach flexes as he unbuttons his jeans. “You aren’t too bad yourself.” Your mouth waters when he pulls out his cock. His eyes never leave yours as he rips open the condom wrapper with his teeth. 

You watch him roll the condom on, and then he’s got a hand on your hip while the other wraps around the base of his cock. “Are you ready?” 

You could only nod as he ran the tip of his cock through your folds a couple of times, nudging your clit, and causing you to tighten your grip on your blanket. “Please, Eds…” You whimper, your eyes squeezed shut, and then he’s slowly pushing into you, filling you up. 

Both of you are breathing heavily as he pulls out a bit before sliding in deeper, repeating that until he’s sheathed all the way inside you. A loud groan tumbled past his lips. 

“You're so tight, sweetheart; feels so good.” He pulls you up by the hips, so your back is against his chest, and he moves one of his hands to your cunt, his middle finger playing with your clit, making you clench around him. “So fucking good. Better than I could imagine.” His words make you smile. You place one of your hands on top of the hand he has on your hip, and he withdraws himself before thrusting deeper into you. His hips build up a rhythm that drives you insane. You push your hips back, meeting his thrusts as you widen your legs, wanting him even deeper. 

Eddie picks up the pace, the sound of his skin slapping against yours and both of your moas filling the room. “Fuck, the things I wanna do to you.” Eddie grunts; his deep, gravelly voice sends a shock through you. 

“Why don’t you do them then?” You look back at him, a challengingly glint in your eyes. 

Eddie lets out a strained laugh. “Oh, I will. Next time, you won’t be able to walk for days. I’ll have you in all the ways I could only imagine late at night with just my hand.” 

“Tell me about them.” Your words are followed by a moan as he hits a particularly sensitive spot within you.

“I wanna make you cum so many times you can’t remember anything, not even your own name. Wanna have you so cock drunk, you can’t form proper sentences. Gonna have you bent over in front of a mirror and make you watch yourself fall apart on my cock.” You never thought you’d hear Eddie speak like this, and you can’t deny the way it makes you feel. Hearing him say these things while he fucks into you drives you insane. “Wanna see you on top, riding me with your tits bouncing with every movement, fuck.” He grunts, his thrusts speeding up. He moves in and out of you without problems. Each fantasy he’s told you makes you wetter than before, making it easier for him to slide in and out of you.    

The coil in your stomach is wound tight, and it looks like Eddie isn’t gonna last much longer either. “I’m gonna cum, Eds. I’m so close.” You collapsed onto your elbows, your upper body no longer able to stay up.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart.” He wraps his arm around your torso, moving you back up against his chest, and you’re able to hold onto him better. Being back in this position allows him to find the spot that makes you throw your head back with a moan.

“Right there.” Eddie’s whole body is tense, his skin covered with a sheen of sweat as he pounds into you. And then his thumb finds your clit, and you’re done for, an intense orgasm washing over you. Your walls clench around him, and that’s all it took for him to fall over the edge. He grunts into your ear as he thrusts into you a few more times, his cock twitching as he unloads into the condom.

Both your chests are heaving as you slowly recover. You’re now lying flat on your back, your head on your pillow, and you run your hands through your hair, brushing the strands stuck to your face with sweat away, looking up at the ceiling as you try to comprehend what just happened.

You just had sex with your best friend. And now everything might be ruined. God, you felt so stupid. You just ruined everything, and for what? Something that probably meant nothing? 

All these thoughts run through your head whilst Eddie lazily caresses your thighs, letting out a deep breath before he finally removes his hands from you and stands from the bed. You hear him walk into the bathroom, and you take the opportunity to sit up, the fabric of the hoodie you still wore stuck to your skin. Eddie walks back into the room, wet washcloth in his hand, his face still flushed a pretty pink, and you realize he has put his boxers back on. He opens his mouth to say something, but you beat him to it, your voice hoarse, “it’s late…you should go.” 

He stares at you in surprise for a moment before his face falls, and he slowly nods. You lay back down, not having the will to watch as he puts his clothes back on and leaves. You wait until you can hear the roar of his engine before you let the tears fall.

part two

notes: since tumblr apparently has a limit of how many people i can tag, if i noticed i had you in multiple taglists for stranger things, i removed the duplicate so i can tag more people!

PERMANENT TAGLIST ( if it's crossed out that means i couldn't tag you )

@prettylittlemoonlight @drayshadow @evanbuckbuckleyhowlett @wildestdreamcatcher @mushroomdemon9 @levylovegood @1-800-prostitutes @AllieAprilKnox @alexxavicry @hallecarey1 @moshpot24x @AlohaStitch_626 @lucyispan @linkpk88 @juneb3rry @loveshineslikethesky @liyinzen

STRANGER THINGS TAGLIST

@hehehehannahthings @polarisfae @Pinksloosh @mushroomdemon9 @bvmbshell @lilahloopsy @yeosangs-left-ass-cheek @angelbbygrl @wandamaximoffs-deadchild @marauderssworld @watchingteav @moshpot24x @scorpfairy @cherrypieyourface @soph69420world @itsquinoa @linkpk88 @milkiane @daffodil0darling @pastel-abyss-x @maruushkka @kiwi5335

EDDIE MUNSON TAGLIST

@polarisfae @spookyconsultingcriminal @findleynovadachs111 @1-800-prostitutes @marvel-starwars-nerd @marauderssworld @lovelyladymayyy @mcueveryday @watchingteav @ts1mikas @moshpot24x @scorpfairy @WolfOstar @pettyassbitch @pumpararapam @karagrace @susbuttercup @cherrypieyourface @cupidlvrrr @eddiemunsonhellfire @soph69420world @itsquinoa @lucyispan @centralperksfunds @daffodil0darling @pastel-abyss-x @zervopoulouu @3belladonna

#eddie munson #stranger things #joseph quinn #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fic #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson imagine #stranger things 4 #stranger things imagine #stranger things fic #stranger things blurb #steve harrington #robin buckley

[miraitrunks]

okay, so… here it is: a larger post of most of the treasure planet merch i’ve received but haven’t shared here. this stuff gets more and more niche/rare the further you scroll, so check it all out! let’s start from the top:

first up— we’ve got my complete collection of all the loungefly products. each one has jim on it so it was a must <3 personally the first release (middle) is my favorite but i think the pink backpack is prettier

second up— my 20th anniversary pin as well as my cursed concepts pin. such lovely grabs <3 then we have the pin i bought off the artist Dean Grayson from his “Heroic Rides” series on etsy. it’s fricken huge!

third— probably one of my favorites, my hallmark treasure planet cups. i got these off ebay and i have absolutely no idea what year they’re from. aren’t they so cool?! i got so many and they’re brand new. the print of jim on the cup is just top tier. “honey, we’ve got guests. bring out the fine china!” 10/10.

number four— my jim & silver keychain toys. these are olddd! if you know me though, you know i don’t keep stuff in the packages. silver could stay, but jim definitely had to come out. he zooms forward like a toy car when you pull him back and then let him go!

item number five— treasure planet for the playstation 2. i’m especially fond of this one considering the ps2 was my first ever gaming console that i owned myself. so many fun memories!

number six— my japanese art promo book featuring some of the japanese voice casting! as an anime fan, collecting japanese promotional material for american media is something that i’ve always wanted to do. i haven’t gotten my hands on a japanese movie poster yet, but it’s on my list for sure. this is a pretty close runner up though! i love all the pngs used for this booklet! (sorry for my weird hand placement in some of these, as the pages folded out and it was hard to photograph with one hand)

number seven— last one for now! i think i saved the best for last personally, but this is my disney adventures collector’s edition magazine for treasure planet back from 2002, the movie’s release year. let me tell you, this thing is such a throwback from the events of the year to the ads that come in the thing.

…AND THERE’S A WHOLE CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE COMIC IN HERE?! i had no idea! it was like striking gold! this is also one of my favorites of all the things i own. can we get a load of how cute he looks on the cover? he almost looks like he’s aware he’s posing for a magazine cover. so adorable!

…wow, that’s all from me for now! while it’s definitely not all i own, this is just some of the newer stuff i’ve gotten since i’ve been away and/or some of the stuff i think is cooler. did you recognize any of this stuff? find anything new? lemme know!

#( phew long post ! sorry everyone ! ) #( sharing my plunders with the world ) #piggy podium #merch #treasure planet #disney #jim hawkins #john silver #treasure island

[r0semultiverse]

Mr. 6 made you do a good show to be released?? 👀 um....

This is already giving serious eye vibes.

A whole show dedicated to public humiliation?

The Mr. Bonzo suit started moving??? 👀 Serious stranger vibes. 🤡

"It actually became a sort of ritual"

I've seen people being like "don't cross tag" but buddy... the writing cross tags itself here I mean c'mon! 😂 Something something ritual of the stranger- okay, I'll keep listening!

Hey, what's with the music?? Hey, who is Terrance Menki???👀

"The police said there were eleven bodies in total and his wardrobe was full of all sorts of homemade costumes." BRO IS ACTUALLY MAGNUSPOD WILLIAM AFTON-

"It certainly had a profound effect on the Mr. Bonzo brand." Oh I'm sure it did, holy fucking shit. 👀

Oh, me using this image is rather ironic now.

"In a lot of ways I’m more his prisoner now than I ever was on my show." WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY THAT? 👀

"The witness statements from three murders over the last five years that claim a person in a Mr. Bonzo costume was at the scene? Do you think there could be a copycat?" Has the fear of clowns manifested as an actual clown-guything?

"Don’t contact us again." "Us?" "Why am I still trapped dealing with all this this- Why won’t he let me go?! Why-" So Mr. Bonzo is absolutely a clown cryptid of sorts with some sort of hold over Nigel.

Oh no, Gwen's about to fuck around & find out, isn't she? 👀

Hey, is Colin still himself & is he supposed to be back?

Hmm, okay, I guess that's him (hopefully).

"Maybe don’t tell them I’ve been on their terminals. They’ll only get the wrong idea." "If Lena asks, I wasn’t here." Seems like everyone's got their own little secret investigations going on, fun! This can only go well! 🙃

One of the episodes absolutely no one shows up to work except Lena is there & is like "where the fuck did everyone go?"

"Time to get some new hires again I guess."

Let's go!! Ruin exploration gang!!

"Like, it’s Saturday night and I’m choosing to hang out in a hole with you. A wet hole. And not the good kind either."

Alice with the absolute best quotes. lmao

That sounds like something with giant wings like a bat or some sort of cloth flapping in the wind. Let's hope it's the latter!

Oh a rusty old filing cabinet! Wait tetanus- 😭

"That carved floor in the big atrium – I don’t know what’s going on with that." Ah so we're just gonna breeze past that then. 😶

These are probably the remnants of old avatar creation test areas like mentioned in the Gerry & Gertrude episode. I'm just assuming here.

A key? Big find! Let's go!

AS I WAS SAYING-

Gwen, it was nice knowing you. 🫡

"Now get out of his house."

Archivist! 👁👄👁

"symbols of ancient otherworldly power"

Wait could this be a timeline where this universe's Jane Prentiss actually did manage to invade the building & succeed? I'm thinking out loud.

21:10 that sounds like critters, insects specifically 👀

"I have memories of weird stuff I saw here, but no context. I want to know what was happening, why they chose us… why they didn’t choose me. Maybe find the bit where everything started to go wrong." I am so captivated & intrigued please recount said memories to us- I mean Alice so we can learn more. Please. 👀

EXCUSE ME, WHO THE FUCK WAS THAT?!? WHO IS "[ERROR]?"

WHY DO THEY SOUND DISTORTED AS FUCK?? ARE THEY FROM THE PRIME TIMELINE OR IS THIS A NEW THING?

ARE WE GAZING OUR EYES UPON A WRETCHED THING FROM THE MAGNUS ARCHIVES?!

edit:

Is Lucia Wright an avatar of The Flesh now (in this universe or from the original timeline somehow)? Because it sure fucking sounds like it! 👀 Well, at least that key was put to good use! 😂

Also, supposedly Mr. Bonzo is a reference to Mr. Blobby.

Gwen, I'd be quaking in my boots too. That thing is terrifying!

Late observation but this universe & story seems to focus a lot on the cryptids & I like the direction it's going in! Loving this plot of cryptid hunters, childhood avatar experiments, a strange institute where our main character has past trauma, & just all of it is so good! 💜

Amazing episode, 10/10, I was at the edge of my seat the entire time! 💜 That Bonzo scene & the sound design were absolutely horrifying, thank you! The ending too! 🔥

#nigel dickerson if you need help from mr. bonzo or mr. six please blink twice omg #what if bonzo & six are actually the same creature or entity of sorts? #someone keep an eye on Colin; I'm worried about him #that carved floor in the big atrium is gonna come back into importance I just know it #so Lena uses mr. bonzo as a hitman crytpid of sorts... & now Gwen is exposed to the occult #this episode is a lot... holy crap #these episode do not miss; oh my gods; hit after hit; every time! #worm tracks made me think of jane prentiss; I just made the connection #did lucia wright become an avatar of the flesh & invade this world or is she a left over experiment of the magnus institute #I can only hope Gwen Bouchard will tell the others about wtf she saw (likely against Lena's wishes) #tmagp liveblog #mine #op #tmagp 10 #tmagp #tmagp spoilers #tma spoilers #tma #the magnus protocol #the magnus archives

[lovelyjasmari]

Twisted Wonderland Reaction Part 17 ~ Special Edition

Hello everyone! 

So…it’s been a while since I’ve made one of these. Almost 2 years to be exact. But after book 5 forever changed how I engage with twst (for better and worse), I haven’t really been up to doing reaction posts anymore. Also after book 5 I actually began focusing more on the jp server since there were many things in the official translation that I found…lacking to say the least. 

But when twst jp released this mv on April fools day, I just knew I HAD to talk about it! I’m actually surprised more people aren’t. Probably the biggest thing about this mv is that in a lot of ways the narrative of book 5’s ending has changed now we have context to how NRC Tribe performed. I’ve seen a lot of posts on the bird app saying things like it makes sense now why they lost the VDC. 

I will say, this is definitely NOT a perfect performance. But as a former dancer with WAY too much time on their hands, I decided to analyze this. So for context, I did a mix of ballet and jazz for eleven years and in 2017 I decided to return to dance and have been dancing consistently ever since. To judge this fairly, I watched the MV several times, four times per member, (do the math and feel free to judge me). And with that, here are the things that stuck out to me the most. 

He is beauty, he is grace, HOW HE HELL DID HE NOT KICK EPEL IN THE FACE?!

Synchronization/symmetry 

The lack of synchronization was the first thing I noticed, ESPECIALLY in the first 30 seconds. The footwork is sloppy and Deuce and Ace in particular aren't as sharp with their moves as the other five. Rook seems to be the only one doing the choreography correctly because one point at 0:25 (and again at 3:31) where he bends his knee higher than the others and thanks to those fuckass uggs standing out so much, I couldn’t unsee it. At 1:03, 1:07, 2:07, and 3:00 Ace’s form is noticeably off as well.

And this may just be a personal hangup of mine but I found lack of symmetry between the boys at 1:14 very odd. Like, I don’t know how I can describe it but the way Epel tried to take center stage during his and Vil’s duet gave me the impression that wasn’t originally in the routine. At 1:13 there’s a split second where you can actually see Vil looking down at Epel like “...wut?” I immediately thought about that moment right before they go on stage where Epel offers to take on Vil’s solo’s because he looks so weak but Vil refuses. I wonder if Epel trying to take center like that is a callback to that exchange. Unfortunately, since the boys were perfectly symmetrical for the rest of the song, it stands out as awkward all the more. 

Kalim and Jamil

Lowkey, Kalim and Jamil both carried this performance after Vil. The little magic with the mic was a super nice touch and Kalim shines the most during the dance break. He seems to be having fun with it despite being in agony. What’s interesting is that after Ace and Deuce, Kalim is the most out of sync but he pulls it off well since I can tell he’s been on the stage before. Both he and Jamil are natural performers. 

Vil’s movements

So, this has been something of a headcanon of mine but it seems to have been proven correct with this mv. Vil has always struck me as someone who probably has a lot of classical dance training but little training in other styles like hip-hop or jazz. His movements are very graceful and elegant but almost…too elegant? I don’t know if that makes sense but they seem very smooth for this style of choreography.

AND THAT FUCKING GRAND JETE!!! Absolutely flawless but it feels SO out of place here! I will give him credit though, that is one of the most difficult jumps to pull off in ballet, and the fact he did that in fucking 5-inch heels right after the most mentally and physically traumatic episode of his life, it’s beyond impressive. And the fact he landed perfectly and so seamlessly moved into his final solo is even more remarkable. Still, that was the most jarring element of this choreography and I think it would still be out of place even if this was a “perfect” performance. 

Now here’s where I potentially piss people off

All in all this is a perfectly imperfect performance. Being completely objective and not taking my love for these characters into account, I honestly still don’t see how they lost. Well, I understand why but it still is fucked to me. I can understand Vil feeling like NRC Tribe didn’t perform their best since they were exhausted and hurting from dealing with his overblot. I can also understand that they were probably a lot more polished in rehearsal. But here’s the thing,  for a group of amateurs, I would probably expect this quality of performance even if they hadn’t had to deal with Vil’s overblot.

First off, the choreography is rather complex for beginners and requires a lot of synconization to look correct. But perfecting syncronization alone can take months and in larger groups sometimes even longer. To give an example, last year at my dance school, the kpop class did a TWICE cover that took us the better part of eight months to learn and we had to learn the chours in groups of three. And even then we still fucked up alot because again, none of us are professionals. If NRC Tribe can look like this after only ONE MONTH of training, that’s extremely impressive. Vil, can you train me please?? XD

As for having to perform right after beating OB Vil’s ass, again I was expecting to see A LOT more noticeable errors. And knowing what they all just went through honestly makes me admire this all the more. The thing is, it’s easy to be beautiful when everything is right and perfect in your world. But being able to smile even when you’re struggling and your heart is breaking is even more beautiful still. Personally, I don’t think I could perform even half as well if it were me. 

It’s unfortunate that we don’t have a MV of Neige’s performance so I could do a fully fair analysis. But if we look at all the evidence, it seems to me that NRC Tribe still gave a better performance. And I think the true tragedy here isn’t even that NRC Tribe lost since I think that was always a given considering the dynamic NRC and RSA has.

The true tragedy, I think, is that Vil could be convinced that this perfectly imperfect performance was still inferior to Neige’s. But I’ll leave that for another time. 

#twisted wonderland #jas reads twst #twst book 5 #twst book 5 spoilers #nrc tribe #vil schoenheit #epel felmier #jamil viper #kalim al asim #ace trappola #deuce spade #rook hunt #shut up jas

[dixonzzgirl]

as everyone started to pile into their houses for the night, it was the perfect time for you and daryl to sneak out. however, before you shut the door behind you, you grabbed a blanket to cover over with. daryl sat down on the porch swing and it creaked as he sat back. you sat right up next to him, leaving him no personal space. daryl didn’t mind though. he wanted to be this close to you all the time. 

daryl pulled out one of the joints from the tin and lit it up. he took a long, deliberate drag from the joint and held the smoke in his lungs, passing it over to you. you did the same as he did, letting the pungent smell fill your senses. you released the smoke in a controlled exhale and passed it back to daryl with a smile. “do you ever think about how things used to be? before all of this?” you broke the silence. your inquiry wasn’t one stemming from sadness or hate, just pure curiosity. daryl took another long drag. “like where you’d be or who you’d have around?” he thought about his answer as the smoke burned his throat. he exhaled. “yeah.” he grunted. you looked out into the darkness that loomed over alexandria. “who do you think about?” you turned to face him with a soft expression. “my old man...merle.” he spoke barely above a whisper. “wonder what they’d say if they saw me now.” he reached out his hand, extending the joint out for you. you took it and paused before taking another hit. “people change, daryl. they grow too.” you speak with care and love. he finds your eyes and stares into them for a moment before nodding. “what ‘bout you? you think bout yer family?” usually, thinking about your family too much would get you worked up, but being here with daryl, it felt as easy as breathing. “i used to.” you admit. “i used to think about them constantly… but not much anymore.” i look back at him. “why’s that?” he averts his tired eyes. “because none of it matters. nothing in my life did back then.” you couldn’t even edit the sentences in your mind before saying them, they just came pouring out. “this is the only thing that matters to me now… you and me.” you lean back onto the swing and tilt your head to look at daryl’s expression. he had perked up a little at your confession. you slipped your hand underneath his right arm and held it close to your body. “you and me.” he echoed, softly against your hair. 

after finishing the joint, you both felt warm and tingly inside. like the weight of the world wasn’t crushing down on you as hard as it usually was. in that quiet moment, surrounded by the shadows and the serenity of the night, you found solace in each other's company. the past was a distant memory, and the future was uncertain, but right here, right now, you had each other. and that, you knew, was enough.

a/n: this is a part two to my last fic

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon drabbles #daryl dixon fluff #daryl imagines #the walking dead #twd fanfiction #the walking dead daryl #twd #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon headcanon #daryl dixon blurb #daryl dixon twd #twd darl #twd daryl dixon #dixonzzgirl